AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Fucking hell,” I breathe.
I take some of the papers on the table in my hand, trying to distract myself for a while. Most of them contain transaction dates with different clients.
A secret compartment underneath the table catches my attention when my legs hit the table’s legs and I try to pick up a document that has fallen.
I open the compartment and it’s filled with more papers. Transactions made to the same person on different dates. And a love note underneath the papers. I stare in disbelief.
My father was seeing someone.
Chapter eight
Adriana
“Kat, I need some help here,” I say, pouring shots.
The club is filled tonight. Friday nights are always like this. Strippers, barely clothed, are on the pole dancing to the sounds of electronic dance music from the speakers.
Everyone seems to be having fun. Well, everyone except me.
Kat and I are stuck behind the bar table, serving shots to the customers. My ears are almost bleeding out from the deafening sounds in the club. The crowd looks like they are enjoying themselves, swaying their bodies to the rhythm of the music.
“Diana, I'm coming,” she replies. I slide four more shot cups, hastily pouring whiskey into them. She is handling payments for the orders.
Out here, I’m Diana. And I work with Kat at the Marquee Oak nightclub on Eighth Avenue, downtown New York City.
Actually, I live with Kat. She has been the only person I’ve gotten along with since I ran away from home.
It’s been a month now. I sometimes regret leaving. There's comfort in the chaos you're born into. And I miss Beatrice. I want to call or text her but I don't want to get her into trouble. If I ever go back it'd be for her.
“Babe.” Kat taps my arm.
She interrupts my thoughts. “Yeah?”
“The cup’s full,” she points.
“Argh… fuck,” I say, stopping myself. The owner of the shot is already too drunk on his feet. His attention is on the lady dancing in front of him.
“Are you okay? It’s only a few minutes past midnight.”
“I’m so sorry.” I grab a towel to dry the table.
“Just don’t let the boss see yah,” Kat whispers. Her British accent is very rich, as is the way she pronounces her words.
“Two margaritas and a Martini, please,” a lady orders.
I let go of the wet towel to grab the drinks to mix for her order. Kat stops me with her finger raised.
“I'll take care of this one.”
I mutter a thank you, my arms feeling tired from serving shots. Kat walks to the wine rack. I clean up the last drop of the whiskey I spilled.
“Hey, Blondie,” the lady says.
“Hi?” I say awkwardly. I always have the most awkward conversations with customers around here.
“My friend over there thinks you’re really cute.”
She points to a tall, dark-haired guy standing a few feet away from us.
