Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 157032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Ah, shit. What is my name? I can’t go with my real one. Umm. “Vivienne Jones,” I reply calmly.
The doormen all exchange looks and smile warmly. “Welcome, Miss Vivienne.” One purrs.
I push out a grateful smile, satisfied that they fell for it. I feel a surge of excitement that nobody questioned my fake name. Vivienne Jones—that’s pretty cool to be honest. I like it.
“Thank you,” I answer nervously. He steps aside, opens the door, and holds his hand out. I tentatively walk in.
I feel the air leave my lungs as the door shuts behind me.
Uh oh.
It looks like something out of a movie. When I was here for my interview, we were taken in the back entrance and didn’t see any of this. There’s dim lighting with deep coffee coloured walls and big fancy metal cut out lights hanging down from the super high ceilings. The floor is tiered to different levels with large carpeted steps running up the center. It could be an old picture theatre or something that has been converted. Spanning the whole back wall is the most exotic looking bar I have ever seen, and the bottom level has table and chairs which are situated around a catwalk stage. Shit, I wonder what shows go on down there?
The second level has large, luxurious leather armchairs placed singularly, facing toward the stage. The next level up is full of small round high tables with bar stools. My eyes rise up to the top level—the bar and busiest level of all three. My eyes flicker around nervously as I try to get my bearings. There are about fifty men in here, although it feels practically empty. Jeez, it must hold a lot of people when it’s full. I stand frozen on the spot as my eyes scan the space. There seems to be about ten women working behind the bar. Gorgeous women, all wearing cream leather skirts that are high waisted and hang just below the knee. Wearing tops made of, what looks like, cream silk that cross over in a drape across the chest and tuck into their high waisted skirts. Every now and then, as they move, you can just see a peek of the caramel-colored lace bra they have on underneath. I swallow my fear as I watch them for a moment. They’re all attractive, and I have to admit it, they do look classy… and happy. They’re all smiling and laughing with the customers... clients… what the hell do you call these guys?
This isn’t what I imagined at all.
My thoughts are interrupted. “You must be Ashley?”
I jump in fright and put my hand on my chest. “Oh, you frightened me.” I smile, embarrassed by the kind but hot looking woman that has just approached me. “Yes, I am,” I mutter. “But I don’t want to use that name here if that’s okay?”
She smiles a knowing smile. “Of course. What would you like to be called?”
“Vivienne Jones.” I wince. God, this is so wanky.
“Nice.” She holds out her hand to shake mine. “I’m Tiffany Smith.” She gives me an over-exaggerated wink and I smile, knowing that’s her fake name.
“Eliza told me to look out for you.”
“Oh.” I frown. “Is she here?”
“Not yet, she doesn’t start until eleven when the club opens.”
I look around. “Isn’t it opened now?”
“No, no. This is just the starting crowd. Things don’t heat up until 11.30 or so.”
“Oh.” I wonder what heat up means?
“Let’s get you a drink and you can hang with me until Elli gets here.”
Jeez, I’m like the new kid at school who is assigned a buddy. I fake a smile. This is awkward. “Okay.”
She walks over to the bar and I follow her like a child. This place is freaking uncomfortable. She walks to the side of the bar and opens up the black, glossy door into the back of the bar and I stand still. “Come in.” She grabs my hand and pulls me behind her.
“Don’t be nervous,” she whispers over her shoulder.
“This is just so far out of my comfort zone,” I whisper back.
She smiles cheekily. “It was for me, too, when I started.” She turns and looks me up and down. “You a law student?”
I shake my head. “Med.”
She smiles.
“You?” I ask.
“Engineer.”
I smile my first real smile. “Is this place really shitty? Should I just run now?”
She laughs out loud as she turns and pulls me along the back of the bar toward the end. “This is the best job I’ve ever had. It’s not what it looks like.”
I widen my eyes and glance back at the girls serving drinks behind us. She pulls up a stool and sits me at the end so that I am looking out into the crowd but out of the way. “What do you want to drink?”
Fucking Tequila!
“Cointreau and Coke, please,” I murmur.