7 RHEA
It’s Tuesday night and I’m staying busy, muscle memory taking over as I mix drinks with growing confidence. Julian's patient teaching this past weekend has paid off - I can now handle most orders without hesitation. Even Haven gives me approving nods when I nail the more complex cocktails.
I’m in the zone, pouring shots and mixing drinks like I’ve been doing this for years. The rhythm of the bar is infectious—laughter, clinking glasses, and the bass thumping in the background all blend into a melody that feels oddly satisfying.
“Rhea! You’ve got a fan club,” Haven smirks as she leans against the counter, wiping a glass with exaggerated flair.
“More like a bunch of desperate guys trying to impress me with their terrible pickup lines,” I reply, rolling my eyes while pouring a whiskey sour. “They’ll soon learn that I’m immune to charm.” A shift in the air makes me look up from garnishing a mojito.
Three men in expensive suits that can't quite hide their rough edges approach the bar. Something about them sets my teeth on edge. They move like predators, scanning the room with cold calculation.
"We need to see Corey," the one in front says, his voice gravelly.
Carla sashays over, tossing her red hair. "He's in his office gentleman. I'll page him for you."
"We know the way." The shortest one steps forward, but Carla blocks his path.
"That's not how it works here, sugar." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes.
"Listen sweetheart-" The man reaches for Carla's arm.
A shadow falls over us. Tobias materializes beside the bar, his presence immediately commanding attention. My skin prickles at the tension crackling through the air.
"The woman said she'll page him." Tobias's quiet voice carries more threat than a shout.
The suited men exchange glances. The leader's jaw clenches, but he steps back with a tight nod.
The office door opens and Corey emerges, his dark eyes scanning the room before landing on our little standoff. His face remains impassive, but something in his stance shifts. Without a word, he turns back toward his office. The suits follow, Tobias bringing up the rear like a massive shadow.
"Hey." I turn to Carla, who's aggressively sorting liquor bottles.
"What was that about?"
She whips around, red hair flying. "Listen here, new girl. You want to keep this job? Stop asking questions that aren't about drink orders." Her perfectly lined lips curl into a sneer. "Just do what you're supposed to do and serve drinks. The less you know, the better off you'll be."
The weight of unspoken words hangs heavy in the air. I open my mouth to argue, but a customer waves for service.
"Hey, can I get four shots of tequila?"
Pushing down my frustration, I grab the bottle and line up the glasses. Whatever's happening in that office, it's clear I'm not getting answers tonight.
I pour drinks on autopilot while keeping one eye on Corey's office door. The suited men's entrance has changed the entire vibe of the bar - even the regular customers seem to sense it, their laughter a touch too loud, their movements slightly too jerky.
Haven appears beside me, her shoulders tense. "You good?"
"Yeah, I-" The words die in my throat as Corey's office door bangs open.
The suits storm out, faces twisted with rage. Corey follows, his usual smooth demeanor replaced by something harder. His jacket shifts as he moves, revealing the grip of a gun at his hip. My hands freeze on the cocktail shaker.
"This isn't over," one of the suits snarls.
"It is for tonight." Julius, who has seemed to appear like a ghostly apparition says as his voice carries across the bar, quiet but firm.
Tobias looms behind them, and I catch the telltale bulge of a shoulder holster under his black shirt. The sight makes my stomach flip. I mean I know bars have bouncers and shit, but three of them with what seems like could be military grade weapons? A little far fetched.
My hands tremble as I wipe down the bar counter, mind racing.
What kind of shit did I walk into here? This can’t be some regular downtown bar - the guns, the suits, the tension thick enough to choke on. Everything I thought I knew about this place shifts like sand under my feet.
Corey's dark eyes catch mine across the room. There's something unreadable in his gaze - a warning maybe, or an apology. Before I can process it, he turns away, leading the men out the door.
"Hey, where's my martini?" A customer's impatient voice snaps me back to reality.
"Coming right up." I force my attention back to mixing drinks, but my mind races.
"First rule of bartending," Haven murmurs as she passes behind me. "Some things you see, some things you don't. Tonight falls into the second category."
I nod, but my hands shake slightly as I pour another drink. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?