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𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎 ─ 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚛
I am a liar. I lie and say the reason I moved to New York was for a better opportunity. I lie and say my parents died in an accident when they sure as hell didn't. I lie and say I'm okay being alone, but I still feel lonely. I lie and say my favorite place is a library when really it's the edge of a rooftop. I lie and say everything's fine, but the truth is it's not. Nothing's fine.
I have so many secrets no one knows. Like how every night my pillow drowns in salty tears from waterfalls in my eyes. Like how I "forget to eat" when really it's intentional because I'm never skinny enough. I have wanted to die so many times, so many times I have tried.
It's tragic really.
I feel someone's hand on my shoulder, and I immediately whip around to find the culprit. Kate, my close friend who also happened to get me this job, was standing behind me with a grin on her face.
Her face was shadowed by blue and pink colors, and glitter littered her collarbones. She was dressed in the stupid too short outfit we were forced to wear: a tight leather skirt with a slit running up the leg making bending over impossible and a sheer crop top with only a bralette underneath.
"Don't scare me like that!" I say in my English accent and wag a finger at her. She laughs.
"Sorry," she apologizes, but I know she didn't mean it, "Did one of my jewels fall off? I accidentally touched my face." She leans in, and I check to see if one of the plastic stick on jewels that were apart of her makeup look fell off. I shake my head, "Thanks. So, how has your night been? I've already spilled someone's drink and been hit on like three times."
"So far, not total shit," I answer, smiling at a person who took the last free drink off my tray, "These outfits are a bit... uncomfortable though."
"It's the thigh high boots isn't it?" she asks, pulling at the tight material of her skirt. I shrugged one shoulder, glancing past her at the bar, "Your feet will get used to the heels after a while."
"I'm going to get more drinks," I point and she nods, "Thanks again for recommending me, Kate."
"Your welcome, bunny." She sets a hand on my arm, using her silly pet name for me. I smile at her then set a course for the bar. Sifting through the hot bodies, drowning in the loud music, I accidentally bump a stripper, almost knocking her to the floor. Because I stand at 5"10' and she was kind of a small girl, she stumbles a bit. I gasp quickly before apologizing and continuing at a slightly faster pace toward the bar. I frown, feeling her glare daggers at my back.
Iris, the very friendly bartender, snickers at me as he cleans a glass. I roll my eyes, throw the empty tray on the counter for a refill, and collapse onto a barstool.
"Shit, you just pissed off Glamour," he murmured, using her stripper name, and shaking his head in amusement, "I'd write a will already if I were you."
"Don't worry I have one ready just in case," I say jokingly, "Fill me up."
He sets a handful of shot glasses on the tray and begins making a drink that I'm sure someone else had ordered. The loud sounds of the club fill my ears and I look out into the crowd of people melting together, distracted.
"Are you alright?" he asks me, his eyebrows furrowed, concerned.
"Y-Yes, I'm alright, Iris. Just tired." I purse my lips before trying to give a small smile.
"I wish I had a sexy British accent, too."
"Are you even listening to me?"
"Damn it, Maria, you know I have self diagnosed ADHD. Don't be so rude with your words!" he jokes, then takes an over exaggerated deep breath, "Continue."
"Okay... are you going to give me my drinks?"
"No."
"No, because..."
"Because I need a waitress to bring a bottle of whiskey and bourbon to the owner's suite. I was going to ask Jessica, but I think she just went to the bathroom to make out with some guy, so..."
"So, you want me to?" I ask and he nods, "But I don't know them. I'm still new."
"You gotta meet him someday, Maria. You can't keep avoiding it. Just keep your head down, and don't say a word. Set the bottles on the table and leave." he advises. I nod, take the alcohol then make my way up the stairs that lead upstairs to the owner's suite.
Two men in black suits and earpieces stood by the doors. Bodyguards. They say nothing as I knock twice, and I do as Iris said. I keep my head down, and their eyes. In return, they don't meet mine.
