"Um, Roxanne? What about a uniform?”
She looked up from her phone with irritation. "Roxy. Only Antonio calls me Roxanne. And wear something black.”
I pressed my lips together and turned back around, almost running into Terry as he carried a stack of stools across the room.
"See you later, Lily," he grunted from behind the stools before popping his head out to the side of it. He had overheard the news of my new job.
"So, you do remember me," I half smiled.
"I remember everyone," he said proudly before continuing across the room. At least he would make working at The Den more enjoyable with his calm and happy attitude. Everyone else here either had ulterior motives or generally didn't want me here.
I stepped outside into the warm, late afternoon sun, taking a couple of long deep breaths as I compartmentalized everything and came to terms with a new job. Came to terms with working for someone who ran an illegal fight club in the basement of his nightclub.
I sucked in another breath and pressed a hand to my stomach, settling myself enough to start walking a little way along the sidewalk and focusing on booking a ride home. Several minutes passed as I waited beside the alleyway before the front door of The Den swung open again.
Dean stepped out onto the sidewalk, almost knocking over a rushing businessman in the process.
“Watch where you’re going, asshole,” the man spat.
Dean took no notice of him as he glanced left and right, and then spotted me. His eyebrows remained unchanged from his last frown as he started in my direction, scanning the street casually. As if looking away would soften the blow of his glare before it returned to me.
My hands had found their way to the strap of my bag again, where they clutched it tightly.
His black sneakers scuffed the pavement when he stopped beside me.
“Go back inside and tell Roxy you can’t take the gig.” His voice was soft but harsh as he gestured to the building. The Brooklyn accent was stronger when he was frustrated.
“Excuse me—”
“You don’t belong here.”
I already knew I didn’t belong, but his words still stung like a slap to the face. “Thanks,” I murmured.
He sighed and shifted into a slightly calmer demeanor, although still annoyed. “You’re too…clean. It’s not a place someone like you should be.”
I gaped a little. “I agreed to start tonight.”
"So go back in and say you've changed your mind."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because…" My shoulders had risen to my ears in a long shrug. I've already said yes and don't want to look like a complete idiot changing my mind.
Dean ducked his head to make eye contact with me again. "Because?"
"I need the money," I lied, knowing very well being employed by Mom paid me so much more than a waitressing position. I just didn't want to admit to him I couldn't say no. "Why do you care so much anyway?"
He hesitated and straightened. “You don’t wanna get involved with someone like Antonio...”
I knew that already. The guy was into illegal gambling. “I’ll only be behind the bar.”
"You’re an outsider who has seen what happens in the basement—” He stopped when a dog walker passed us, giving them a curt nod before continuing once they were out of earshot, standing slightly closer as he spoke quietly. Near rambling, he looked me dead in the eyes. I felt like a mouse trapped under his attention. "You brought me into your home when you should've left me on the street, and you returned my phone— You should’ve tossed it. Then you spoke to a fuckin’ mob boss like it was nothing..." He trailed off as realization settled across his features. "He's not hiring you coz he needs the position filled."
I blinked, wondering if I had heard him correctly. My voice sounded distant when I finally spoke again. “M-mob boss?”
I prayed I had heard him wrong, but everything I witnessed was very quickly making sense. And now there was a high-pitched whining in my ears, cutting out the sound of the city until Dean snapped his fingers in front of my face.
