by Ava Harrison
5
Drew
My life sometimes feels like an endless cycle.
Every day, I spend it doing the same thing—wake up, work out, go to work. Occasionally, I indulge in other pleasantries, but ever since I’ve decided I wanted to branch off and open something new, do something new, I’ve been too busy.
So now, I eat, sleep, and work.
I’ve been here since around nine this morning. Most would think owning a club like mine is fun, but it’s not.
I work all the goddamn time.
I’m a control freak and do everything myself.
Then there’s the fact that I’m planning on opening a restaurant soon. That brings on a whole other set of problems and responsibilities. If I were smart, I’d hire someone to manage the whole process for me.
Phone calls and meetings have me sequestered in my office until well past dinner, and it’s only going to get worse.
Looking at the clock, I see it’s already after ten.
The club is not at capacity yet, but enough of the high-paying clients are present to have a full staff on the premises.
Give it a few hours and it doesn’t matter what night it is—Silver will be packed.
As much as I’d love to stay cocooned in this office and get ahead on my paperwork, it’s time to head downstairs and check out how the night is going.
I’m particularly interested in how my new employee is faring. Whether it’s to ensure she’s keeping clean or simply to catch sight of her, I haven’t a clue. I don’t even want to examine that one. She’s off-limits for so many reasons.
I’m about to head over to the bar where she’s currently working with Carter when I notice the room that Reese always occupies has the curtain closed.
Fucking Reese.
One of these days that guy is going to have to grow up and stop trying to ruin his life.
Switching directions, I head in the direction of the VIP section instead of the bar.
Some might ask why I indulge him.
A deep-seated sense of guilt has me wanting to protect him. I know you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, but at least, if he’s under my roof, I know he’s relatively safe.
I can’t stop him from doing drugs, but if he’s here, I can try to push away the devil on his shoulder.
Which is what I’m about to do now. I have a strict no-drug rule here, and Reese and his friends are the only ones who push it.
Most of the patrons of my club respect the rules because they know the alternative is being blacklisted. Nobody wants to lose access to the hottest club in town, even if the rules are strict.
Reese has always been a thorn in my side, especially on the club rules. If it’s not drugs, it’s harassing my waitresses.
I should kick him out, but instead, I’ll open the drapes and monitor him.
I’d remove the drapes, but one of the key elements of this club is the ability for the rich and famous to have fun and drink without having to worry about pictures being leaked to TMZ. No matter how exclusive we are, a beautiful reporter posing as just someone trying to gain access, could easily slip by the bouncers. So the curtains stay to protect our customers, even if removing them would be easier than having to babysit this little shit. Sins of the past causing problems in the present.
When I approach and fling back the curtain, I’m not met with Reese.
Instead, leaning over the table with a rolled-up dollar in hand, is a stunning redhead. Reese moved on fast from the one he had with him the night before. Fucking typical.
These girls never learn. They think they’re important to him, but no one is important to Reese.
Not true.
One person was important to him.
But she’s long gone.
Buried in the past.
A past I can’t seem to forget.
A past that haunts me even now.
“Get up,” I bite out, stepping beside her.
She has to crane her neck up to see me. She looks high as a kite. No way am I letting this girl OD at my club. “Where the hell is Reese?”
When she just stares at me like I have five heads, I lean down and get right in her face.
“Did you not hear me?”
“I don’t take orders from you,” she slurs, barely intelligible.
“Seeing as it’s my club, sweetheart, you actually do.”
Bored with this whole interaction and this girl’s inability to understand what the hell is going on, I reach my hand over and swipe the coke from the cocktail table. Sending it down to the ground and immediately cursing myself for creating a mess for someone else to have to clean up.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I hear from behind me. I stand tall and turn to see Reese approach.
He looks at me, eyes glassy but narrowed, and then looks toward the little white specks barely visible on the floor.
“What the fuck, dude? You just spilled over a grand of coke on the floor.”
“Probably shouldn’t have brought it into my club then. You know the damn rules, Reese.”
He steps closer, trying and failing to be menacing.
“What’s your problem?”
“My problem is you. You could be so much more than this.”
“Like you’re one to talk. You aren’t so perfect.”
Before I can stop myself, I’m grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Our faces are inches apart.
“Careful there, Drew. You’re not the only one who could afford a place like this, and karma is a bitch. Someone might take everything you have one day. Especially if they tell someone you roughed them up.”
“You’re threatening me now?” I say through gritted teeth, tightening my grip on his shirt.
“Just saying.” He shrugs.
“It doesn’t need to be like this.” My voice is rougher than normal. It’s taking everything inside me not to beat his ass for being so stupid.
“It does. You made sure of it.”
His words hit their intended mark, right in my heart. After everything, he should know better. He should be better.
I’m about to say more when a movement to my left has my gaze drifting.
There, standing like a ghost in the shadows, watching everything transpire, is Bailey. Her eyes are wide, and her chest heaves with her deep inhales as she looks down at the coke and then back at the girl rubbing at her nose, strung out and clearly high out of her mind.
I let my hands drop, and Reese stumbles back, eyes landing on Bailey. The way he looks at her is unnerving, and she physically shrinks under the weight of it. Fucking Christ. The pull to strike him across the face and pull his attention off her is so intense I have to physically refrain from carrying it out.
“Get out of here, Reese,” I bite through clenched teeth. “And don’t come back if you’re going to bring that shit into my club.”
His head shakes as if clearing the fog that settled over him. Without saying another word, he grabs the girl he’s with, and they both stumble out past the curtain and into the main part of the club. He looks back once more, and I level him with a glare that I hope conveys my thoughts. Get your ass moving. I know he’ll be back. With my luck, probably tomorrow, but I can’t think about that now. I just need him to leave tonight.
“Will you be okay?” I ask Bailey, and she bobs her head in answer. “I’ll be back in a minute. I just have to make sure they leave.”
She doesn’t answer. Just stares at me blankly.
Her eyes are still large. Still hollow.
Then she gives me a little nod. I don’t want to leave her alone. She looks a little shaken by the exchange, but I have to make sure they not only leave but have transportation. Neither of them was in their right mind, and I won’t have that on my conscience.
“I’ll be right back,” I say once more, trying to assure she’s okay before I head out. “Bailey, speak,” I command, needing her to verbalize she’s okay.
“Okay,” she says softly.
“I-I’m fine. Go.”
It’s my turn to nod before I spin on my heels and head out, following Reese. They stop periodically to talk to people they know. They’re currently standing at a table with a reality TV star, deep in conversation. It appears all of them are inebriated enough they don’t notice Reese’s state. While they’re preoccupied, I go to the front, motioning for my bouncer, Rob.
“I need you to get a car here right away. Reese and his guest are not to leave here under any circumstances unless they get into the car you called. Got it? If they’re not out here in five minutes, send someone to escort them out.”
“Yes, sir,” the giant of a man says, picking up a two-way radio and getting started on his task.
“Good man,” I say, clasping him on the shoulder and making my way back to the VIP room. I don’t pay any attention to Reese, knowing Rob will handle him.
I’m almost calm when I get back to the room, but what I find when I pull back the curtain has my fists clenching.
There, on the cold concrete floor of the club, is Bailey, wiping away the remnants of coke. The white residue is striking against the black floors. She shouldn’t have to clean this. But that’s not what has me so enraged. It’s the way her shoulders shake.
Lowering my body until I’m eye level with her, I place my hand over hers, stopping the erratic scrubbing.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I need to clean it,” she says absently, as though she’s lost in thought.
“No, you don’t.” When she doesn’t stop, I reach my hand out and turn that haunting face toward me. “Stop. I got this.”
She looks up into my eyes but doesn’t speak. So many feelings flood through me, and I don’t know which one is most potent. Our gazes lock for what feels like an eternity as her pain bleeds out of her. My own demons reflect in her eyes, making it hard to be near her, but I don’t move. I won’t. Not until she breaks the connection and looks away.
I take that opportunity to stand and extend my arm out to her. When she places her delicate hand in mine, I help pull her to her feet, all the while focusing on how her hand feels so small engulfed in mine. It feels familiar. It transports me back in time to another place, one that feels like a lifetime ago.
“Thank you,” she whispers, drawing me back to the here and now.
I let out the breath I was holding. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” I spit, just a bit too harshly. She recoils slightly, and I feel like an ass.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she says, turning before I can say something else. But what more can I say?
I’m sorry for hiring you? I’m sorry for wanting the property and putting that above what’s best for you? I won’t say any of that because she wouldn’t understand. I hardly do. This woman is a stranger. I gave her the job because she needed it, and I needed to play nice with Cal. That’s all. Keep telling yourself that, asshole.
The similarities between Alexa and Bailey are startling. So many things about each of these women’s lives are parallel, and having her here is only another reminder of all the ways I failed Alexa. I couldn’t help her, but maybe I can Bailey. Perhaps this job is the very thing that gives her purpose and keeps her clean.
Right now, she looks broken.
And it’s my fault.
It’s always my fault.
6
Bailey
After what just happened at work, Carter is my saving grace. His witty banter gets me through the difficulties of trying to forget the event.
“You going to tell me what finally made you decide to sober up?” he asks out of nowhere as he wipes down the bar.
I look in every direction to verify that nobody heard him. “Jeez, Carter. Can you air any more of my secrets? Keep it down,” I hiss.
“Sorry, I’ve just been thinking about it.”
I sigh. Peering once more around the bar, I find that everyone is deep in conversation and currently good on drinks, so I decide to go for it. Maybe he just needs to know that everyone has a rock bottom, and the bottom is ugly. It may just be the ticket to getting Carter on the fast track to sobriety.
“One morning, I found myself walking through a very bad part of town. I was drunk off my ass, stumbling around on way too many pills. I must have looked like easy prey,” I say, swiping at a piece of dust with my rag. “A dirty man, I think he might have been homeless, cornered me in an alley.” I shudder at the memory.
His fingernails were caked in dirt, hair so greasy an egg would’ve fried on his head under direct sunlight. His clothes tattered and stained. “He had a knife and started to close me in. I was so scared.” I pause, summoning up the courage to tell him the worst part. “He pushed me to the ground and held my hands above my head. I spit in his face, and he punched me in the eye. I thought he . . . I thought he was going to rape me,” I admit, goose bumps forming on my arms as I speak the words.
Carter’s eyes go wide. “I—shit, Bailey. I don’t know what to say. What happened after that?” he asks tentatively.
“While I wriggled in pain, screaming from the blow, he grabbed my purse and ran off with all my money.” I gulp. “That morning, I went to my first NA meeting.” Tears well up in my eyes at the memory. “I came so close to being badly hurt that night . . . It was the push I needed to get help, and I’ve been sober ever since.”
Carter takes my hand in his and gently strokes it, lifting me out of the fog of my memory. He pulls me into a brotherly embrace that lets me know that I have a support system here in New York. “I can’t imagine how scared you must have been,” he says in my ear.
“I was, but I’d put myself in that position because of my addiction.”
“Nobody should ever put their hands on another person like that, especially a woman,” Carter sneers. “I would’ve killed him with my bare hands.”
“It was traumatic, but I have to tell you, I’ve been through worse. I lost a friend once. Watched her die. That should’ve been my wake-up call, but it wasn’t. It took my own life being in jeopardy to finally see the writing on the wall. Don’t let that be yours, Carter. You matter. This world needs you.”
“I want to get better. Will you help me one day?” Carter asks shyly.
I nod adamantly. My heart breaks for Carter, my new friend. No matter how difficult it is to remain sober, it’s so much harder to get clean. The battle he has before him is one that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
The next night is here before I know it, and I’m finally starting to get in the groove of things.
As each hour passes, the club continues to get increasingly busier. I’m waiting at the bar for a rum and Coke when I see Carter reach under the cabinet and pull something from his bag. I don’t have to see it to know what it is. I’m disappointed for my friend. He can’t even go a few hours without a bump. I see Carter jump up and frantically start looking around for something or someone.
“What’s got you trippin’, Carter?” I wince at my use of words. Brilliant, Bailey.
“Boss man’s here. We better get to work.” He shuffles to put the contents of his fist back into the bag. I shake my head at his obviousness. Anyone paying attention would know he’s acting suspiciously paranoid.
“Carter,” I say. Leaning over the bar, I try to get closer to him so nobody will hear what I’m about to say.
His eyes meet mine, and I see the trepidation. He knows full well I’m onto him, and he’s right to fear me at this moment. After everything I’ve shared with him, I didn’t expect Carter to quit cold turkey, but I had hoped.
“I’m not judging you, Carter. Never. But as your friend, I’m going to make you try harder. I won’t allow you to self-sabotage. You need this job, and if Drew is here, your risky behavior is going to get you canned.”
His head lowers, and for a split second, I feel bad for scolding him. Then I remember all the times that I enabled people I considered friends and vice versa . . . and where did th
at leave any of us?
Nowhere.
The club is too busy right now to talk more about it, so I head back to the tables with the drinks in hand. It’s crazy how busy it’s been. I haven’t had a moment’s rest.
As much as I want to complain, the tips have been phenomenal. In one night, I’ve managed to make enough to catch up on my rent. Every single doubt I had about working here has vanished with the last two-hundred-dollar tip I received.
I might actually consider going back to school if this continues. The smile on my face doesn’t go unnoticed. Every coworker I pass looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind. A few smile back just as widely, probably excited about the tips too.
“Hey, Bailey. Can you help me with room two?” A waitress named Lauren calls out as she balances a tub full of dirty glasses. She seems frazzled, and that alone makes me want to make up some excuse, but around here, you get what you give, and I don’t want to burn any bridges in the event I ever need help. “I’ve just got to run these to the back and use the restroom. It’ll only be ten minutes.”
“Sure. Just refills or new orders?”
“Refills. Thank you, Bae. You’re the best,” she says, before practically running to the back.
“Welcome,” I say to her back, blowing out a loud breath.
I take two steps and stop. Drew is walking this way, and as dumb as it sounds, I want to retreat. His very presence sets me so on edge I’d rather run away with my tail tucked between my legs than get any closer. After last night, I’m not ready to see him. My reaction was embarrassing, especially since he doesn’t realize why I reacted the way I did.
I was weak, and I showed him my weakness.
I spin on my heels and walk in the opposite direction of the room I’m supposed to be tending to for Lauren. I get to the bar and tap my fingers nervously.
“I thought you were helping Lauren?” Carter says, frowning in confusion. “Did you already send in the order?”
All our orders are done electronically through an app on our cell phone. They’re sent directly to Carter at the bar or back to the kitchen.
