by C. Gockel
Despite not having heard of the band until a few hours ago, Skye hoped she’d be able to catch them singing at least one song during her break. Then she’d still have time to hop into the staffroom and enact her cupcake plan to be more sociable with her co-workers. She even felt good about her promise to the girls to try and flirt with a mysterious stranger. Things were definitely looking up.
She headed out, ready for the ambient beat of the chill-out room, when she realised Helios, the club’s owner, was coming towards her.
‘You!’ he said, jabbing a finger in her direction. ‘You’re that new girl, right?’
Skye nodded, her tongue suddenly cleaving to the roof of her mouth.
‘You’re going to be in the Rock Room tonight. It’s all hands on deck with Orpheus in attendance. I’ve got a lot of special guests coming in and I want to make sure they’re all happy. You got me?’
She nodded again, feeling her cheeks heat up for what seemed to be no reason at all. Damn her inborn shyness.
Helios stared at her. ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ He shooed her off. ‘Go!’
Skye squeaked out something which might have been a ‘yes, sir’ if it had been audible and scooted off in the opposite direction. Clouds of nervous butterflies flew around her stomach. It would be beyond busy and crowded in the Rock Room. She hoped the crush of people wouldn’t start making her feel claustrophobic, although at least as a waitress she’d be in the slightly more spacious VIP area.
Nervously, she opened the door to the bar of the Rock Room. The other members of staff were already busy setting up for the night. Spotting who she presumed was the head barman, she squared her shoulders and walked over. It was okay. She could do this.
She cleared her throat and he turned round. He glared at her. ‘What?’ he barked.
Trying not to let his unfriendly attitude faze her, Skye smiled and stuck out her hand. ‘Hi. I don’t think we’ve met before. I’ve been working in the Chill-out Room but Helios told me to come here tonight.’
The barman’s eyes travelled down her body and up again, making her feel rather grubby. He jerked his head up to the gallery area, the only place where tables and chairs were set up.
‘You’ll be up there. Tables six to fifteen. Treat them well and don’t get in my way.’
He turned and walked off.
‘I’ve made cupcakes,’ she whispered after his back. ‘They’re in the staffroom. Please help yourself.’
‘Hey!’ Emma bounced up. ‘What are you doing here?’
Skye explained and her friend beamed back. ‘Brill! We’ll have so much fun! Joy’s over the moon too because she’s backstage in the Green Room so she’ll definitely get to meet the band.’
Skye grinned. ‘Lucky her!’ She looked up and realised the barman had turned back and was glowering at her from under his bushy eyebrows. ‘I’d better go and make sure the tables are set up,’ she said hastily.
‘See ya!’
Skye weaved her way up to the gallery, leaving Emma behind. She straightened a few napkins and made sure all the tables were spotlessly clean. She might not have bothered; everything was already ready. She checked for errant pieces of rubbish on the floor or chewing gum stuck under the tables. She might be nervous about having been moved out of the relative comfort of the Chill-out Room, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t determined to do the very best job she could.
Soon the first customers began trickling in and, although the VIPs in Skye’s section didn’t start showing up until just before Orpheus started their set, she busied herself making sure everyone was comfortable and happy. There was a definite buzz in the air and a thrill of electricity in the atmosphere that Skye found contagious. She bounced from table to table, taking orders and ensuring no-one was left without a drink or nibbles. She even managed a little bit of banter, joking with a group of well-heeled girls about the fact that Oz, the lead singer of Orpheus, was apparently still single.
Despite the fact her feet were beginning to hurt, it occurred to Skye that she was genuinely enjoying herself. This was better than sitting curled up on the sofa watching soap operas and reality television. John Keats had once said, ‘Oh for a life of Sensations rather than Thoughts,’ and, for once, Skye realised she might actually understand what he meant.
She’d only just delivered a tray of fizzing cocktails to one table when she noticed that Helios had suddenly appeared and was hovering around the entrance to the gallery. He was fidgeting with a large ring which sat, squat and heavy, on one of his fingers. Startled at the thought that the brash club owner might actually be nervous, she sidled over to get a better view of what was going on.
A large group of newcomers was just entering the room. Every single one of them was dressed to the nines. Skye gawked at them. So this was what the other half actually looked like, she thought, suddenly realising how cheap and ill-fitting her clothes were in comparison. She watched as Helios wiped his hands on his clothes then strode forward to greet them. A large man emerged from the throng, clearly the alpha male of the group. He was just a fraction taller than the others, with hair which looked like spun gold even in the darkened club. He held himself with a poise and confidence that screamed of a life of privilege, making Skye wonder whether he was some kind of celebrity.
There were a few gasps and some stifled giggles behind her. Skye half turned and registered that the group of girls she’d been bantering with were staring open-mouthed in the man’s direction. She grinned to herself. It appeared that the band weren’t going to be the only thing providing this evening’s entertainment.
One of the women beckoned her over. ‘Who is that?’ she shouted over the music to Skye.
Skye shrugged, ‘I don’t know.’ Clearly, whoever he was, he wasn’t a particularly famous celebrity after all.
‘He’s so hot,’ one of them shrieked. ‘And he’s heading over in this direction. Oh my God!’
‘Can you find out his name?’ the first girl asked.
Skye bobbed her head. Anything to keep the customers happy. Holding her tray by her side so as not to bang into anyone, she walked over to the stairs, then stood to the side as the man and the rest of his friends came up with Helios next to them.
‘I’m so pleased you made it, Apollo,’ Helios was saying. ‘It’s a real honour to have you here.’
Skye noted something of a curl to the guest’s lip. ‘Well, I hope you have the best table picked out for us. After all, we don’t want to be bothered by the riff-raff.’
As if feeling Skye watching him, his cool blue eyes suddenly flicked over her then slid away in abrupt dismissal. She could feel her cheeks reddening in response. He might look like he could give Michelangelo’s David a run for his money in terms of sex appeal, she thought, but he was clearly a prick in real life. Somehow it made her feel a bit better about herself. She straightened up and, once the group had passed, returned to the group of still-staring girls.
‘His name’s Apollo,’ she told them.
‘Ooooh, Apollo!’ The shrieker smiled broadly. ‘Do you think he’s Italian?’
‘Too blond,’ said her friend dismissively, eyeing him up as he settled down in a corner of the gallery.
Noting that the customers at a nearby table had almost emptied their bottle of champagne, Skye left the gaggle of women to it. From what she’d seen of this Apollo’s character, she rather hoped that none of them decided to get a bit closer to him. At least they’d be distracted when the band came on.
Busying herself with making sure all her tables had their glasses topped up, Skye forgot about Apollo. There was a single man leaning against the balustrade and staring fixedly down into the crowd. She was tempted to check whether he was allowed to be in the VIP area, but decided against it when she realised he looked abjectly miserable. It was the bouncers’ job to worry about trespassers, Skye figured.
The man was wearing a poorly-fitting wig. She felt a wave of sympathy towards him. He was probably trying to disguise a bald spot or s
omething. She asked him if he wanted a drink and he just shook his head, before suddenly grunting as if in pain. Weird. Skye decided to leave him to it.
It wasn’t long before it became apparent that Orpheus were about to come on stage. There was a lot of movement on the darkened dais at the front of the Rock Room and then, abruptly, the entire club was plunged into darkness. Skye had just collected another tray of drinks from the bar and struggled to keep her balance as the crowd of people surged forward, eager to get close to their heroes. She was jostled and jabbed from various angles, and had to push her way through to get back up to the gallery just as the stage was flooded with multi-coloured lights and the strum of a bass guitar sounded.
Skye quickly delivered the drinks and moved to the side to watch the band as they plunged into their first song. It was one that Emma and Joy had played for her earlier that day – and one which the patrons of Nemesis clearly knew well, as they all immediately began singing along to the chorus. Oz, the lead singer, cupped the microphone with his hands, flexing his tattooed arms with their well-defined muscles as he lifted up the whole stand.
Emma joined her. ‘Aaaaaah!’ she shouted. ‘Aren’t they amazing?’
Skye grinned at her friend, nodding in agreement and watching the audience as they jumped up and down in time to the beat. She could get used to this. With the customers at her tables more concerned about watching Orpheus than drinking, she had time to enjoy the music properly herself. She watched awestruck as Oz leapt around the stage, feeding on the crowd’s energy. What must it be like, she wondered, to have so many pairs of eyes staring at you with such adulation? Strobe lights flickered across the room and she could feel her heart beating in time to the music. The heat was tremendous and, even from where she was standing, she could see the sweat slick on Oz’s skin. He used the corner of his pristine white wife-beater to wipe his brow, displaying a rippling tanned stomach as he did so.
‘Off! Off! Off!’ the audience began to chant.
He grinned at them and made a show of lifting his shirt further to reveal more of his body. ‘Is this what you want?’ he yelled into the microphone.
There was a roar of approval. The singer let go of the microphone and began to pull the top over his head, just as Skye’s view was blocked by someone passing in front of her. The rather supercilious Apollo, she noted, heading off for the restroom.
Emma nudged her. ‘Wow, did you see that guy?’
Skye rolled her eyes and leaned over. ‘Yeah, he’s a bit of a wanker, though.’
‘Language!’ Emma admonished in mock horror. ‘Although,’ she paused, ‘if you don’t like him, he should be the one you practise your lines with. It won’t bother you if you get the brush-off then.’
Skye swallowed. It had been too much to hope that her friend had forgotten about her promise to find someone to flirt outrageously with. Emma was probably right, however. She didn’t want to get to know the arrogant Apollo, so it wouldn’t matter when he ignored her and her skin turned flame-red. And at least it was dark.
Sounding much braver than she felt, she heard herself answer, ‘Alright, then.’
Emma punched her arm and beamed. ‘You can do it, girl! I’d better go check on my tables but I want to hear all the gory details later.’
Skye nodded weakly. ‘Sure.’
She turned round to see whether her customers needed anything. If they wanted more drinks she’d hardly be able to take time out to try and chat. Unfortunately, their glasses were all full, and every single one was focusing on the stage in front. Bugger.
Steeling herself, she twisted round to face the restroom door. How hard could it be? It was three sentences. Less than five seconds of her life. You want to become more confident, Skye told herself. You’ll never manage it unless you try.
The door opened and her stomach lurched. Apollo emerged, a small smile playing around his lips.
‘Do it,’ she whispered, and walked right up to him and smiled.
‘Hello, I’m Skye. I’m a waitress here at Nemesis. Is there anything you desire?’
He looked her up and down with his cornflower-blue eyes and smiled disarmingly. ‘Well, hello, Skye. Actually there is something I desire.’
An alarm bell began ringing in Skye’s skull. Uh-oh. Apollo leaned in towards her. He smelled of musk and masculinity. ‘What I really desire is,’ he said, pausing for effect.
‘Yes?’ Skye breathed, suddenly terrified.
‘For you to get the fuck out of my way.’ He leaned back, his smile disappearing. ‘My sights are set a little higher than on a serving girl.’
Stunned beyond words at his rudeness, Skye stepped back. He pushed past her, returning to his group of friends. She watched as he gestured towards her and said something. There was a wave of laughter from the group as they turned towards her. Feeling sick, she blinked rapidly and almost ran down the stairs. She squeezed through the people to the bar and shouted to the barman that she was taking her break. He gave her a brisk nod, as if irritated that she was bothering him, and Skye sprinted off to the sanctuary of the quiet staffroom.
She headed straight into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Her face was flushed and hot. Don’t be an idiot, she told herself firmly. You knew what kind of person he was; what did you expect would happen? She turned on the cold tap and let the water run under her fingers for a moment before splashing her face in an attempt to cool down. She grabbed a couple of paper towels and dried her skin, then took a deep breath and walked back to the door. Opening it, she realised that there were a couple of other staff members inside.
‘Where on earth did these come from?’ It was Marina, the Brazilian dancer, holding up a cupcake.
‘Goodness knows,’ came the answer.
Marina tossed the small cake down onto the table. ‘Must be some idiot who thinks that eating a mound of sugar, then dancing for an hour in a cage is a good idea.’
Her friend giggled. ‘Yeah, I can just picture you vomming all over Orpheus.’
‘Honestly,’ Marina said scathingly, ‘some people are just so stupid.’
Skye closed the door quietly and walked into one of the cubicles. She flipped the lock, lowered the toilet seat, sat down and began to cry.
Chapter Seven
Coop and Hermes arrived late at Nemesis, squeezing in behind a couple who were holding hands. Coop rolled his eyes and pointed to them, forgetting for a moment that his friend could no longer see what he was doing. He nudged him instead.
‘Look at those two,’ he said irritably.
Hermes jumped. ‘At least they’re happy,’ he muttered. ‘I look like I’ve got no mates and I’m coming to dance on my own.’
‘You’re wearing a disguise,’ Coop reminded him.
Hermes scratched at his wig. ‘Yeah, a bloody annoying one. I should have asked Zeus to make me invisible, too.’
One of the bouncers walked into Coop, shoving him against the wall. He cursed, while the bouncer looked momentarily confused, glancing around and trying to work out what he’d just banged into.
‘It’d be a lot more fun if people didn’t keep smashing into me.’
‘I’m not sure any of this is fun,’ Hermes said grumpily. ‘Tell me again why we’re here.’
‘As I have already told you, you’ll soon see,’ Coop said as they walked into the Rock Room. ‘Now, be a mate and go and get me a drink.’
‘I can’t,’ Hermes replied flatly. ‘You can’t be invisible and have some drink floating in front of you and expect no-one to notice.’
Coop scowled. ‘Fine.’ He looked around, spotting the quieter gallery area. ‘Let’s go up there. I’ll be less likely to be walked into there.’
‘Up where?’
‘There.’
‘Coop, I can’t see you pointing, remember?’
‘The gallery, up to the bloody gallery, alright? That’s where Apollo will be anyway.’
Hermes closed his eyes for a second. ‘I’m not sure that…’ He didn’t have
a chance to finish his sentence before his friend grabbed his elbow and began yanking him over in the direction of the stairs. A startled looking waitress passed him, obviously wondering why he seemed to be walking with his arm out in front of him.
‘This is a really stupid idea,’ he hissed.
‘Chill out,’ Coop drawled, climbing up the staircase and pulling Hermes over to the side. ‘Look, Apollo’s over there with all of his fawning minions.’
‘Yeah, so?’
‘We watch and wait.’
‘Can’t I just enjoy the band?’
‘We’re not here for the music,’ was the terse reply.
Hermes leaned against the railing and stared down at the crowd. He registered a small clear voice saying something next to him and half turned, realising it was a pretty waitress asking if he wanted a drink.
‘No, thanks,’ he muttered.
Coop dug an elbow into his ribs and he groaned in pain. The waitress looked alarmed and he managed to grimace a smile. Fortunately, she turned away and left him alone.
‘Don’t do that!’ he hissed.
‘What? I want a drink.’
‘And I already told you that you can’t have one. Coop, let’s just go.’
‘No chance.’
Ignoring Hermes’ protests, Coop turned round and watched Apollo. There had to be at least eight people surrounding him. Coop recognised a few of them as hangers-on from Olympus. None of them had any real power to speak of, probably because it made Apollo feel more important if he surrounded himself with weaklings.
Coop also noted Helios hovering anxiously downstairs, flicking nervous glances at the Sun God. Because, heavens forbid, Apollo shouldn’t have his every whim pandered to, thought Coop irritably.
