Chapter 4 #2
As she was leaving yesterday morning, I caught a glimpse of her workers badge clipped to the front pocket of her scrub top and it read Orchid Street Family Medicine.
I waited long enough to talk to her, and what better way than to be her patient.
Plus, she is adorable as hell when she is nervous, and the thought of being the one to unravel her like that again has been in the back of my mind all damn day.
I could tell she didn’t believe my lie about boxing. But if I told her the truth, she would probably think I was insane.
Some lowlife who looked like he hadn’t showered in days, decided he wanted to get handsy with one of our servers last night.
Without hesitation, I jumped over the counter and grabbed the fucker, spun him around and swung.
My right fist found the left side of his face with lightning speed and knocked him down to the ground.
Sydney’s high-pitched scream filled the air and shards of glass scattered across the dance floor from the glasses she was carrying on her tray. The music barely drowned out his pained groans coming from behind his hands as he writhed on the floor.
“Get the fuck up and walk your ass out the door, or I will do it for you!” I shouted over the music.
The man spits blood onto the floor. “The bitch was asking for it.” He wipes the corner of his mouth.
“She’s been a fucking tease all night.” Rage surges through my body as I grab the front of his shirt to pick his ass up off the ground.
Before I can get another hit in, I feel another set of hands pulling me back.
Devon, head of our security, pulls me back and escorts the guy out of the club.
Lucky bastard. I was ready to beat his face unrecognizable.
The girls who work here know that flirting and male attention is going to happen. They will put on the charm, because they live off their tips, and they know what men like. But that doesn’t mean they have to put up with harassment.
There are lines that are not meant to be crossed, and unfortunately, they are crossed more often than not.
Cole named the club Sanctuary for a reason. Each and every one of the waitresses and dancers that work here have all been victims of sex trafficking and the dark corners of the world at some point in their life. He works every day to bring down the rings, with the club being his cover.
When he finds the girls, he takes the willing ones in and will do what he can to help them rebuild their lives. Starting with the opportunity to work at the club.
I know it seems counter productive, but most of the women work here just long enough to get on their feet and then move on.
He gives them the chance to take control over their lives, something they have never experienced before.
Most of them leave feeling empowered. Ready to move on from the trauma they have lived through.
If they choose not to work here, he makes sure that they are safe and well off for the rest of their lives. Between him and Theo, they can more than afford to do so.
Cole is only three years older than I am, but even he scares the shit out of me sometimes.
We met when we got placed in the same foster home when we were thirteen and have been family ever since.
I once watched him stab one of the many foster fathers in the hand for touching one of the girls in the house inappropriately.
I finish wiping down the counter and put my rag in my back pocket when one of the other waitresses, Savannah, walks up to the counter.
She folds her arm across the counter and leans over so her breasts are pushed out and bursting from her low-cut halter top.
Her booty shorts hide nothing as she sticks her ass out more than necessary.
She looks up at me with feigned innocence and wraps a piece of her hair around her finger while smacking her gum. I place my hands on the bar and sigh. She’s one of our newer waitresses, and one of my least favorite.
Ever since she started working here, she has made it clear that she wants to fuck. To the average male, she would be a perfect ten. Wildly attractive and an easy lay. But I’m not into fake breasts and fake blondes.
Besides the point of the way she looks, her personality is awful. She lays it on too thick, and when I turn her away, she pouts and sulks the entire night. Like a damn child.
Unlike Serena.
She doesn’t flirt or chase. If it weren’t for the fact that she was so easy to read, I would think she wasn’t interested in me at all. But the mystery of her? The parts of her that she keeps hidden? Those make me want her even more.
“I heard what you did for Sydney last night. That is so hot .” I cringe internally when her gum smacks again.
“It was nothing.” I keep my focus on the bar top and drag the wet rag in front of me.
“It was definitely not nothing.” She takes her left hand and softly traces circles on the top of my bruises. “And your poor hand. You know… if you need a nurse, I can take care of you.” She peers up at me from beneath her lashes and pulls her lips into a suggestive smile.
“Nah I’m good.” I move my hand away and start putting out garnishes I’ll need later. “Besides, I already got it looked at earlier.”
“Oh come on Isaac.” She whines. “You’ll find I have a very tender touch.”
“No Savannah.” My voice is firm and commanding.
It gets dark in the building, and the fluorescent lights are replaced with the colored flood lights, letting us know its opening time. “You should probably finish getting ready before the crowd picks up and you’re left scrambling, again.”
Grabbing a wine glass from behind me, I polish it a little longer than necessary, hoping she gets the hint.
Savannah lets out a frustrated sigh and scowls at me before she turns around and walks toward the locker room to finish getting ready for her shift. Fucking finally. I can’t fucking stand her.
It is going to be a long night, and an even longer weekend. And I’m suddenly craving coffee.