by April Fire
I rolled out of bed that morning, glancing at my phone- I had a bunch of invites out to parties and events that evening, but I was working. Typical. Dino’s paid well, and I was lucky that it did, because otherwise I’d have an even harder time explaining to myself why I was spending Saturday night in a bar full of sleazy old guys ordering Scotch that they thought made them seem sophisticated and worldly, when the only thing it really made them was drunk as fuck.
I sighed as I climbed into the shower, the hot water waking me up. I had to be in early to get the food prep down for the rest of the day, and I didn’t have time to dawdle around doing nothing. I had to admit, it wasn’t exactly how I saw my life unfolding at the age of twenty-five.
I mean, four years in college studying something, and you just assume that things are going to twist and turn and fit into your life so that you get a job in that field. I had studied music, playing the cello and the bass guitar and earning outstanding grades. I was in a handful of bands and orchestras, and it seemed like I had it on lockdown. Yeah, the life of a musician was never easy, but I could deal with the rejection as long as it led to something in the long haul.
And, well, it hadn’t. I still went to auditions when I could, still turned out at open mics in the hopes that someone might pay attention to me, but I was far from hopeful these days. What I had discovered was that there was always someone sharper, someone with more charisma, someone who had worked harder for this than I had. Someone who deserved it more. I had played a few shows here and there, but nothing notable.
I found myself taking on more and more shifts at the bar, filling up my time with work so I could at least make enough money to rent a place of my own. That was the only way that I really felt like an adult; at least I had an apartment to myself. My focus shifted from making enough money to live on while I pursued my music career. to making enough money to live on while I filled my time with things that didn’t end in heart-crushing disappointment.
I just couldn’t take it anymore, the slow, steady decline of things not working out. I did my best to put it out of my head, but as I climbed out of the shower and glanced over at my zipped-tight cello case, I couldn’t help but feel a stab of regret. I wasn’t fair. This wasn’t how things were supposed to map out for me, and I felt crappy admitting it.
I got dressed, did my hair and make-up, and grabbed a pair of comfortable shoes that I could spend an eight-hour shift wandering around in. I had cottoned on quickly to the fact that dressing up cute would get me a bunch more tips than sticking to my feminist principles; I still found myself internally yelling at the dudes who leched over me and the other floor girls, but I did my best to ignore it. They were assholes, but they were assholes who were paying us good money and there was rarely any more trouble than just a look.
Work wasn’t far from my apartment, so I walked the few blocks and enjoyed the morning sunshine. It was beautiful out, the thin, watery light pouring through the buildings surrounding me. It was a Saturday morning, so the streets weren’t too busy yet, most of the revelers from the night before still in and nursing their hangovers.
That had been me, only a couple of years before, but now I rarely got drunk or got too crazy. I would wake up the next morning in a haze of guilt and headaches, and peel myself out of the bed of whoever I’d hooked up with the night before.
If there was ever an express-train to feeling even shittier about yourself, it was using sex with strangers as a way to prop up your ego. Sex was hardly sacred to me now, but I didn’t want to have it with just anyone for any reason.
That was why Darius had so taken me by surprise before. I never usually looked at guys and felt that urge, that desire for them. But he had something about him -- I didn’t want to be clichéd, but I just felt drawn to him in a way I rarely did anymore. He was hot, sure, but usually I was a look-but-don’t-touch kind of girl. But I had to speak to him, had to get to know him, even if he was kind of a cocky asshole. At least he made me laugh.
When I arrived at work, I tried the back-staff door and was surprised when I found that it was open. I was almost certain that I was the first one coming in today, but it seemed like someone had beaten me to the punch. I pushed the door open, made my way to the staffroom, and pulled off my jacket, then headed through to the kitchen to see who else was in.
“Hello?” I called, not seeing anyone for a moment. And then, I heard a voice from behind me.
“Hey, Emilia?” The familiar voice of my shift manager came from behind me, and I turned around.
“What’s up, “I began, and then I saw who was standing with him. My jaw dropped as my shift manager continued to speak.
“We filled that waiting position,” he jerked his head at the guy standing next to him. “And we were hoping you might be able to train our new member of staff.”
Of course, it was Darius. Why the fuck not? There I was, sure that the universe had separated us for a reason, and now it had dumped him back on my lap. Of course, I didn’t know why I’d thought anything different. I’d told him about the job, and he must have applied for it, and now he was here -- standing in front of me in our waiting uniform, black shirt and black slacks, so far removed from the cocky, swaggering boxer I’d met only a few days ago.
“Sure,” I nodded, smiling at my manager.
“I’ll let you guys get to know one another,” he disappeared around the corner and into the office, leaving the two of us alone together again. Darius raised his eyebrows at me, and I stared back at him.
“I cannot believe this,” I shook my head. “I thought you said you didn’t do customer service?”
“I don’t,” he admitted. “But I got rejected from the interview I had, and I remembered you telling me about this job, and I guess I just thought - fuck it. I need some income, and this seemed like the best way to do that.”
“How the hell did you get this?” I raised my eyebrows. “Seriously. I mean, the whole time I’ve worked here, I’ve never seen a guy working the floor.”
“I think they want someone out there to act as a deterrent to the more handsy guys,” he suggested. “I didn’t question it too much, to be honest.”
“Well, obviously,” I put my hands on my hips and looked at him. He was still gorgeous, but in a different way than before; in the ring, he had been all about that raw power and masculinity, while here, he was softer, gentler. My eyes drifted down over his body, and I did my best not to remember how he looked with his clothes off.
“So, I’ve got to train you, then,” I sighed, making out like it was the biggest pain in the world. He grinned, a bit of that cocky swagger back in his eyes again.
“Maybe I can teach you a thing or two,” he teased, and I flushed.
“What, about boxing?” I remarked, brushing him off. He glanced around and took a step closer to me, and it was clear that I hadn’t said the right thing.
“Would you mind, uh, not bringing that up around anyone here?” He asked softly. “I just…I don’t want anyone to find out. I could lose my job.”
“No problem,” I cocked an eyebrow. “As long as you can keep your mouth shut, I can, too.”
“Thanks,” he nodded gratefully, and then turned to the kitchen. It was empty but for the two of us, and I had a momentary flash of what I could do with all this alone time with him…
“So, uh, where do I start?” He asked, reminding me that as much as I might have wanted to, it wasn’t the time for me to get lost in little fantasies of him. I had a job to do, and I wasn’t about to let him get in the way of that.
“Okay, let’s start with the food prep,” I clapped my hands together, the loud noise banishing anymore inappropriate thoughts I might have been having about one of the most outrageously gorgeous men I’d ever aid eyes on.
The rest of the shift went by surprisingly quickly; Darius was a fast learner and the last thing he wanted was to be sitting around doing nothing. Plus, he seemed to slot in the dynamic of Dino’s really easily, especially once the rest of the sta
ff started to arrive. I spotted a couple of the floor girls eyeing him up, but he was tailing me for the day and didn’t seem to be paying them much attention as he tried to get the table numbers straight and get food out to the right place at the right time.
He ducked any difficult questions about what else he did in his spare time as deftly as he ducked punches in the ring, and I did my level best to keep my mouth shut. I could see the looks of disbelief when he told people that he used to work in IT- and I wondered if I’d have believed him if I was just meeting him for the first time. If I hadn’t gone along with Nina that day, would he even be giving me a second look? Would I be doing the same for him?
It was manic, as it always was on days like this, and I found myself rushed off my feet trying to keep on top of all the orders that were pouring in. When my shift was over, I handed over my apron to the woman coming in to cover for me, grabbed my coat, and immediately fled outside before anyone could rope me into staying for the rest of the night. I was already dreaming of a shower and my bed -- and that’s exactly what I would have done, had I not heard a voice from behind me as I left.
“Hey!”
I turned around, and found myself facing Darius once again. He’d gotten off the same time I had, but I’d assumed he’d have a fight to go to and would be rushing out the door.
“What’s up?” I cocked my head at him, and he shrugged, suddenly a little bashful. Did I really have that kind of effect on him, or was he just playing up that side of him to get me to feel sorry for him?
“I’m headed to a party,” he shrugged. “I was wondering if you wanted to come.”
“Dressed like this?” I gestured down at my uniform, which was crumpled from a day’s work.
“You look good to me,” Darius remarked, a smile curling at the corners of his lips. I glanced away, feeling that flush move up my face once again. God fucking dammit, this guy…
“Sure, why not?” I shrugged. It had been a while since I’d done anything as spontaneous as this, and it wasn’t like I had anything better planned for that night anyway. He grinned, and offered me his arm.
“Split a cab?” he suggested as we made our way down the street; I tentatively tucked my arm into his, and was surprised by how strong he felt even under his clothes. I paused for a moment, trying to get my head together, before I realized that he was waiting for an answer.
“Depends how far we’re going,” I shrugged.
“Just the other side of town,” he replied nonchalantly, and I stopped dead in my tracks.
“Sorry, where exactly are we going tonight?” I asked firmly. The other side of town could have meant so many things, and I wasn’t sure I was necessarily on board with all of them. I liked to keep things strictly middle-class, dropping by apartment parties and fancy clubs when I could drop the cash. Hitting up some stranger’s party in a part of town I didn’t normally go to…that sounded like a bad idea.
“It’s just one of my buddy’s apartments, on Hope Street,” he didn’t make eye contact, and I could tell that he was hoping I wasn’t about to run away screaming. Hope Street? I had heard of that. A lot of people assumed that the name was ironic because of all the trouble that happened in that part of town. I took a deep breath, and steadied myself- did I really want to do this? Was he worth it? I shot him a look, and he met my gaze steadily.
“If anything happens, I can take care of you,” he promised. “And trust me, it’s safe. You’ll have a good time, I promise.”
“Fine,” I agreed. “But I’m holding you to all of that.”
“Please do,” he grinned, and flagged down a cab. We slid into the back seat, and I reluctantly removed my hand from his arm. The scent of his aftershave lingered on my shoulder where we’d been touching, and I surreptitiously took another little whiff to tide me over till we got to the party.
We arrived a few minutes later, and Darius quickly hustled me up some stairs through a building where the door apparently didn’t have a lock to keep the crazies out. Hope Street was already full of people milling around, huddled in little groups under street lamps. I glanced around without thinking, then immediately dropped my gaze to the floor instead. Didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention. Jesus, what had I let Darius talk me into with this shit?
As soon as we arrived at the apartment, Darius pulled out a key and let himself in.
“Wait, is this your place?” I screwed up my face in surprise.
“Might be,” he shrugged, and he looked a little embarrassed to have to admit it. “That’s not a problem, is it?”
“Nope,” I shook my head. I had met this guy at an amateur boxing night, after all -- I couldn’t exactly act shocked and scandalized that he wasn’t living the cleanest or safest of lives. He led me inside, and into his kitchen where he poured me a drink. I smiled my thanks and took it, and began to take in my surroundings.
The place was packed --there must have been at least forty or fifty people crammed into that tiny apartment, wall to wall. Muffled music was blaring from somewhere, but you could barely hear it over the sound of the conversation. Someone bounded up to Darius and caught him by the shoulder, spinning him around.
“Ian!” Darius’ face lit up and he gave him a quick hug. “Thanks for getting all of this together, man.”
“Thanks for giving me somewhere to practice my skills,” Ian replied, and glanced at me.
“This is Emilia,” Darius introduced us quickly, and Ian raised his eyebrows.
“Oh, so this is…?”
“The woman who’s training me, yeah,” Darius quickly filled in the blanks, giving Ian a look that seemed to be imploring him to shut the fuck up. I couldn’t help but smile- so Darius had been talking about me, had he? Good to know.
“Right,” Ian looked me up and down. “Well, I’ll catch you guys later, huh?”
“Sure thing,” Darius nodded and watched as Ian vanished again.
“What have you been telling him about me?” I asked, emboldened by the buzz of conversation around me. Darius shrugged, and I could tell he was hoping he could have avoided that question.
“Nothing that I want to repeat,” his eyebrow flicked up ever-so-slightly, and my breath quickened a little. Was this seriously happening? And was I being a major idiot for even considering hooking up with a colleague? I had never even been tempted before, but with Darius and me, it only seemed like a matter of time before we fell into bed together. I took another sip of my drink, and looked around the party.
“Will you be okay by yourself? There are a few people I need to catch up with,” Darius cocked his head to the side, and I nodded.
“Go ahead,” I waved my hand vaguely at the crowd. “As long as you don’t forget about me.”
“I won’t,” he promised, and moved behind me to get out of the kitchen, letting his hand linger on my waist as he did so. I shivered at his touch- his fingers were warm even through my shirt, and I wondered how they would feel against my bare skin.
I took a deep breath, downed my drink, and moved out of the kitchen to join the party proper. It had been a while since I’d just gone to a place where I knew nobody, but here I was and I had to admit, it felt kind of good. No one knew me here, no one was aware of my past as a failed musician, or was going to question me on how the music was coming along and then screw their faces up in awkwardness when I had nothing to tell them.
I had a couple more drinks and found myself in conversations with strangers, the kind that seem so dense and important at the time but are actually completely ephemeral.
I wasn’t sure what time it was when Darius came and found me again; the night had turned from pale blue to pitch black outside the window, and I was feeling pleasantly tipsy as I made my way to the kitchen to grab another drink. As I did so, I found Darius already inside. He turned to me with a grin.
“Having a good time?”
“Hell, yes,” I agreed. “How do you know all these people?”
“It’s more that they know me,” he shrugge
d. “A lot of them come to my matches, and they get to know each other and want somewhere to hang out that isn’t that old warehouse.”
“So, you host them here?”
“Whenever I can,” he nodded. “I like the community. It’s a real mix of people.”
“You can say that again,” I agreed as I watched a woman with pink hair and piercings making out with a dude in a suit against the wall behind him.
“I think it’s starting to wind down here, though,” he remarked, and craned his neck to watch as a few more people left the place. “Do you want me to call you a taxi, or…?”
I looked up at him, and let me teeth trail across my bottom lip. I knew what I wanted --- the alcohol buzzing around my system had emboldened me, had promised me that this was nothing but a great idea, that if I didn’t go for it I was crazy and should just go home and curl up in bed with twenty cats right then and there.
I wanted him so badly that it almost ached inside me, and no matter how much I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t. He was right here in front of me, flirting, talking, laughing, touching me, and if I passed him up now he might think I just wasn’t interested at all. Yeah, we had to work together- but there would be no way I could keep my head on the job with all the tension between us.
“I think I’d like to stay,” I murmured in reply. He looked back at me, his eyes sweeping over my body as they had done the first time we’d met. I hardly knew this guy. I had promised myself that sex was something special, something to wait for, but I wanted to throw it all out the window as he took me in, blatantly looking me up and down. I loved the feeling of his eyes on me- it was like some kind of compulsion. I needed him. Needed to feel him against me. I remembered the way his body had looked when he was standing there in that ring, and I knew I couldn’t wait any longer.
He stepped forward, and placed his hands on the refrigerator behind me, either side of my shoulders. My breathing quickened, and my heart hammered in my chest as his gaze moved down to my lips. I flicked my tongue out across them, placing my drink carefully back up on the side to make sure I kept my hands free. And then, finally, it happened.
