6. Serenity
Chapter six
Serenity
B enji, or Ben for short, is a half-Filipino gay bartender with gaged ears, black hair and a too-cool-for-school vibe. But instantly, I feel like besties. He shows me the basics, where things are, what the rules are, etc. There's not much to taking orders, giving them to him, and then ferrying drinks back to the tables, but Ben has a way of explaining things to me simply, without making me feel dumb. My ADHD and anxiety are already sky high. If I don't get this right, I'll let Madame, Daniel and Declan down. I might lose this job, and Declan may decide I'm not worth the effort and turn me out in the street.
I used Madame's phone to call Alex at the cafe and quit. I hated not giving her notice, but she understood. When my mom and stepdad can't find me, the Cafe will be the second place they look after Ella's house. Alex also assured me that I would always have a place with her if I ever came back. She didn't say it outright, but I felt like she knew her cutting my hours was what caused all of the drama. It's not her fault, though.
After Ben walks me through the basics, he spends the first two hours of our shift filling me in on all the gossip and stories behind the people showing up. Men and women dressed in black tie and elegant dresses filter in in singles and in groups.
An energetic young woman with a her hair in a pixie cut and a blue streak in it named Mindy, and I split the room, while Ben manages one bar and a man named Josh manages the other. Madame gave me black polo with the company logo on the chest, letting the guests know that I am staff and not to be touched.
The crowd is light at first. I suppose people don't go looking for kink before nine? Serving is easy work and it keeps me busy enough that my mind doesn't spiral into unhealthy thoughts. Just before eleven, the angry man from before, Declan, and the kind man, Daniel, sit at a table in my area with an equally handsome man. But this new one is huge. He must be six foot six. This man is more intimidating than the other two. The other two look like they work out in the gym, but they're definitely office-types. The third man looks like he lifts small cars on the daily. The fabric of his tailored suit would scream if it had a voice, with how tightly it's stretched across his biceps.
I pick up my pad of paper and approach them to take their orders. Even though three drinks shouldn't be difficult, I write down the drinks in a circle, where the person is sitting at the table. It help keep me from anxiously second-guessing everything the minute they order.
"Gentlemen," I say with a shy smile. "Can I take your orders?"
"You need a pen and paper for three drink orders?" Declan mutters. The familiar sense of shame and embarrassment wash over me and I close my eyes. I'd been made fun of at school my entire life. I struggled to pay attention, to form any real friendships, to be understood. I would interrupt people talking because I had already guessed the end of their story. Or my brain would jump three trains of thought ahead and I'd add something that seemed irrelevant to the conversation. It would make people feel like I wasn't paying attention to them or didn't care about what they were saying at all.
A story about a birthday party from the prior weekend would remind me of my aunt Delilah who was born on February 29th and only ever had like fifteen birthdays in her sixty years because she was a leap year baby; which would remind me that according to tradition, it's acceptable for a woman to propose to a man on February 29th. The custom was said to have come from St. Bridget, who complained to St. Patrick that women had to wait too long for their beaus to propose.
So a friend telling me about her birthday party ended up with me asking if St. Bridget was a real person or not.
Which led to a lot of confused looks.
I learned quickly just to keep quiet and keep to myself. But it never took long for people to realize I am different.
I try to brush off the insult. These are my new bosses. I can't afford to piss them off.
"I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, and," I give what I hope is an unaffected shrug. "Better safe than sorry?"
Daniel elbows Declan in the ribs, chastising him.
Declan tries again. "Your eye looks better."
I can't hide the wince before it comes.
"Three Macalans on the rocks," Daniel says, and I have a suspicion he's made the order simple for my sake. Another thing I hate.
"Yes, sirs," I say before turning on my heel and rushing away. Even with my back turned, I can feel their gazes on me.
I rush to the bar before slapping my hands against it and hanging my head, trying to catch my breath. "Girl, I don't know what you did to those men, but they look hungry enough to eat you," Ben says. I let out a tired laugh.
"Or fire me. I'm screwing up so much and it's only my first day. I can't afford to lose this job," I say, staring Ben in the eyes, hoping he can see my desperation. My muscles are twitching with nerves, my breaths coming quick and choppy, and my eyes are misting up. He places a hand over mine.
"You won't, Serenity. I promise. But I think you need to know something about those three." He proceeds to pour their orders.
"That's Declan, Harrison and Daniel. CEO, CFO and COO of The Envelope, respectively. They started this because they're all doms. Your shy girl-from-next-door, and 'yes sirs' is like catnip to their dicks."
"Oh my God! Ben! Please don't talk about their dicks!"
He laughs at me. "Oh, honey. I'd be surprised if you don't see at least one of them before the night is over." My face flushes red and heats. I'm not cut out for this. How can I see someone's dick - or someone having sex - and look them in the eye ever again?
Ben waves a hand dismissively. "You get used to it. I've seen so much dick it almost makes playing with my own a little boring now."
"Ben. Honey." He looks up at me, worried. "Please don't talk about dicks anymore? I'm still new and so out of my comfort zone."
"Surely, you've seen a dick before?"
I place the drinks on my tray, not making eye contact. The silence is answer enough.
"Ser, are you a virgin?" he whispers, ensuring no one is around us. I narrow my eyes at him and pinch my lips together. My silence is my answer.
Ben laughs good-naturedly. "Oh my God, that's perfect. The virgin and the sex club." He goes to wipe a tear.
"And I'd appreciate it if you kept that information to yourself," I growl through clenched teeth.
"Oh, honey. You know I can't do that." He gives me a mockingly sympathetic look. I should be mad, but it's not really a big deal. He can tell whoever he wants. Maybe it's better if it's out and over with.
I groan and roll my eyes before walking back to the three men who intimidate me the most. I gently place their glasses in front of them, slightly to the right of each, so it'll be easier to reach, assuming they're all right-handed. Shit. Are they? I check the men for watches to see what wrist they're wearing them on for clues. Suddenly, I feel them staring at me. I clear my throat and bring my tray to my chest as if I can hide behind it.
"Anything else, s..." I was about to say 'sirs', but Benji's warning stopped me. I didn't want them to get the wrong idea about me. Or get turned on by me. I like floating under the radar, not noticeable. I'd prefer these men forget I exist, but the way they're all staring at me makes me feel like that's unlikely.
"How are you liking your first day?" Daniel asks. He's the friendly one of the group.
I take a deep breath in and out before answering. "I like it so far. It's... not what I expected. But it's good." Shut up, Ser. Shut up before you say something stupid.
"Your shift ends at three am. Wait for me by the front doors and I'll drive you home."
The look I give him must be one of pure panic.
" My home," he corrects. My shoulders relax. I'm nervous about going home with a strange man, but I figure if he owns a sex club, and presumably can have any of the unhinged kinky sex he wants right here every night for free, I'm not in danger.
Declan must have told Harrison the story because he's now looking at me with a mixture of pity and anger. I swallow thickly. I hate it. I hate his pity, but what choice do I have?
Suddenly, a hand slides across my shoulders, causing me to jump, before the feminine scent of citrus flowers envelopes me while Madame tucks me into her side.
"How's our little Serenity doing tonight?"
I stare at the floor in front of me.
The gentlemen don't answer, so I do. "Well, Madame. Thank you."
They all exchange glances, some sort of silent communication happening around me that makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
"Unfortunately, Mr. Volkov has just arrived. Just wanted to give you the head's up."
I notice Declan stiffen before he nods.
"I'll just..." I say, edging away from Madame. My attention is dragged to the front of the room where a tall man with salt and pepper hair cut in a military fashion just entered. He has a scar running down the length of his face, through his eye, and across his upper lip, giving him an almost permanent scowl. This man makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. His entire demeanor screams predator, dangerous.
He stands at the entrance and surveys the scene.
I watch in fascination as every voice in the room quiets and all eyes follow him. His lips tilt up in a grin. He knows everyone in the room is watching him. I have no idea what he's doing here. He seems far too intimidating for any woman or man to hook up with. He gives off vibes like he would be violent in bed.
I cringe as he walks through the room and takes a seat at one of the tables in my section. I grab my notebook and pencil from the bar.
I walk towards him to take his order, but a hand reaches out and wraps around my wrist. I look down and am surprised to see it's Declan.
"Watch yourself around him. He's dangerous."
"I see that," I say, tugging my wrist free. I stifle my annoyance. I am already terrified of this man. I don't need to be reminded. Clearly, he can't be that bad if they're allowing him to continue coming to the club, right? If he were violent or dangerous, they would have revoked his membership. Right?
I approach the stranger's table, eyes cast down. "Can I get you anything to drink, Mr. Volkov?" Mindy said using their names is always a good move because it makes them feel important and special. Which means they usually tip better. I didn't know anyone else's name, but I would learn them the longer I worked here.
The Russian doesn't reply. His steel-blue eyes leisurely walk their way up and down my body. Declan, Daniel and Harrison, all checked me out, but not like this. This feels intimate, and violating. I can feel my body start to shake.
"Sir?" I ask, my voice cracking. I finally raise my eyes to his, in hopes I can spur him into action.
"What is your name?" he asks, in a thick Russian accent.
"Serenity, sir."
"Your first night?"
"Yes, sir."
He nods. Satisfied with the answer. "Vodka tonic."
Before I can leave, he reaches out and ghosts a finger over the apex of my hip. He turns then, and it happens so fast that I almost convince myself it didn't actually happen.
Patrons aren't allowed to touch the staff, and the staff is not allowed to fraternize or take part in any of the... activities... here.
I turn and make a hasty retreat to give Ben the order.
He pours it quickly and I grab the vodka tonic from Ben and rush back to Volkov's table.
He doesn't make a move to drink it at all. Instead, he continues to stare, intimidating the hell out of me.
I clear my throat. "Will there be anything else, sir?" My voice is high and tight and I'm doing my best not to cry.
"No, Zaya. Not right now."
I should walk away. I should leave. I shouldn't engage this man. But I can't help myself. If I don't ask, it'll drive me crazy for the rest of the night, and I don't exactly have a phone to look it up myself.
"Zaya?" I ask, my voice small.
Blue eyes lock on mine. I get the feeling this guy doesn't like to be questioned. "Little rabbit."
I swallow the fear those two little words give me. I feel like a little rabbit, running scared.