Chapter 3: Is he real, or am I dreaming?

Zoe

              I didn’t sleep at all last night. With work and school, I feel like I’ve been stretched thin. I did have a few weird dreams of a gorgeous man with leather wings. One of them was so real.

              I dreamt that I was a slave girl in a Roman home. The master of the house decided to take a trip to a gladiator fight, and the lady of the house took us along to serve them while they watched the bloody battles. I was serving the master wine when I saw him. He was one of the most good-looking men I’ve ever seen. He had golden hair and amber eyes. I remember watching him walk out to the gladiator ring. He never saw me, but I saw him. I watched him skillfully fight his opponent without caring for his own life. He looked so lonely afterward. I wanted to run to him and give him solace, but that was not possible. Servants were not allowed to talk to fighters. I was entranced by his masculine beauty. Unfortunately, the dream ends like many of the dreams I’ve had. My Greek family and I are slaughtered by a Thracian warlord that very night. I will never forget the man’s sinister face as he cut us all down.

              It was one of the most wretched dreams I’ve ever had. I woke up with my body feeling sensitive and needy for the good-looking golden man. I don’t tell Bree about it, though. She would probably suggest I find a man and get laid. All that girl thinks about is sex. I guess because she’s never really gotten any. I don’t see what the big deal is either way. I’ve been with two guys, and they both sucked in bed. I really don’t get what the hype is, but whatever.

              I guess I should be grateful that it wasn’t the other nightmare. I close my eyes, not wanting to think about those. I have enough to deal with.

              I manage to get through my day without a hassle. However, thoughts of my dream sneak up on me during quiet moments. I just don’t get why it’s so stuck in my mind. It’s infuriating. I guess I have to stop watching television before I go to bed.

              My level of restlessness is at a boiling point by the time my shift at work ends. Thankfully, Bree’s giving me a ride tonight. “Hey,” I say, slipping into the passenger seat of her Sentra. She smiles widely and hands me a black leather jacket. “What’s this?” I ask in surprise. She giggles. “This is your jacket.” I roll my eyes at her obtuse response. “I know that it’s my jacket. What I mean is— Why are you handing me the jacket?” She puffs out a breath. “Well, I want you to put the jacket on because we’re going clubbing tonight.”

              My brow quirks with surprise. “Um. Okay. You do know that I just came from having to deal with drunken idiots at the bar. Why on earth would I want to go out to a club tonight?” Bree blows a raspberry and gives me her most irritating pout. “Please, Zoe. I really want to go out tonight. I’ll owe you one. I promise.” Sometimes she can be such an insolent bitch, but I love her anyway. “Fine then. But remember, you owe me big.”

              She laughs at my half-hearted threatening tone. Of course, she knows that I won’t call her on her rain check. The sneaky little devil knows I'd do anything for her. I love this girl too much for that. Giving her my most put-out scowl, I slip the jacket over my black tank-top and adjust my short black skirt. I fluff my hair out and slide lip gloss across my lips. I guess it’s time for some fun.

              We both stop in front of the club. The sign reads Galea. I turn back to Bree in surprise. “Wow, this is nice. Where did you get the idea to come here?” She shrugs her shoulders. “Sahara owns it. I figured, why not try it out?” My face heats up with anger at her words. “Are you fucking kidding me? Why would I want to go from working in Sahara’s bar to one of her clubs?”

              Bree grimaces with guilt. “Come on, Zoe, It’ll be fun. A few people at work said that it’s awesome. You work at her bar for crying out loud.  Plus, I’m sure she won’t be there. Doesn’t she have dinner parties on the weekends?” She says with a plea.

I have to admit, I want to shake my friend until her brain falls back in place, but I know that she means well. Sahara does usually spends weekends at the house. I take a deep breath and give her a reluctant nod. “Fine, but you just upped the ante on what you owe me. From now on, you’re my bitch. Got it?” She squeals and claps her hands with excitement. “Yay! Don’t worry, Zoe. We’re going to have fun. I promise.” I sigh in resignation, trying to resist the urge to roll my eyes at her enthusiasm.

               After a few moments, Bree parks her vehicle nearby and shuts off the car. “Ready?” Breathing a sigh of relief, I adjust my skirt and slide out of the car. There’s a long line of people waiting outside of the club entrance. The bouncer smiles when he spots us and waves us over. He’s a giant man with a bald head and a brutishly muscular body. Bree takes my hand and leads me towards him. “Hello, ladies.” He says with a sly smile. “You can go right ahead.” Bree beams at the bouncer and blows him a kiss. “Wow. Thanks, sweetie.” The bouncer beams at her compliment and gestures to the door. Bree is such a charmer. It doesn't surprise me that the bouncer falls under her spell so quickly.

              The club is packed. I gaze around the room, taking the scenery in. It’s a little more high-end than Dusty’s place. I guess all of Sahara’s money is here because Dusty’s is a step away from a shithole. The place looks like something from the movie Troy. The walls are a sand color with large wooden columns, and the booths are brown and red leather with a rustic-looking bar that gleams beautifully from under the halogen lights. There’s a small dance floor in the center filled with dancing couples.  All of the paintings on the wall show depictions of gladiators in various stages of battles. They are well done and realistic-looking, that I feel like I can reach out and touch the men in the pictures.

              The music is definitely modern. Skrillex is playing in the background, creating an almost electrifying atmosphere. People sway to the rhythmic beat of the pulsing speakers, entranced.         

              Bree and I step towards the bar and order a few drinks. Then we move onto the dance floor and start swaying our hips to the music. The urge to sing is almost overwhelming. But the thought of what might happen freezes my vocal cords. Several men stop us and ask us to dance, but Bree refuses and leads me back to the bar.

              “What’s that?” Zoe asks, pointing to a curtained door near the bar. There’s a man in a tuxedo standing in front of it with a stern expression.  A couple stops in front of him and points at the curtained doorway. The man nods his head and opens the curtain to admit them in.

“Let’s go see what that is,” Bree says with an excited quiver. I roll my eyes and follow behind Bree. As we come closer, the man moves his eyes, appraises us, and quirks a brow. “What may I do for you, ladies?” He asks with a soft melodic voice. Bree nudges her chin towards the man sending me a silent signal. Typical of Bree, she waits for me to say something. Leave it to Bree to make me do all the work. I give her my hardest glare and turn back to the man before I say in my most flirtatious voice. “What’s behind the curtain, handsome?” His mouth tilts up slightly. “I don’t think a lady of your sensibilities would appreciate what’s behind the curtain.”

              Bree scoffs, placing her hand on her waist coquettishly. “Aw, come on, baby. We promise to be good if you let us in.” She says, running her hand over the lapel of his jacket. The man smiles and opens the red velvet curtain with an ominous wave. “Have fun, ladies. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Bree pats his chest and slips inside. “Thanks, big guy.” I hesitate in the doorway, feeling a sense of foreboding, but the guard simply tilts his head waving us towards the door. “What’s the matter, gorgeous? Scared?”

Glancing at him with a defiant glare, I slip inside the door and follow the path towards Bree. “Come on.” She says with a wave of her hand. I look back to see the red velvet curtain close behind me.

               Bree and I gasp in surprise when we see what is beyond the doors. There are people milling around some kind of boxing ring, cheering in excitement. There are plush chairs set up around the room— loaded with men and women dressed to the nines. Several waiters are serving cocktails and wine to the patrons.

              The place looks like something from a king’s throne room or a bordello. There are red velvet drapes with gold chords decorating the walls and Persian carpets covering the floor. The chairs are decorated with gilded gold etchings. Bree and I move closer to the fighting ring in the center of the room, getting a better view of the action. I almost faint when I see who is fighting. It has to be a coincidence. He looks like the man in my dream. His golden hair and chest are glistening with sweat as he wields a sword towards his opponent. His hands are wrapped in tape, and he’s wearing fitted black shorts.

              I roam my eyes over the contours of his six-pack abs and the planes of his chest and arms greedily. His naked chest glistens under the light of the chandelier enticingly. I swallow hard as I greedily follow a drop of sweat, sliding sensuously down the V of his back and stomach. He has several tattoos decorating his body. There’s one on his rib cage, one on the ball of his shoulder, and large bat-like wings on his back. His eyes look intently into his opponents as he aims his sword with purpose.

              His opponent is just as impressive. He’s tall and muscular, with a shaved head and intense silver eyes.  They both look like embodiments of masculine perfection. Bree grips my elbow with her eyes are as wide as saucers. “Holy shit. Look at those two. They look like those hot gladiators from that cable show.” I nod my head, never taking my eyes off the man’s form. I don't want to blink. My mouth dries at the delicious sight before me.

              Just then, the sword falls from his opponent’s hands and lands on the floor. The crowd cheers wildly, calling out the man’s name over and over again. “Azazel! Azazel…” They chant, rebelling in Azazel’s victory. Both men give each other an arrogant smile and connect forearms in salute. They both look like warriors of old. My heart speeds up when the man—Azazel, turns around and faces our direction. His eyes sharpen when he spots me, then narrow when they land on Bree.

              I gulp loudly when he tightens his jaw and whirls around to make his way out of the ring. He's amazing. Unfortunately, I’m so focused on the man that I don’t notice who else is in the room. Bree grips my elbow tightly and pulls me back with a horrified expression. “Oh, shit, Sahara’s here!” She mutters, panicked. I look in the direction where she is looking and see Sahara. She’s sitting in front of a large dining table near the corner of the room. The table is covered with a white tablecloth, crystal wine glasses, and gleaming silverware. Sahara looks like the queen of the castle, wearing a gorgeous red halter dress that fits her body to perfection. There are two men in suits standing next to her. By the guarded expressions on their faces, I’m guessing that they're either bodyguards or bouncers. Sahara is such a diva. Ever since I’ve known her, she has been a bit of a show-off.

              Sahara is the kind of person who loves making people feel inferior. Especially me. I know that she knows that I’m John’s daughter. She hates my mother with a passion. To be honest, I think she takes great pleasure in making me feel beholden to her. And since we’re poor college students, we suck it up.

              Bree and I turn as quickly as we can and try to sneak back out the door. I can't resist the urge to get another look at the man of my dreams, though. And let me tell you, it is an extremely hard task. However, before we can make it to the curtains, one of Sahara’s goons steps in front of us. Thankfully, the man doesn’t notice our panicked expressions. “Mrs. Dawson wishes to speak to you.” The man says in the most morbid voice I’ve ever heard. He sounds like what I imagine a mortician sounds like. There is no expression on his face and no inflection in his voice. Bree looks towards Sahara then turns back to the man. “Um. We actually have to go, and…”

              The man ignores her and takes both our elbows to usher us forcefully to Sahara’s table. I almost swallow my tongue when I see who is sitting next to her. They both seem to be in deep conversation. Sahara, however, seems to be more interested in his tattoos. She runs her hands caressingly over his shoulder and smiles flirtatiously. I want to vomit when she flutters her fake lashes and giggles.

              Her smile dies down, and her eyes narrow to slits when they land on us. “Zoe, what are you doing here? I thought you had a shift at Dusty’s today.” She says with a heated glare. The man’s eyes meet mine with interest. His jaw ticks becomingly as he leans back and snags my gaze. It’s as if he is hypnotizing me. I can’t look away. All I can think about is moving closer and kissing him. My heart beats to the wild drum of the music, and my throat dries.

              “We just came to check out your new place, Sahara. It’s great.” Bree says with an even tone. Sahara sneers at her response and focuses her glare on me. Unfortunately, she notices that I'm staring at her gladiator, and he's staring back at me. Not liking where this is heading, she raises her hand and places it under his chin. Which seems to annoy the man if the way he scowls at her actions is any indication. “Azazel, darling. How about you follow Luke and read through the contract?”

              The man keeps his smoldering eyes on me as he rises from his seat and follows one of the bodyguards to another room. I can’t help but take one last look at his temptingly perfect body before he disappears behind the door. Sahara clears her throat, drawing my attention back to her.

              “What do you think about my new gladiator, girls? He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Bree and I nod warily. When it comes to Sahara, we don’t know how she’ll respond. I don’t want to piss her off by saying the wrong thing. She gives Bree a cool look, which turns frosty when she looks at me. “Well, since you’re here, I might as well let you know that I need you to work a few shifts here from now on. I will let Dusty know. Also, Marina is coming for a visit this weekend. We’ll be coming to the building for our usual inspection. I told her that you would make dinner for her. You know how much she loves your cooking.” She says with a sneer. I try not to cringe at the mention of Sahara’s friend, Marina.

              That’s another enigma in my life. If Sahara is a queen bitch, Marina is the creator of all bitches. She comes around at least once a month and helps Sahara drag my self-esteem through the mud. I honestly don’t get why she even wants to hang out at my apartment. It’s obvious that she can’t stand the sight of me. She usually comes around for about an hour, does not eat a thing I make, and leaves. It’s mind-boggling. However, since it makes Sahara happy, I suck it up. Because a happy Sahara means another month in my apartment, Bree and I just can’t afford another place. And since Bree's sister Lana lives with us too, we thought she’d need a stable home for all of us to live in.

              I give her my most insincere smile and nod my head. “Sounds good. I’ll make sure dinner is perfect for her.” Sahara purses her lips and gestures to the door. “Good. Well, since you’re here, you might as well get to know the place. Just don’t think that you don’t have to pay for anything because you do.” Relieved at being dismissed, I nod my head and take Bree’s hand to lead her away from the table.

              Bree and I make a hasty exit and walk back to the bar. “Holy shit Zoe. I’m so sorry.” She says with a regretful grimace. I wave her apology away and move towards an empty stool at the bar. “It’s fine, B. It wasn’t as bad it could have been.” Bree sighs with relief and sits next to me. “Yeah, but it still sucked. And you wouldn’t have been in this predicament if it wasn’t for me.”

              I shake my head at her chastened tone and wrap an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. I can handle Sahara.” For the next hour, we take down a few shots and dance. Bree is dancing with a cute guy, and I’m dancing on my own when it happens. He changed his clothes. He’s wearing a black tank-top that molds to the muscled contours of his chest and low-rise blue jeans that rest perfectly over his firm thighs. His hair glistens under the lights of the dance floor as he makes his way to a nearby table. He prowls towards the table and sits in a quiet corner, looking stoic. I watch attentively as several women stop in front of him but are quickly dismissed.

              Then he looks up, and our eyes clash. Just like he did earlier, he keeps his eyes on me. There is no expression on his face. He simply sits there and watches me intently. Sweat gathers around my throat as my hair sticks to my neck. Before I know it, I’m walking towards him. It’s like he has an invisible tether that lures me to him. A part of me screams out for me to turn around and run, but it’s as if my legs are on automatic. He tilts his head when I stop in front of him and says in the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. “Hello, luv.” My breath hitches, and my body stirs. I feel like I’ve been numb all my life and am finally gaining all of my senses. My ears roar and my heart beats wildly inside my chest. I lick my lips and respond. “Hello.”

              His eyes traverse my body like a paintbrush gliding over a canvas. I can almost feel the touch of his eyes on my skin. He rises from his chair and stands in front of me. He’s tall and well defined. No words are spoken as we gaze at each other with wonder. He’s about to raise his hand to my face when a loud female squeal startles us from our trance.

              I want to cry when a beautiful woman throws her arms around him and kisses his cheek. “Azazel. What are you doing here?” He gives the girl a wide smile, pulls her into his arms, and kisses her cheek. I feel like I don’t exist anymore. Before the couple can notice my fallen expression, I turn around and walk back to my table. I don’t even look back. I feel so stupid. Of course, this man would have a girlfriend. What was I thinking? I’ve never initiated anything with a guy. I don’t even want a relationship.

              A feeling of exhaustion overwhelms me again. I just want to go home and sleep. Moving towards a dancing Bree, I tap her shoulder and say. “I’m tired, B. Is it okay if we go home?” Bree nods her head and gives me a thumbs-up before she turns to her partner and makes her excuses.

              We don’t say much as we make our way home. I don’t even mention my encounter with the alluring man— Azazel. I’m just going to pretend that I never met him—clear him out of my mind. Unfortunately, I can’t control my dreams. This time I dream that he’s a knight, and I’m some kind of chambermaid in a castle. I watch as he makes his way into the King’s throne like a conquering hero. Just like the last time, I watch him from afar and never speak to him. He never notices me. I’m invisible.