The Red Evening

Chapter Eighteen

The days in Princeton went excruciating slow or pleasantly fast depending on Art's presence. He had to juggle working at the lounge and taking care of his mom who contracted the flu. He would try to make time to see me before he went to work, but sometimes our plans didn't pan out.

I hated being dependent on him. Our relationship grew more everyday but it didn't feel right. I felt like it wasn't okay for me to become close to another man. I didn't have any romantic feeling towards Art. I felt safe with him and it seemed like everything else didn't matter when I was with him. He had a good way of distracting people.

I walked into the buzzing restaurant and made my way to the bar. Art was putting on a show with his mixology skills for a couple of older woman. They watched him with predatory eyes and licked their lips in hunger. He didn't seem uncomfortable, more so unbothered by the lust.

He turned around to get liquor of the shelf and spotted me. "Hey," he mouthed and smiled.

I waved at him and he turned around to pour the ladies their drink. Each of the ladies tipped him fifty dollars. In total, he received about $150 for about five minutes or less of entertainment. The math of it reminded me of my days at the Red Lounge. I brushed my hair back with my fingers as I felt a strong head pain slowly creep through. All the chattering and loud playing of the instruments dimmed as my thoughts became darker.

"Hey, are you okay?" Art asked, rubbing my arm.

The pain vanished and I looked at him with relief. "Yeah, it just felt like I got hit on the side of the head."

He knitted his eyebrows and placed his hand on the back of my head. "I had a lot of those a few years back. I got into a pretty bad fight and the asshole pushed my head back against a cinder block. I broke it in half."

"Oh my God, that's intense... are you okay?"

He waved at himself. "I'm here," he chuckled.

I rolled my eyes and shoved him. "I know that, but is your head okay? Any permanent damage?"

He smirked. "Yes, I'm okay. Are you okay?" He ran his fingers through my curls and softly massaged the back of my head.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, looking into his light brown eyes.

"You should work here," he whispered.

"What?" I asked.

"I think you should work here. It'll give you something to do and the pay is fantastic. The hours are from 6 PM to 2 AM." He chuckled as he watched my eyebrows shot up. "Too late for you, doe?"

Those were about the same hours I would work at the The Red Lounge. The smiliarites of those two places filled me with wistfulness. It seemed like the first stepping stone into creating the same life as I did in DC. I didn't plan on staying in Princeton too long, but it wouldn't hurt to set up a life here.

"Sure, I can work here. Where is the manager? Can I speak to them?"

Arturo's  eyes widen and he placed his long finger against my lip. "No, no. Don't ever say the word manager. He would go ballistics! We either call him Monsieur or Boss."

I slumped back and looked around. The security placed around the resturant eyed us. "They are watching us."

Art recomposed himself and walked back to the bar. "They're watching me. They are his eyes and ears."

"What do you mean?" I asked, leaning forward.

"You'll never see Monsieur. It's like spotting a wolf, it's very rare. He always inside the building just never in sight. He has his goons keep everyone in check."