Chapter 9
Alex
“Not happening,” I answered, balancing my phone on my shoulder as I stirred Mum’s coffee.
“I’m not fucking going out tonight!” I hissed.
She went silent for a beat. “You’ve changed,” she said, her tone an exasperated yet playful whine.
I groaned. Yeah, I had. I didn’t want to risk fucking university up.
But she wasn’t wrong; we hadn’t been out in ages, and a Thursday night actually wasn't so terrible.
It was usually full of an older crowd, and the vibes were always good at Carlos—the only bar we ever went to outside of work.
It was a little more high-class than The Dam or Amor; we wouldn't be caught dead in either of those unless we were on the clock.
“I need you as my wingwoman,” Mia pleaded.
Ah, right. There was the catch. I groaned. “Wingwoman?”
“Adrian wanted to go out,” Mia explained quickly. “He’s got a friend staying with him, so he asked if I could bring a friend too.”
Adrian. The guy from the bar she went home with. According to Mia, he’d blown her fucking mind enough to warrant regular dates. Honestly, I was happy for her; he was older and didn't treat her like an object or a piece of arse, so I could get on board with it.
“You want me to go on a fucking date with some dude?” I asked, trying not to gag.
“No!” Mia said quickly. “Just as a buffer. I don’t want to be outnumbered.”
I sighed. Yeah, okay, I didn’t want her to be outnumbered either.
Then she added, her voice brightening up, “Plus, it's your birthday tomorrow! Since we’re both working the actual day, this could be like a birthday thing tonight!”
She tried to pitch it cheerfully, even though she knew damn well I didn't celebrate my birthday.
"I am not paying for a single drink," I said flatly.
She practically squealed down the line. “Deal! Thank you, I love you! I’m going to call Adrian—we'll pick you up at nine!”
“I hate you,” I said bluntly.
“Nope, you love me with your entire heart.” She blew a kiss through the phone and hung up.
Great. I picked up Mum's coffee, walked into the living room, and handed it to her gently.
"Was that Mia?" she asked with a smile.
“Yeah.” I rolled my eyes playfully. “She’s dragging me out tonight.”
“That sounds great, darl,” my Dad chimed in from his armchair. “You have been working hard. Go out and enjoy yourself.”
I shrugged. “I guess. She's seeing some guy, and we're meeting up with his friend too.”
“Going to Carlos?” Mum asked, blowing gently on her coffee.
“Yeah.”
“Well, at least I know you’ll be safe there,” she said softly, turning her attention back to the TV.
She wasn’t wrong. We knew the staff and security there pretty well. It was the only place Mia and I went, mostly because when you work in nightlife yourself, you share a sick, mutual understanding of how awful the job is. The industry staff always looked out for one another.
“Do you need a lift?” Dad asked kindly.
“No thanks, Mia’s guy is picking us up.”
I stretched my arms over my head and checked my watch. I needed to shower and start getting ready. Groaning, I headed upstairs to prepare for a night out I had absolutely no desire to go on.
When Adrian pulled up, I was relieved to see a large, sensible Volvo. Given the guys Mia usually dated, I’d fully expected some flashy, dickhead BMW. This instantly made him better in my eyes—not a pretentious prick.
Mia cracked the front passenger door open and let out a loud wolf whistle. I struck a mock model pose on the pavement. I had actually put effort into my appearance, so I was going to milk the validation.
“Someone is getting laid tonight!” she whooped, opening the back door for me and giving my arse a firm slap as I climbed in.
“I fucking hope so,” I muttered, settling into the leather seat.
I’d opted for my leather trousers—tight enough to show off my curves, but flexible enough that I could actually move.
I’d paired them with a plain black bralette, layered under a sheer, laced long-sleeve top.
My legs looked banging, and my chest—even I was staring at it in the mirror before I left.
I’d done my makeup properly for once, creating a dark, smoky eye that made my blue eyes look icy, rounded off with a dark red lipstick and a few loose curls in my hair.
Okay, maybe Mia was right. I needed this.
I hadn’t actively tried to look this good in months.
Adrian pulled away from the kerb, catching my eye in the rearview mirror. "You look good, Alex. I'm glad you could make it tonight.”
I blinked at him, holding back a laugh when I caught Mia’s eyes in the vanity mirror. The guy sounded incredibly posh. I smiled politely. “You're welcome, Adrian. I just hope your friend knows he hasn't got a chance.”
Adrian chuckled. “He’s a nice guy.”
That’s not a fucking no, Adrian. I shot a lethal glare at the back of Mia’s head, and she just shrugged apologetically. I was going to murder her.
To instantly bribe her way back into my good graces, she reached between the seats and passed me a bottle of water.
I twisted the cap, took a swig, and nearly choked.
It was most definitely not water. Judging by the harsh, medicinal bite, it was a ridiculously strong vodka soda.
Since I hadn’t had any pre-drinks while getting ready, I decided she wasn't getting the bottle back.
Mia just laughed as I purposefully downed half of it while glaring at her in the mirror.
When we walked into Carlos, it was subdued but thankfully far from dead.
Adrian placed a gentle, protective hand on Mia’s back as we navigated toward the bar.
They actually looked pretty cute together.
He easily towered over her, which meant with me trailing behind them, I looked like their tag-along child.
As we reached the bar counter, the bartender—a guy with a shaved head and heavy tattoos covering his forearms—grinned broadly. “What the fuck are you two doing on this side of the bar?”
“Anthony, good to see you,” I said, throwing him a wink.
Mia chuckled, leaning against the wood. “It's someone's birthday tomorrow.” She threw an arm around my neck and planted a loud, exaggerated kiss on my cheek.
I tensed. Dead woman. By the end of this night, I was going to be an only child in the friend department.
I glared at her, rubbing my cheek. “You just left lipstick on me, didn't you?”
She winked, completely unbothered, and turned back to the bartender. “Large glass of red, a pint of Moretti, and a rum and coke, please, handsome.”
Anthony saluted and set to work. Before the drinks even landed, Adrian turned around to greet a man walking up from the lounge area.
The friend wasn't as tall as Adrian. He had curly black hair and a slimy, over-eager grin that immediately made my stomach twist in distaste.
He approached our group, his eyes scanning over Mia and then lingering heavily on my chest with that exact same stupid smirk.
I instantly wanted to throat-punch him. I shot a look at Mia—yep, she was going to the top of my hit list. She at least had the decency to look slightly guilty.
The guy offered his hand, and we exchanged a brief, tight handshake. “I’m Ali,” he introduced himself, his voice dripping with fake charm. “You must be Mia and Alex.”
Mia forced her best, sparkling customer-service smile. “Nice to meet you.”
Adrian stepped in, wrapping an arm around Mia’s waist as if subtly claiming her, and I couldn't blame him. We turned back to the bar as Ali ordered a cider. A bit juvenile for a place like this, but whatever.
Anthony slid my rum and coke across the sticky counter, throwing me a look that clearly asked: Why the hell are you standing with a man?
I merely closed my eyes in exhausted solidarity, hoping he'd attend Mia’s upcoming funeral. Anthony smirked, sliding a damp bar cloth across the counter. I mouthed a silent thank you, using the reflective chrome of the beer taps to scrub Mia’s red lipstick off my cheek.
“Nice to meet you, Ali,” I lied politely, spinning on my heel. I tossed the dirty wipe back to Anthony, entirely grateful he was on shift tonight, and headed toward the back of the venue.
“Let’s grab a booth over here,” Adrian called out, guiding Mia through the scattering of early-evening drinkers.
The booth was tucked deep into a corner—cozy, dark, and relatively private.
I slid onto the leather bench first, planting my drink down and effectively forcing Ali to take the seat opposite Mia.
It put a reassuring amount of table distance between us.
Mia and Adrian naturally gravitated into their own bubble, their legs already tangled beneath the wood.
As the night rolled on, Carlos began to fill out.
The ambient chatter grew into a loud roar, and the lighting dimmed, shifting from a warm amber to pulsing blues and reds.
The dance floor finally started to pick up, and fuck, I loved the music here.
At The Dam, it was just a relentless, monotonous electronic beat; here, they played actual music people could sing and dance to.
Because the crowd skewed a bit older, it was a perfect mix of 80s hits and early 2010s power ballads.
The nostalgia in the room was infectious.
I sipped my rum, trying to get into the groove, but I had a mission. I kept my interaction with Ali to an absolute minimum, though he was relentlessly trying to spark up a tedious conversation.
“So, what’s your course like? Business Management, right?” he asked, leaning over the table, flashing that arrogant grin.
“Dense,” I answered flatly, keeping my eyes fixed on a woman in a killer jumpsuit laughing at the bar.
“Right, right. So, like... numbers and stuff?”
I narrowed my eyes at him, the sarcasm dripping from my voice. “Yes, Ali. Numbers and stuff.”