II
Hazel Winters
I (im)patiently wait by my phone for the email confirming my first shift. It has been a few days since I was offered the job, and I cannot get the three men out of my mind. There’s something about them, something engrained, like it’s their rightful place to be in my head. Maybe the brooding gaze of Atlas, or the playfulness that threatens from Dawson. Or maybe the equilibrium between the two that Theo brings.
I throw on a black hoodie and some black gym leggings, pairing them with fluffy socks. The apartment is still freezing but I’m slowly growing accustomed to it.
I scrape my dark hair into a messy bun and walk over to the kettle to make myself a cup of tea. As the kettle boils, I walk back to my bed to retrieve my phone, hoping I’ve been sent an update on the job.
I sigh when I see there is nothing but the photo of my Mum and I on my lockscreen. I pour myself a cup of tea and sit down on my tatty sofa, trying my best to get comfortable despite the evident lumps poking out of the cushions.
As I scroll through my social media feeds, a message pops up at the top of the screen.
Unknown: Spitfire, your first shift is Thursday at 3pm. Don't be late.
Recognising the nickname, I assume it to be Dawson.
I didn’t get the impression I would be interacting with them personally, though.
I wait a few minutes to seem like I am doing something productive, before responding to the message.
Me: Will be there :)
I gaze at my phone, cringing at sending a smiley face.
A full stop just felt too bare though.
Plane Enthusiast: Uniform should be delivered to you by today. See you soon, Spitfire.
I lock my phone and begin to panic. Tomorrow is Thursday.
Shit.
I grab the tattered bartending book I found at a charity shop a year ago and read over the chapters of pages stating the ingredients to make every standard cocktail. I even read up on some extreme cocktails that are only asked for once in a blue moon.
I am so engrossed in my studies that I don't even realise someone is at my door until they bang on it with such force that could concuss a small child. Jumping out of my skin, I slam the book close and throw it onto the sofa where I was sitting and run to open the door.
"Thought you'd be needing these,” Theo says huskily as he leans against the doorframe, holding out what I assume is my work uniform. He is wearing a similar suit to the one from a few days ago and his hair is styled neatly but messy.
A perfect art.
"Uhm...hello," I blink in confusion. I thought they were sending them to me.
Why is he delivering them himself?
"So, this is where you live, huh," he looks past me and into my apartment.
"Yeah. It's not much but I like it," I pause, "it's not usually this messy though."
A total lie.
"It seems... safe," he smirks, and I see a glisten of laughter in his eyes. I remember my neighbours are having their hourly row and zone into the loud shouting and banging noises coming from below.
"It's fine," I say, shrugging my shoulders. The truth is, I am not in a position to judge. It’s all I can afford. In fact, I can't even afford it right now.
I shuffle awkwardly, staring at him and wondering what to say next. Just as I am about to say something else, he gives a small two-fingered salute and starts walking away.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then," I shout after him.
"See you later, Winters" he says back without looking back.
I shut the door and slip down against it to the floor. The anxiety of going to work is starting to get to me. I shut my eyes and remember the grounding techniques my therapist gave me a few years ago.
Deep breath...inhale...exhale.
After what feels like an eternity, I manage to scrape myself up from the floor and flop into my unmade bed in the adjoining room. My stomach rumbles but I don't bother to look for food. I already know I need to ration out the food I bought today for the whole week. My eyes start to feel heavy, and I begin to fall asleep.
By the time they open again, the light is pouring in from the window. Rubbing my eyes, I look over to my phone and see the time.
Oh shit.
It's 2:35pm. I have twenty-five minutes to get ready and into work.
I scramble to the kitchen and grab the uniform Theo had dropped off. It was a simple black mini skirt, black tights and a long sleeve black top, with a low-cut neckline. That will help me get tips. I put it on quickly but leave the black apron that covers my skirt and take it with me to put on when I get there.
I apply some mascara and carve out my eyebrows slightly before scraping my long hair into a neat, slicked back ponytail.
I run out of the door with my keys, phone and apron in my hand. I only stop to put my coat on and check the time.
2:50pm.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My panicked walk becomes a sprint and by the time I am outside the bar, I know my face is red by the way that I am so out of breath.
I try to gather myself and straighten out my outfit before pushing through the double doors and lifting my head up. I plaster a confident smile onto my face. No one needs to see through my mask. It's not pretty.
Before I can walk through the foyer and into the main bar, an arm yanks me into the adjoining cloakroom.
I blink at the contrast of darkness compared to the brightness I was just in.
"You're late," a gruff voice mumbles into my ear from behind me.
"What in the-"