9 RHEA
T he mop sloshes across the floor as I work out the last sticky spots from tonight's Friday night rush.
It’s been a fairly quiet week. No big bad armed business men wreaking havoc.
Just a bitter ex boyfriend of Carla’s causing a scene, and a couple of handsy drunks here and there. Nothing I haven’t been able to handle.
My muscles ache, but it's a good kind of tired. The kind that comes from keeping up with drink orders and managing to not drop a single glass. Progress.
I’m just about to rinse my bucket, and call it a night when the back door crashes open. My heart leaps into my throat as Corey and Tobias stumble in, supporting a limp figure between them. Red hair spills over Tobias's massive forearm. Carla.
"Jesus Christ!" The mop clatters to the floor. "What the fuck happened? Was she mugged?"
The men looked between each other, almost daring the other to say something.
"Yeah, we'll go with that." Tobias shifts Carla's weight, her red hair matted against his black shirt.
"Toni, take her upstairs," Corey orders, running a hand over his shaved head. His usually pristine appearance is disheveled - shirt untucked, a smear of something dark on his sleeve.
Tobias disappears up the steps with a limp Carla. The click of the lock echoes in the empty bar.
My hands shake as I grab paper towels from behind the bar.
"Should I call an ambulance?"
"No!" Corey's sharp tone makes me jump. He paces, his expensive shoes squeaking against the freshly mopped floor. His composure cracks - something I've never seen before. "Sorry, I didn't mean to raise my voice, just no. We… She doesn't have… insurance."
“Seriously? Then let me call the cops. I’m sure they can catch whoever…” He smacks his palm on the table top. “No damnit.” Any other woman would cower at his tone, but fuck that. It’s been well estblished I’m not your typical woman.
I might be playing with fire, but I approach him slowly, like you would a spooked animal. "What's really going on here?”
“Carla is hurt obviously.” He says, shuffling.
“No shit Sherlock, but how? Because that wasn't a mugging."
Corey's dark eyes narrow. "What makes you think that?"
"Oh come on." I cross my arms, my bangles jingling against each other.
"Give me a little credit here. The suit crowd doesn't exactly scream 'neighborhood dive bar.' Then there's the steady stream of sketchy guys asking for private meetings with you. And don't even get me started on the ones packing heat."
His jaw tightens. "You noticed that?"
"Hard not to when they're practically flashing them around like membership cards." I step closer, lowering my voice. "Plus, I've seen you guys 'escort' people out back. Whatever's going on here, it isn't just slinging drinks and breaking up bar fights."
The overhead lights cast harsh shadows across his face as he studies me. His fingers drum against the bar top - an expensive watch catching the light with each movement.
"You're more observant than I gave you credit for."
"Yeah, well, contrary to what Carla might think, I'm not just here to look pretty and pour shots." The paper towels crumple in my grip.
"So what's the deal? Because right now, my imagination is running wild with possibilities, and none of them are particularly legal."
His lips quirk up at one corner. "Careful what you ask for, Rhea.
Some questions are better left unanswered."
"Really? That's what you're going with? The cryptic warning?" I toss the paper towels aside. "Because that's not suspicious at all."
He stops pacing, dark eyes meeting mine. The overhead lights cast shadows across his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw.
"Can you keep a secret?"
"Depends on the secret."
"Rhea." My name comes out as half-warning, half-plea.
I cross my arms. "Try me."
"Not now. But I promise I'll explain everything later." He straightens his shirt, some of his usual control returning. "Just... trust me on this."
The metallic scent of blood lingers in the air, mixing with stale beer and bleach.
“I need a favor Rhea… and I’m not a man who enjoys asking for help. But I could really use yours right now.” My stomach drops. "I’ll consider it. As long as it's not illegal."
Corey's lips quirk up at the corners, but his eyes remain serious.
"Can't promise that."
The blood drains from my face. "You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?"
"Listen." He leans against the bar, his black shirt stretching across his shoulders. "I need someone I can trust for a private event we're hosting downstairs. Double your usual pay."
"Downstairs?" I glance at the floor. "There's a downstairs?"
"Behind my office." He drums his fingers on the bar top. "You've proven yourself capable, level-headed. Even when drinks are flying at your face."
His jaw tightens. "So what do you say?"
The smart answer would be no. The responsible answer would be no. But my bank account is screaming yes, and curiosity is eating me alive. "What kind of event are we talking about?"
"The kind where you serve drinks and don't ask questions."
I snort. "That's not suspicious at all."
"Take it or leave it." He straightens up, adjusting his expensive watch. "But I need an answer now."
My rent's due next week, and my car needs new brake pads.
Plus, whatever's going on here, Tobias is involved. He wouldn't let anything too sketchy happen... right?
"Double pay?" I confirm.
"Cash."
I blow out a breath. "Fine. But if I see anything too crazy, I'm out."
"Deal." He extends his hand. “As long as you agree to not speak a word of what you see.”
“Jesus Fuck, this isn’t some black market organ dealings is it?” He laughs, still holding out his hand. “You have a vivid imagination Rhea, I should expect if from someone so invested in witchcraft and wizardry.”
“Do not fucking bring up my literature choices, or I’ll be forced to bring up your choices in company you keep.”
“Touche.” He responds, flailing his hand. “Are you in or out Rhea?” I shake it, trying to ignore how warm his palm feels against mine.
"This better not be some Eyes Wide Shut shit."
His laugh echoes through the empty bar. "Nothing that fancy, I promise."
I glance between Corey and the staircase where Carla and Tobias disappeared. My heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to escape. "I guess..."
"Follow me." Corey moves toward his office, each step precise despite his earlier dishevelment.
The familiar scent of leather and cologne hits me as we enter his office. The space feels different now - darker, loaded with secrets I'm not sure I want to know. He opens the coat closet, revealing a long hallway.
"You're kidding me." I take a step back. "Secret underground rooms? What is this, Prohibition?"
"Something like that." He pulls the heavy door open. Light spills up from below, along with the distant thrum of music. "Ladies first."
"Oh, hell no." I plant my feet. "You go first. I've seen enough horror movies to know better."
A ghost of a smile crosses his face. "Fair enough." He starts down the metal stairs, his shoes creating hollow echoes. "Coming?"
I follow, gripping the railing. The stairwell opens into a hallway that looks nothing like I expected - clean concrete floors, modern lighting, air conditioning humming softly overhead.
"Not exactly the dungeon I was picturing," I mutter.
"Disappointed?"
"Relieved, actually. Though I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop."
He leads me past several closed doors. The bass gets louder with each step, vibrating through the soles of my boots. My skin prickles with anticipation - or maybe fear. At this point, I'm not sure which.
"Just remember," Corey says, pausing at a heavy black door. "No questions."