Chapter Five
Nate
I stare at the pink coffee cup in my hands, the steam rising like smoke.
I have to tell myself that it’s not smoke, because I swear I can still smell it sometimes.
Lacey takes a seat across the table, her brown hair piled in a messy bun atop her head.
Her eyes are tired, and I can tell by the dark circles she didn’t get much sleep last night.
Not that I’m faring any better. I don’t think I’ve slept since that first night I came here, and that was over a week ago.
“Got anything fun planned today?” she asks far too cheerily for my liking.
I don’t know how she does it—how she manages to maintain such a positive attitude when she deals with so much fucked up shit.
Seriously, I’ve been here a damn week and the stories I’ve heard from her in that short time frame are crazy.
But I guess if you’re used to people calling 911 because they “slipped and fell while cleaning naked” and landed on top of something they most definitely shouldn’t have, I guess your threshold of crazy might be a little different from most people’s.
Still, sometimes I wish I could be that good at not letting shit affect me. But I digress.
“Same thing as yesterday,” I grumble, taking a sip of my coffee. “And the day before that.”
The sweet taste of cream makes my body relax, but only for a moment.
Not only have I had to deal with the loss of my childhood home, but I’ve been fighting back and forth with the insurance company about the claim for the fire that destroyed the house.
Technically, as the only living Barrett in Gram’s will, the house belongs to me, but I hadn’t signed the paperwork yet that makes it official.
Like I should have done, before I went to the house to take a fucking nap.
And every time I call the insurance company, my agent isn’t there, and I’m tired of explaining my situation repeatedly to new agents I never hear from or speak to again.
I don’t think all this runaround is helping matters.
It’s certainly not helping my sanity. Which is why I might need to make a stop at Riverside Insurance to see if I can talk to someone.
In person. Maybe then I’ll get some answers finally.
I didn’t think it would be so difficult to find a job in a city as big as Chicago.
I never finished college, but then again, I wasn’t really going for anything other than my general courses.
I didn’t know what I wanted to do, and I guess I still don’t.
But with how fucked up everything is right now, I doubt I’ll be able to go back anytime soon, anyway, so I guess it doesn’t matter.
I assumed I’d be able to get a job at the diner, or one of the many cafes or bakeries around here, but it doesn’t seem like any of them are hiring.
I set my cup down and continue to scroll Indeed, trying to find something that looks legit and won’t land me murdered in a back alley.
That’s when I see the post for a concierge at a nightclub that’s offering twenty-four bucks an hour.
My eyes widen because most of the places I did manage to get an application into were offering way less than that.
I don’t need a six-figure job—though that’d be great and probably a turn in the right direction—I just need a job. Period.
Something with tangible income so I can at the very least pay Lacey something for letting me stay here, like she is. She’s such a sweet girl, truly.
It’s only been a week, and we’re still sort of getting to know each other, but some people are easy to read. Lacey’s one of them.
She wears her heart on her sleeve and that sucker is made of gold. Twenty-four carat.
I don’t want to take advantage of her kindness; friend of my Gram’s or not. I also don’t want to get too comfortable here. With her.
Comfort leads to trust, and trust leads to letting your guard down, and that’s how people get hurt.
Because you never believe those people that comfort you are capable of hurting you. Not until the knife’s wedged halfway into your chest.
I push away all thoughts of Evan and his stockbroker beau because they’re the last thing I want to think about. I need to focus on finding a job and getting my shit together.
Er, get Grandma’s shit together, I guess.
“Hey,” I call out nonchalantly as I look up from my phone. Lacey takes a sip of her coffee.
“What’s up?”
“Where’s this, uh… Shadows & Sin?” I ask.
Lacey looks up from her Hello Kitty mug with a raised eyebrow.
“What? Why—”
I shoot her a curious glance. “They’re hiring.”
I clear my throat as I attempt to sound French. “For a… concierge,” I say as regally as I can to try to make it sound fancier than it probably is. I mean, it’s a host in a nightclub, it’s not exactly rocket science, right?
“Oh,” she says, her tone tinged with awe and surprise. She shakes her head, muttering something under her breath, but before I can ask her what she said, she smiles at me.
“How much?”
“Twenty-four.”
She raises both eyebrows at my answer, which makes me feel a sense of pride almost.
“”Wow, that’s—”
“Better than everywhere else I’ve looked into. Yeah, I know.”
She sets her mug down, twisting her lips as if she’s afraid to say something.
“What?” I ask with concern. “What is it? Is it owned by, like, the mob or something?”
She shakes her head. “No. It’s just…”
“Then what is it?” I press.
“It’s not your average nightclub,” she says carefully. “I mean it is a nightclub, but it’s… more than that, too.”
“What do you mean?” I narrow my gaze at her.
Her cheeks tint with blush as she looks at her coffee cup.
“It’s a… lifestyle club.”
It’s the way she says that word. Lifestyle. Like even saying it out loud takes courage or something. Which has me both equally intrigued and terrified.
“Okay…”
“People go there to… do… things.” Her cheeks redden even more.
“What kind of things, Lacey?” I ask, feeling strangely emboldened by her sudden shyness. It’s kind of cute, and makes me feel slightly better knowing she can get flustered.
Though her answer is not what I expect it to be.
“Kinky things,” she says, her voice almost a whisper.
It’s my turn to widen my eyes.
Kinky things? Now I really want to check this place out.
I don’t know much about that sort of thing, not personally, anyway.
But I’ve watched enough porn to know I like the idea of someone chasing me down, tying me up, and having their way with me.
Something about the idea of not being able to touch myself, being left at someone else’s complete mercy, being unable to control myself or my dick…
fuck that’s so hot. But I’ve never admitted that to anyone because I’m pretty sure they’d look at me like an alien or something because I know how fucked up it sounds.
“I’m just saying maybe you should check the place out first. Make sure you’re… comfortable with… the vibe.”
“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” I say thoughtfully as she relaxes. “Maybe I’ll check it out later tonight.”
She nods as her phone rings, breaking the awkward tension between us, and as she gets up to take the call, I decide that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
Tonight, I’m going to Shadows & Sin.