𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋! | harry styles

𝐗𝐗𝐕

IT takes everything ounce of willpower I possess to step foot in Blush. Every cell in my body screams at me to turn and walk away. My muscles ache and my head throbs from the tension that wracks my body.

It feels like walking into a lion's den.

Right into the belly of the beast.

To make matters worse, there's a creeping sense of something looming on the horizon. It tickles the back of mind, ripples down my spine. It seeps into every thought and fogs my vision until I feel like everyone is looking at me.

"They know," it whispers.

Fraud.

Liar.

Whore.

"Just keep your eyes open," Jack had said. "Head down, eyes open. Anything you can give us is valuable. How often is he there? Who else is in the club that night? Any faces you recognize?"

Questions, questions, questions. Jack had mouthfuls of them ready and waiting.

I answered what I could, and promised to find out the answers I couldn't immediately give him. The whole time Harry had been beside me, my hand in both of his, his expression caught somewhere between pride and pain, green eyes burning with an always-undecipherable emotion that bubbled beneath the surface.

"Hey, Mike," I say, smiling up at him.

"Hey, beautiful," he replies, dimples forming. His massive arms flex as he crosses them over his chest, eyes scanning the club over my head. That's the thing about Mike; he's always watching, just never in the right places.

"Looking lovely tonight," he says with a wink.

I run my hands over the red corset I have on, the boning and lace shifting slightly as I adjust it. The bar is quiet, but it's only early. I take advantage of the quiet moment to make small talk. I've never been any good at it though, and soon it feels awkward and forced, and I can tell he knows something's up.

"So," I swallow. I'm so bad at this. "Uh, I was wondering. If I want in on what the girls are selling, how do I do that? Like, what's the cut? And how do I know who to sell to?"

Mike's face falls a little, his arms tightening over his chest. "Aw, Scarlet," he sighs, frowning. "You don't wanna get into that shit."

"I do." Even to my own ear my voice sounds weak. I straighten, pushing my shoulders back. "I do."

He shakes his head, and for a moment I think he's going to tell me to get lost. He stares down at his shoes for a good thirty seconds before answering me.

"You need to talk to Nick," he says, expression impassive. "But the cut is 10% for you, the rest for the house. See Nick or Tania at the start of the shift and they'll set you up."

Mike looks disappointed. Like he expected better.

My gut churns.

"So, what does 10% get me at the end of the night?"

"Depends. I guess you could take an extra hundred, maybe one fifty."