Verity
"Can you serve thatstronzo?" I had to strain to hear Lily over the swell of noise in the bar. "He gives me the creeps." When I looked up, a tattooed guy in a leather jacket sat staring at us. From the expensive gold watch on his wrist, he wasn’t here to take advantage of ‘Happy Hour’.
Lorenzo's mostly catered to underpaid office workers and the student crowd. Cheap beer and even cheaper wine appealed to people short of cash and willing to overlook the poor quality of the alcohol.
What Lorenzo's lacked in award-winning wine it more than made up for in ambiance. But it was mid-week, and we were in the middle of a lull, so the creepy guy stood out.
I shoved a bowl of lemons at Lily. "Here, finish slicing these while I take his order."
The man gave me the creeps, too, but Lily was younger than me, so I felt protective toward her.
"Beer or wine?" His smile lacked any hint of warmth, which made the hairs on my arms stand proud. My gaze snagged on the neck tattoo peeking out from his shirt collar - a black scorpion.
"What do you recommend?" I couldn't place his accent. Even though he spoke flawless Italian, he wasn’t a Neapolitan native.
"The house wine tastes like vinegar, so I recommend sticking to bottled beer." If he left us a one-star review on Trip Adviser, I gave no shits.
He nodded, apparently satisfied with my recommendation. "A bottle of Peroni."
I pulled a bottle from the fridge, uncapped it, and passed it over the bar. When he handed me a 20 Euro note, he made sure his fingers brushed mine. A shiver of distaste ran through me, but I hid it behind a fake smile.
Aside from neck tattoo, he seemed like a regular guy. Late 30s/early 40s, at a guess, with callused hands and a trim body. More criminal than accountant, although I couldn't see any obvious weapons bulging on his person.
When I tried to hand him his change, something about the man made me want to step away and never look back.
"Keep the change. Consider it a tip."
I thanked him with another fake smile and hurried down the bar, eager to put some distance between us. A few moments later, a crowd of laughing students walked in, and for the next twenty minutes, Lily and I worked flat out. By the time I looked up again, the man had gone.
Midnight soon arrived. A backing tape of dance music and chatter pulsed around me, making my head pound.
I longed for my bed. Exhaustion had slammed me hard around 11 PM. This was the sixth late shift I'd worked in as many days. I wouldn't normally do so many without a break, but work was a useful distraction from my shitty life.
Thea had been making concerned noises about my mental health. She'd quietly suggested I see a counselor the last time we spoke, around a fortnight ago. Because I didn't want to look my demons in the eye, I'd deflected and avoided her calls and messages ever since.
My sister didn't understand. Her life and mine were poles apart, even though we had been through many of the same traumatic events as children. The only difference in our lived experiences was our father had chosen her over me, honed her into his weapon while locking me away in the attic like a box of old photos.
I knew Thea had dealt with a ton of abuse to protect me, but part of me wished she hadn't. Maybe then I wouldn't feel so guilty every day.
But, as I tried to remind myself, she now had the life she'd always dreamed of. And I… well, I had no life at all.
"Anton's here." I looked up from preparing a pitcher of cheap wine for a group of young women to see my sort-of boyfriend pushing his way through the remaining customers.
"I thought you were having an early night," he gritted out with a scowl when I finally had the chance to talk to him.
"Leila called in sick."
"I don't like you working here." My stomach curdled. He'd not been as vocal about my bar job the last few days, but my long work shifts were a bone of contention between us.
"I need the money." Thea had given me a credit card with no limit, but Anton didn’t know that. He had no interest in my family. Or my life, aside from how it impacted him.
"No, you don't. I said I'd look after you, baby. Move in with me like we discussed." He reached out and fastened his fingers around my wrist. When I tried to pull back, he dug his nails into my skin hard enough to leave half-moon bruises. "I'm tired of being second best."
"I spend all my days off with you," I pointed out, ignoring the woman waving her phone at me.
Since I met him three months ago, the few friends I'd made here in Naples had long since drifted away. They'd got fed up with my flakiness, with me always canceling our plans to avoid an argument with Anton.
Even though I knew how toxic Anton was, I couldn't seem to break it off. Attracting domineering, red flag men seemed to be my specialty.
