A moment later, the girl that I spoke to asks me to follow her. We go upstairs, moving swiftly through the staff entrance, after passing crowds of people on the dance floor. I can still hear the music when we enter the other side of the club. There are stacks of beers and soft drinks set up by the wall. I wonder if Tequila would like that new Tahlia, a girl that has nothing to lose and everything to gain.
We stop in front of the last door and she knocks, grinning at me. A loud goofy voice shouts for us to come in.
“Hey, Rob, this is the girl that asked about a job in the club,” she says, trying to get his attention, but he is not even acknowledging her existence. After some time he finally looks up from his computer screen and barks at her to leave and get him a drink. It looks like this guy runs this whole place or he feels like he is important enough to bark orders at anyone that dares to knock at his door. Something inside tells me that this is a bad call, that a job like this will get me nowhere. The waitress disappears quickly, muttering incoherent words to herself, and for a split second I wish she hadn’t left. I suddenly feel intimidated by him, standing in his large office and hoping things will go to plan.
The man that sits in front of a spacious desk is very overweight. His large stomach is pouring out of his shirt, the buttons barely holding the already stretched material together. The collar around his fat neck is soaked, most likely with sweat. The name tag on the desk says Robert Jones, duty manager. His puffy red face is twisting the uneasiness in my gut.
I stand right in front of him, wearing my short black dress, provocative tights and my leather jacket. Rob’s eyes move up and down my body slowly, and that sinister smile of a creep spreads over his large face.
“So Melanie tells me that you are looking for a job?” he asks. There is something about him that isn’t right, but I can’t figure out what it is yet. His eyes dart further down to my cleavage and stay there for a long moment. My old self screams at me to get out of here, that I’m making a huge mistake, but I ignore my inner side. New Tahlia doesn’t back down. She fights until the last breath.
“Yeah, I can serve drinks, collect glasses, anything that you want me to do,” I say.
“Have you got a CV?” he asks.
“No. I moved recently and lost all my paperwork, but I have worked in a restaurant before. This job is made for me. I can assure you that I’m very reliable and I would never cause you any trouble,” I tell him, knowing that I can’t even give him any references or the name of the place where I used to work. My life in Braxton is over.
“We don’t employ just anyone from the street around here, love. It’s an exclusive club with exclusive clientele. You’re very pretty and have great legs, but I need references, and a CV. My boss likes to run checks on everyone that works for him,” he states, getting up and walking around the desk. I wonder how he manages to stand behind the bar and serve customers being so overweight. He smells and I brace myself not to back away from him.
Rob’s small watery eyes dart down to the rest of my body. Now is the time to come up with something witty, anything that can convince him to give me a chance. People lie on their CVs all the time, and he if hires me I need to start thinking about getting through to rat.
“I’m sure we can figure something out. I will work for free for couple of days. That way you can try me out before you commit to anything,” I say. For some reason Micah comes to mind, and fuzzy heat sizzles down my body when I think about him and my old self. If I take this path, I’ll have to forget about my previous life, the old self that still loves him.
Rob sighs loudly and comes in closer. His eyes are heavy on my boobs, scanning my hips and lips. The man needs to back off or I’ll scratch his eyes out. There is no way I’m letting him screw me in order to get this job.
“Oh yes, I’m certain that we can come to some sort of arrangement,” he chuckles, and drop of sweat roll down his cheek. I want to gag. There is nothing worse than a slimy man that thinks a bit of power can get him laid.
“What do you have in mind?” I press, hesitant.
“Suck me off, love. Pull my pants down and wrap your sweet lips around my cock, then you will have a job. You can even start straight away,” he says, leaning over and whispering these vile words into my ear. The blood drains from my face and I can’t believe that he just suggested that. I swallow hard, remembering the past, the ways that rat used to use my body in the bedroom.
Bile rises in my throat instantly and I think I’m going to be sick. Getting to rat is important, but there is no way I’m giving this filthy motherfucker a blow job.
The silence stretches over several moments while I think hard about my options, about the decision that I have to make. Either way this guy might not let me leave, so I need to give him something. I think about the knife that I placed earlier on in a small leather case that is now wrapped around my thigh. Rob is slow and I could easily stab him, but that’s not a solution. This will only get me into more trouble. Then, another idea pops into my mind. Rat. I’m here because of the bastard, in the club that he used to sponsor.
“I’m not interested in sucking on your limp weasel dick. Do you know Rudolf, the tall bulky guy that used to give money to your boss?” I ask innocently, fluttering my eyelashes.
The fatty takes the step back, narrowing his eyes at me. Oh yes, he knows exactly who I mean. I will get him playing my tune soon enough.
“What about him?”
“Well, he used to fuck me, so I guess I would have to call him complaining that one of the mangers in Shotgun wants to hire me for a blow job. Do you think that would make him happy?”
Rob presses his lips in a hard line and then wipes the sweat off his forehead. Yeah, I have given him something to think about. His little brain has to know who Rudolf is and, like everyone else, he knows that I’m not planning to be fucked around.
“Rudolf is dead, so stop bullshitting me and get down on your knees, bitch,” he snaps, his face even more puffy and sweaty.
I toss my black hair behind me, trying to show that I’m not intimidated by his repulsive order. The only person that made me uncomfortable is Micah, but he is far away now and he doesn’t know what I’m doing.
“Listen, you repugnant fucker, Rudolf faked his own death year ago, in order to get the police off his back. I was supposed to meet him in London a couple of days ago, but the business kept holding him up back in East England,” I say, looking down at my nails. He exhales sharply. I pull my phone out of my clutch and pretend that I’m scrolling through the numbers. “Do you want me to call him right now?”
The guy is sweating like a pig. Obviously he knows that no one in the right state of mind would mess with Rudolf’s fuck buddy.
“Fine, you can start tonight. I’ll call Donna and she will show you everything. You need to bring all the documents tomorrow night, so we can put you in the payroll,” he snaps, going back to his desk. I want to start dancing in the middle of the room. This fat motherfucker can’t keep getting away with shit like that. I bet I’m not the only person that had to suck him off in order to get a job.
That ID might be a problem. I want to earn money, but I can’t tell that arsehole that I’m on the run from the police, and that Rudolf is hoping to finish me off as soon as he gets his hands on me. Then I most likely would have to give him a blowjob, just to shut him up.
“Actually, I prefer if you pay me in cash. I had some trouble earlier on and I want to keep my name off the books,” I admit, pretending that it’s not a big deal.
“Whatever, just get the hell out of here before I change my mind,” he says, waving me away.
My head is in the bubbles and I can’t believe that I managed to pull this whole thing off so easily. Soon enough the fatty will get in touch with his boss, who most probably will notify Rudolf that I work for him. I’ll keep Tahir’s gun in my locker room from now on, and when the rat shows up I’ll be ready.
Outside, Donna turns out to be a twenty-something beautiful long-legge
d blonde with fake nails and fake eyelashes. She has a white T-shirt on with big hearts and red very skimpy shorts.
“Hey, Rob just called, so you’re starting tonight, right?” she asks, hugging me. My anxiety shows its claws. I fake my smile, wondering why the hell I’m panicking all of a sudden. Whatever I have to do, it won’t be for long, and it’s nothing new. Back in Braxton I enjoyed working in the restaurant.
“Yeah, would you be able to show me around? I have done waitressing before,” I say, telling myself that I’m fine with all my new responsibilities. At the same time, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to hold it together when the rat shows up in the club unexpectedly.
“So what’s your deal? Everyone knows that Rob is a slimy pig who doesn’t hire anyone, no offence. I had to give him head three times before he let me work here,” she says, eyeing me intensely. I guessed right. Fatty is an old pervert that likes to take advantage of hopeless girls that want to earn some cash. If Micah got his hands on him he would hang him by his balls. Crap, I’m bringing him back again and that’s not good. He is my past, and we are done.
“That arsehole should be fired for doing shit like that. Luckily for me I didn’t have to blow him. I just know a certain person, and that shut him up straight away,” I explain, passing a few other staff members and some strippers that are fanning themselves walking into to the large changing room. “Hey, I didn’t know that there was a strip club here?”
“Oh yeah, it’s in the basement, but we aren’t allowed to go there. The boss hired hostesses to take care of his special guests.”
“Special guests?” I repeat, wondering who she means exactly. Is it possible that some of rat’s people are there now? If that’s the case, I’m screwed.
“You know, cops, judges, politicians and bad boys,” she giggles. “I’m taking some pole dancing lessons; hopefully I’ll have a chance to show them what I can do. The money is amazing, way better than the measly tips from waitressing.”
I don’t respond, trying not to interfere with her plans. As far as I’m concerned she should be running away from this place, as far as she can.
She walks me around, showing me the changing room and the rest of the club. Explains how the rota and the shift system work. She got through all the duties that I would need to cover. Today is just the orientation; tomorrow someone else is going to train me working on the bar.
We walk into the staff room filled with a few other girls. Most of them are young, with oversized boobs and heavy makeup.
“God, I have been babbling all this time and I haven’t even had a chance to ask your name?” she says, giggling hysterically.
“Janine Morgan,” I say.
“Janine Morgan, another newbie,” says a slightly familiar voice behind me. “Good. Maybe Rob finally hired someone with a brain.” I turn around abruptly and my heart stops. Hunter Shaw, one of Rudolf’s most trusted people, is standing in front of me with a huge smile on his face. Now I definitely know that I’m completely and utterly screwed.
Chapter Eighteen
Tequila is not always acrid
Micah
Tequila doesn’t utter a single word to me when we get out of that club. She is visibly shaking, walking ahead. When I call for her, she hides her hands in her coat pockets and mumbles incoherent words to herself. When she suddenly refuses to climb back into the van, I’m just about to lose my shit. We can’t stay in this neighbourhood for any longer. A couple of guys from across the road are already eyeing us with interest.
“I need to be alone right now, so I’m going to walk home,” she finally whispers in a shaky voice. I drag my hands through my hair, trying to gain my last bit of self-control. Kiki shoots me a confused look. She is taking this better than I expected.
“Stay here for a second, lock the doors, do not get out, and only open the door for me,” I say to her and run after Tequila. Dimitri must have said or done something to her when she was at the bar. I wish I cracked his skull open.
“No, I’m not letting you walk home alone. We are being watched. Let me drop you off,” I say, pushing my anger and frustration away, trying to act like it’s not a big deal. She finally lifts her eyes to look at me, her expression is filled with uncertainty and shallow fear. She hesitates, then after what feels like hours, she turns around and walks back to the van without further arguments.
I roar the engine back to life and get the fuck out of this place as fast as I can. The three of us are sitting close to each other, and I start to wonder if I’ll ever see Tahlia again. The Russians want Rudolf dead, but he has vanished off the face of this earth. They might have trouble tracking him down and every second fucking counts.
“Where to?” I ask Tequila. She gives me directions, and I follow the signs on the road. For most of the drive everyone is quiet. Tequila is falling apart and this was the last thing that I expected. She seems completely out of focus, lost like a small child in the forest. Forty minutes later I park outside a round of semi-detached houses. The neighbourhood seems decent enough. I don’t trust her alone in the house, so I walk her back to the door. Kiki follows along. Several minutes later when she is struggling to open her door, I take her keys off her.
“Let me do that for you,” I say.
“You should go, Micah. I’m fine, everything is fine,” she keeps saying, making her way to the kitchen. Kiki walks in shyly after me and shuts the door. Her house is great, homey and warm. It looks like Tequila has very good taste. The living room has a small fireplace, and I notice rare antiques in the corridor.
“What’s wrong with her? Is she losing the plot?” Kiki whispers to me when we both leave her be and walk inside the spacious living room. I don’t answer because I don’t know what is going on with Tequila. I only hope she can pull her shit together soon.
There are no missed calls on my phone. Ivan hasn’t given me any time frame, so I have no clue what to expect. Over and over I keep getting that gut-wrenching feeling that I’ve made a mistake, that the Russians are going to screw me over. I don’t have any issue with killing another human being. Rudolf tortured Tahlia, so now he should know what’s coming for him. I rub my face, thinking about T, about his situation in the gang. I cut the contact and left him in Braxton, so now I can only hope that he is all right. Rogers is working hard to track him down.
“Go and check on her,” Kiki says. “I don’t think we should be leaving her alone right now.” I nod and leave her be. Sometimes I wonder how this girl managed to survive in the mental institution alone, without any support, but right now she seems so mature.
I head upstairs when I fail to find Tequila in the kitchen. Overwhelming anger and frustration cloud my better judgment. Tequila cannot fall apart right now. Tahlia needs her, and I can’t keep pretending that I have everything in control.
Every torturous minute without Tahlia leads me to think that time has purposely slowed down so I can keep being punished with the overwhelming feeling of grief and loss. And there is that horrible video that I was obligated to watch during the open case when we were cataloguing evidence. I witnessed Tahlia’s rape. I know that it wasn’t just once. She’d been raped a couple times a day, most likely always by the same man.
I clench my fists until the crescent of my nails breaks the skin of my palms, vowing that I will never let her suffer like that again. I won’t.
Once upstairs I check all the rooms, until I find Tequila in the biggest bedroom. The door is ajar, and when I push it forward, I see her curled up in the corner of the room. She has a bottle of vodka in her hand. She keeps taking long gulps, shaking her head furiously every time she tries to swallow the alcohol.
“Tequila, what the hell? Are you all right?” I ask, kneeling beside her. Tequila doesn’t make eye contact she simply stares off into the distance with a look of abject sorrow on her face, lost in a world of memories.
“Don’t make me do this, Mum, no … I don’t want to go inside,” she says all of a sudden, then repeats the same sentence a few times
. I try to grab the bottle off her, but she starts screaming, telling me to get away from her.
“Tequila, for fuck’s sake, I’m not going to hurt you. Please talk to me,” I say.
“Leave me alone, you arsehole. You don’t get anything. He was going to take me, treat me like his property,” she says, trailing off and mumbling again to herself.
“I would never have let that happen. I got you out of there; you are safe now. He doesn’t know you or where you live. You need to process this and then snap the fuck out of it. We need to be strong to find Tahlia. Then you can break if you need to but Christ, Tequila, I need you to get it together.”
I get up and pace around the room for a bit while she talks more nonsense mainly to herself. The same words over and over. I start to think she might unravel because of that Russian freak. I can only hope that this is her way of processing what happened earlier.
I look out the window admiring her garden. Everything in this house is immaculate, and I know that we have only known each other for a couple of days, but I realize I never asked her what she does for a living. She is Tahlia’s friend and so far I haven’t made any effort to get to know her.
I notice some paperwork on the top of her dresser, and a picture there catches my eye. It’s the only one that she has. My heart shudders in my chest and a cold chill runs down my spine when I recognise those wide green eyes. Younger Tahlia is staring back at me. Tequila has her hands wrapped around her shoulders. Both girls seem happy in that photo, relaxed.
Tahlia’s hair is green in the photo, and her arms are not all covered with colourful tattoos. That hunted look on her face is still there, but she seems happier, relaxed. Tequila keeps drinking her vodka, staring blankly at the opposite wall. She stopped talking now. I pick up the papers scanning through them, hoping to find some more about Tequila. There is a letter in the pile, a letter addressed to Tequila from Tahlia.
He keeps coming back. He keeps showing up in my flat and I don’t know what to do. I can’t fucking fool myself. It’s about the case, that damn stupid murder case. Maybe I have made a mistake coming to Braxton. Now Suranne is dead and the police can’t find any leads.
Love & Hate Series Box Set 2 (Love & Hate #3-4) Page 36