V
Hazel Winters
I t’s been a few weeks since I started working at Haven and I’m exhausted. My eyes feel heavy as I wake up and I’m too warm. Throwing the covers off, I freeze suddenly.
Wait, why is my apartment warm?
I still can’t afford heating yet.
Walking over to the thermostat in my kitchen, I frown when I see that the light is turned on. I pull out my phone and check my bills app for the apartment.
Someone’s paid for my heating.
The thought bothers me as I head to the bathroom, but I take advantage of the newly warm apartment by taking a shower. The hot water shocks my skin, and I have to turn it down to a luke-warm setting, too used to cold showers.
The water cascades over my body, soothing my aching joints from working relentlessly. I lean my head back and let the water drench my hair, letting out a deep sigh at the warmth.
I take extra time to wash my hair thoroughly, before shaving and exfoliating my legs. I still manage to make it out of the shower in 8 minutes, not wanting to waste the hot water in case it doesn’t last.
Looking in the steamed mirror, I hardly recognise myself. My skin is less pale and gaunt, and I’ve managed to put on a little bit of the weight I lost from not eating.
I quickly dry and style my hair into long, ebony curls before putting it in a high ponytail. I pull two pieces out at the front to frame my face, before applying a full face of makeup.
Andros told me last shift that I didn’t have to stick to the uniform, so I put on my favourite black midi dress. It hugs my curves, whilst giving a teasing view of my cleavage. I’ll roll the long sleeves up when I get ready to work, but they provide extra warmth for now, especially for the walk to work.
Opting for comfort over style, I lace up my black converse and finish the look with my faded coat. Grabbing my tote bag, I check I have my keys and phone before heading out the door.
I almost make it without interruption, but my landlord is loitering by the main door.
“Seems you have a sugar daddy,” he tries to smirk, but it looks like he’s having a stroke. His greasy, grey hair is pushed back in waves and his stomach almost falls out of his black t-shirt.
He leers at me, making me feel chills up my spine.
“What makes you think that?” I ask, making sure to keep distance between us.
“Some guy came to me and paid for your rent and bills for the next three months,” he shrugs, his eyes gliding up and down my body. They linger on my breasts, and I pull my coat tighter around me to hide them.
“Did he give a name?” I ask, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
“Nope. Just handed me a wad of cash and told me it was for your apartment,” he replies, taking a step towards me. With my trauma response dictating my actions, I quickly sidestep around him, heading out the door before he can close me in or try anything.
I walk in a fast stride to the club, my mind racing as I come up with possibilities of who paid my bills.
When I make it inside Haven , I’m almost out of breath. I’d been looking over my shoulder, checking for the threat of my landlord following me, but he never was.
I’m still shaken by the situation as I put my stuff away in the locker room. Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I almost jump out of my skin. Spinning around, I see Dawson standing there with a concerned look on his face.
“Oh, hi,” I say sheepishly, trying to hide my embarrassment from jumping at his touch.
“What just happened?” He asks, and I detect a slight Italian accent in his voice.
“What do you mean?” I reply, turning around to shut my locker before facing him again.
“You just jumped when I touched you. Did someone hurt you?” he asks, his face hard with anger.
“No, I’m fine. Just have a creepy landlord,” I shrug, painting a small smile on my face.
He presses his lips into a hard line, seemingly not impressed with my answer. He makes a humming noise, deep in thought, as I stand there awkwardly. Suddenly, he pulls his phone out and starts typing on it.
“I’m adding you to a group chat with the rest of the guys. If your landlord tries anything with you, let us know,” he says as he continues typing on his phone.
“That’s really not necessary. He’s harmless,” I try to argue, but his intense glare shuts me up. My phone chimes in my locker and he nods to it, silently telling me to check it.
I roll my eyes, but open my locker again, pulling out my phone to see that he has added me to a group chat.
Plane Enthusiast has added you to a group chat.
Unknown: Dawson?
Unknown: What is this?
Plane Enthusiast: I’ve added Hazel to a group chat with us.
Plane Enthusiast: She has a landlord that is clearly bothering her.
I look up to Dawson in shock, narrowing my eyes at him for sharing my personal business with my other bosses. My phone buzzes again and I check the texts streaming in.
Unknown: Did he hurt you, Miss Winters?
I change the name, knowing that Atlas is the only one who calls me by my last name.
Mr Worldwide: Answer the fucking question or I’m coming down there.
Unknown: Give her time to respond, Atlas. She’s probably being bothered by Dawson right now.
Mr Worldwide: Fuck off, Theo.
I change Theo’s name to ‘Theodorito’.
Unknown: Are you okay, Angel?
An unintentional smile spreads across my face at Andros’ message, and I quickly change his name. Sighing, I type out a message in response.
Me: I’m fine. Dawson’s just overreacting.
Plane Enthusiast: I’m not.
Me: You are, and I have to go to work.
I place my phone back in my bag and close my locker, shaking my head at the continuous buzzing coming from it.
“We’ll talk about this later,” Dawson stares down at me, his eyebrows raised in determination.
“Maybe,” I smile and wink at him before heading through the door to the back of the bar.
Busying myself with setting up the bar for opening, my mind drifts back to who paid my rent. No-one knows of my situation, except for my bosses.
Surely, they wouldn’t do that, right?
I try to think of any other alternative but come up empty. It feels like a violation for them to do something like that, especially as I’ll be able to afford it myself once I’m paid at the end of the month.
Luckily, the bar opens before I can become truly angry at them for overstepping their bounds. The thought is replaced as I mix endless drinks for customers.
I watch humorously as the patrons become more and more drunk as the night goes on. Their words become slurred, and their movements are clumsy. The tips also increase, but so do the unwelcome comments about my body.
I ignore them for the most part, smiling and fake laughing at their awful jokes until they place an extra twenty in my hands.
Just as I finish serving an extra flirty customer, the feeling of eyes staring at me makes me look up to the balcony. Goosebumps cover my skin when I meet the intense stares of my four bosses.
Atlas and Theo are gripping onto the railings, their wide arms spread as they stare down at me with tight jaws. Andros stands next to Atlas with his arms crossed, an amused look on his face, and Dawson is smirking with his head tilted.
They’re all wearing pristine black suits, catching the attention of all the women in the club. However, they seem immune to their audience, too busy focusing on me.
I close my eyes for a second and let out a sigh, trying to slow down my heart rate. When I open them again, they’re gone. I frown but turn back to my work, taking the next order from a customer as I try to make sense of what just happened.
That was weird.