Chapter 6 Melanie
MELANIE
He was doing it on purpose. I knew it—felt it in my gut.
He wanted to break me down, humiliate me.
Like trailing behind a waitress for one night would somehow teach me how to survive in this chaos.
The urge to walk out of here was burning hot in my chest, but my stepdad’s text from last night still buzzed like a hornet in the back of my brain, stinging every time I thought about it.
You know your mother and I love you very much. She thinks I spoil you, but I do it out of love. I only said I wouldn’t pay for your college out of anger. You didn’t have to leave the way you did. But now that you have, don’t expect us to come running.
Love.
I scoffed under my breath just thinking about that word.
That filthy, manipulative word. People throw it around like candy, but it’s a weapon.
A leash. A noose dressed in silk. Love blinds you.
Weakens you. Makes you believe monsters are just misunderstood.
No one wants to see the rot under the surface when they’re in love.
That’s why people stay—why they get hurt.
Love is for fools. I wasn’t going to be a fool anymore.
Nick flicked his hand at me from across the room, snapping me out of my spiral.
I followed him, trying to match his pace.
But his strides were too long, too determined—like he was walking through fire and couldn’t be bothered to see who he burned on the way.
He shoved open a door labeled “EMPLOYEES ONLY,” and I barely stopped myself from crashing into his chest as I stumbled in behind him.
He didn’t even look at me when he said it—just flung the words over his shoulder like knives.
“Tell me, princess, what are you doing here? Hanging out with trash just to piss off daddy?”
I blinked. “What?” The words hit like ice water, dripping slowly, then freezing all at once. Where the hell was this coming from?
“If you do a half-ass job, you’re out. And I won’t lose sleep over it. You can always run home to your privileged life.”
His words hit me like a slap. No—worse. Like being gutted in front of someone who thinks you’re too spoiled to bleed.
“I need this job,” I said through clenched teeth. “More than you think.”
He laughed, bitter and sharp. “You? You need this?” He waved a hand toward the kitchen. “This isn’t some weekend gig at a yoga studio, sweetheart. This is where people hustle to survive. To feed kids. Pay rent. You think walking in here with your designer jeans and pouty lips means something?”
“If you think I’m useless, why hire me?” I snapped.
“I told you,” he said, voice flat. “I’m doing a favor.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Bullshit. How do I know you didn’t just hire me so you could stare at me all day… or torture me?”
A slow, guttural laugh escaped him—dark and full of something dangerous. It slithered into the room like smoke.
“Trust me, princess,” he said, stepping in so close I could feel his heat press against my skin, “if I wanted to torture that ass, I wouldn’t need to hire you to do it.”
My breath caught. His scent—woodsy, rich, masculine—wrapped around me like sin. I hated that it made something flutter low in my belly. Hated that it made my knees weak and my heart stutter.
“I’d bend you over that desk,” he whispered, voice like velvet over broken glass. “Have you screaming my name, begging me to stop while I spanked that pretty ass—then fucked it. That’s how I’d torture you.”
I clenched my thighs, my jaw, my everything—rage and something darkly delicious coiling inside me. I should have been disgusted. But I wasn’t. I was lit on fire.
“You don’t scare me, Nick,” I forced out.
He smiled, slow and wicked. “That’s too bad. Because I should.” His eyes didn’t waver, didn’t blink. Just burned through me. “Now—” he tossed an apron at me, “—put this on, show me what you’ve got, and try not to piss off my customers.”
Then he turned, walking away like I hadn’t just fallen apart and stitched myself back together in front of him.
I tied the apron around my waist, fingers trembling with fury.
Screw him. I wasn’t going to be the girl everyone expected to fail.
Not this time. Not again. Even my mother expected me to fall flat on my face.
But not today.
I stormed out to the main floor just as a new table was seated. I pulled my shoulders back and pasted on my most practiced smile. I may not know how to survive in this world yet, but if there was one thing I was born to do, it was to act.
“Evening. How are you two doing tonight?” I drop the menus onto the table with a smile that’s about as sturdy as a house of cards in a hurricane.
“We’re doing great,” the older man replies, cheerful and oblivious. “And how are you?”
“I’m alive,” I mutter.
They laugh. Of course, they laugh. Everyone always laughs at pain when it’s dressed up like a punchline.
“That’s always a plus. You new here? Don’t think we’ve seen you before,” the man adds, his white hair slicked back with the kind of ease that comes from not giving a damn.
I clear my throat, caught off guard. People don’t usually notice me, not like that. Not in L.A., where no one has time to look up from their misery.“Yeah. First day.”
“Oh, don’t mind him,” the woman cuts in. “We’re just regulars. Come twice a week. We would’ve remembered seeing a pretty girl like you.”
Was that a compliment? Or the start of something worse? I can’t tell, but their smiles don’t feel dangerous, just… warm. Which almost makes it harder to handle.
“Thanks,” I say, forcing a grin. “I’ll do my best not to fuck up your order.” My mouth betrays me, and I want to rewind time the second the word flies out.
Heat floods my cheeks. “I mean—mess. Mess up. Sorry.”
The woman laughs. “No worries, George curses too when he gets nervous.”
My shoulders loosen a fraction. Okay. Maybe this won’t be a total disaster.
“Can I start you off with some drinks?”
“Two glasses of Chardonnay,” George says.
“It’s our anniversary.”
“Really? That’s beautiful. How long have you been married?”
“Fifty years,” he says, gripping his wife’s hands. “Fifty glorious years.”
I blink. “Wow. That’s… that’s something to celebrate.” But as they gaze into each other’s eyes, something sharp twists in my gut. Like I’m watching a movie I’ll never be cast in. I mumble something about getting their drinks and flee.
“Can I get two glasses of Chardonnay?"I asked the bartender. When she turned around, it was the military girl from the dinner the other night—the one who sat by Nick.
“Well, well. Look who crawled out of daddy’s wallet.” She says.
Fucking great, just when i thought i was going to like this job this bitch has to ruin it. “I didn’t ask for commentary. I asked for wine.”
She leans on the counter. “No can do, Barbie.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Boss's orders.”
Before I can snap back, I feel it—a hand at my lower back. Warm. Heavy. Male. Nick.
“You can’t serve alcohol until your liquor license comes in.” he says, voice like gravel and gasoline.
“No one told me that.” I hiss
“I did tell you that. And common sense, but then again, common sense isn’t always so common.” His words sting, sharp as broken glass.
Alexa laughs like he just delivered the line of the year.
“Alexa,” Nick growls, then turns to face me. “It's not a big deal, I’ll run the drinks or Alexa can if she isn’t busy.”
I hear her start to say something, but Nick holds up a hand. “We are a team, just like how they taught us in the military, ain’t that right, Alexa?"
“Yes, sir,” she says through pursed lips.
“How am I supposed to get my license, and how long will it take?
“You can apply online, but you’ll need a credit card to pay a fee.”
“I don’t have one.”
“You don’t have a credit card?” Alexa's eyes widen as she pauses on the glass cup she was cleaning.
I lie. “I do, but…never mind.”I shake the thought away.. “I’ll figure it out.”
“You sure? Or did Mommy and Daddy finally cut you off after finding out their princess was a—”
“That’s enough,” Nick snaps, and Alexa wilts. Her humiliation is almost satisfying. Almost. But nothing takes the sting out of her words. Not even Nick’s defense.
He looks at me, tone colder now.”You’ve got another table to hit, then take that anniversary couple’s order. They’re big spenders. If you want a paycheck, you better earn it, Princess.”
He grabs the two glasses of wine, turns on his heels, and walks back to my table.
Alexa leans in, venom dripping from her voice.
“The good news is that if this doesn’t work out, there’s always that bar downtown.
I hear the owner hires his servers on the spot if they get down on all knees, and he even pays them a little extra on the side, so that may be more up your alley.
” Her grin spreads wide from cheek to cheek and it takes everything in me not to jump over this counter and punch that bitch right in the throat.
“I get it—you hate me because I’m prettier. And richer. But don’t blame me for your face. Blame your parents. Honestly, it should be illegal for ugly people to reproduce.”
Her smirk fades. Good.
I smile my biggest fake smile and walk off. If Alexa wanted to play with fire, then let's turn up the heat.
It was almost one in the morning, and my feet ached and my lower back throbbed.
I was in the back now helping wash the dishes.
Nick got flustered with me after I messed up two tables’ orders in a row.
I wouldn’t even say mess up, I just didn’t bring the appetizers out before the meal.
The man acted as if anything was out of order, we would all die.
And just when I thought he had a sliver of hope of being nice after offering to pay for my liquor license tonight, he acts like a complete asshole again.
I don’t know why I haven't taken my apron off and stormed out of here. Everyone was right; I didn’t need this job.
I could leave if I wanted to, but what they don’t know is the price I would have to pay.
No one knows the price I have paid for that lavish life I've been living. It would be a long shot of anyone believing me even if I did tell someone. Men with money have power, and most people with authority abuse that power for their own benefit. Hell, I wasn’t sure if I was going to get paid tonight by the way Nick was acting.
He hasn’t even acknowledged my prescience, like I'm invisible after two mistakes. The other waitress told me tonight that Nick does this as part of his hiring process. She said he’ll throw you to the wolves and see if you sink or swim since he has been trained to be a survivor for years in the military.
A tear trickles down my cheek as I feel the walls caving in on me. I wish I had my mom back. The one that cared and acted like it was just me and her against the world. The one who didn’t get all wrapped up in money and fame.
Gosh, I could use a drink right about now so I didn't have to think about any of this, but I can't even get any alcohol without money. Another tear falls and I angrily brush it away.
A thud noise causes me to jump and when I look up it’s Nick storming through the double doors.
“You can head home, Mario is going to finish the rest of the dishes and mop the floors.” I dry my hands off on the apron and push the volcano that's boiling inside me all the way down.
“Is there anything else I can help you with before I go, sir?” I say in such a sugary sweet tone my teeth ached. I clenched down on my teeth so hard I felt like I might crack a tooth.
“No,” he says in a low, rumbling voice.
I start to walk off and the moment I'm about to pass him he stops me with a white envelope in his hand. “Here’s your cut from tonight.”
I slowly reach for the envelope and when I look inside there's a wad of cash, tens and twenties and a couple a crisp hundred dollar bill . There had to be three hundred dollars in cash in here. A sense of pride flutters in my chest when I know I’m the one who earned this money.
All on my own, with my sweat and tears, literally.
I look up at him in disbelief. “I didn’t think I was going to get paid tonight.”
“Everyone gets paid. The waitresses, bartenders and cooks get a cut from all the tips. That’s how it works around here. We are a team, a unit. Can’t survive without the other. Now go home and get some rest.”
Maybe this would work, maybe there is hope. I never knew what true hope felt like until now, and it felt fucking freeing.