You Remember Me

“That’s right. You remember me.”  His words show like: I see I made an impression.

Uh, he’s one of those guys who thinks he’s god’s gift to women.

My internal radar beeps with a warning. He exudes the air of a man who's accustomed to turning heads, perhaps too aware of his own charm. It's a type I've learned to be wary of—someone who believes he's the ultimate prize in the game of attraction.

I hate guys like that.

“Not exactly.” I say and move around him to head down the hallway.

“Really? Then how did you know who I was?” 

His words seem to insinuate, "I caught your attention, didn't I?" It's precisely the kind of arrogance I've come to disdain. I just try to ignore him.

“You're not as timid as you were. Which one is the real you, huh?”

He goes on from behind me.

I whirl around to face him and rest my hands on my hips. “Look. This is just some sort of weird coincidence. We met at the bus stop and nothing more. Now, this is my first shift, so I can’t be late. Excuse me.”

As I pivot and stride away, there's a shadow of amusement dancing across his features, a smirk that lingers in my peripheral vision. I turn around and head back into the main area of the club. The lights have been dimmed down from when I first arrived and there are people everywhere.

I weave my way through the crowd and head for the bar where I see one of my new coworkers already mixing drinks.

Her name’s Brandy. We have a class together and have talked a few times. She heard I was looking for a new job and referred me to this place.

When she spots me heading her way, she gives me a huge smile and a wave. I walk around the bar and tie my apron around my hips. This isn’t the first bar I’ve worked at, so I know the drill and jump right in to help Brandy serve drinks to rowdy customers.

There is a lot more diversity in clientele than at any of the other clubs I worked in. On one side of the bar there is a group of guys who are clean cut suits that are probably looking for an edgier spot to get drunk. Then there is a bridal party group who’re half drunk already and making eyes at the half dressed servers. There is a group of rougher looking people, and then there are the average joes just looking for a good time. Unfortunately, these average joes include men who are loud and snarky who do a lot of shit talking.

One of them flags me down from the furthest seat of the bar, and by how red his face is and the glossiness of his eyes, I can tell he’s already a few drinks in.

“Hi! What can I get you?” I ask him with as polite a smile as I can muster.

The pungent scent of alcohol and unwashed skin wafts from him, a heavy presence that hangs in the air like a suffocating fog. It's a sensory assault that makes each breath a conscious effort, contorting my features into an involuntary, subtle grimace.

"Another whiskey," he drawls, his words as sluggish as his demeanor.

"Of course," I reply, my voice steady despite the discomfort. As I reach for the glass to fulfill his request, I inquire, "Are you visiting from out of town?"

His response is a mere grunt, accompanied by an unsettling once-over that lingers on my form. An internal alarm rings, but I maintain a facade of congeniality, allowing a friendly smile to remain plastered on my face. With a deft motion, I set his drink down and smoothly transition to the next customer. One of the suits flag me down so I squeeze behind Brandy and make my way over to them.

“Hello gentleman, what can I get for you?” I ask.

“How about your number, beautiful?” One guy says.

His friends whoop and hoot at him, but he keeps his eyes on me. There’s a smirk on his face, but instead of making him look charming, it's giving me an uneasy feeling. He looks like the sort of guy who seems charming but doesn’t like to take no for an answer. I have to be careful around him.

“Sorry, not today, boys. How about a drink?” I ask again.

His smirk falls.

“Just get me a beer,” he snaps, his tone a sharp edge that causes me to involuntarily flinch.

“You got it.”

“One for me too, cutie!” One of the other guys says and soon the rest of them shout their orders.

I serve them as quickly as I can and move on.

“Hey new girl. Can you take this to booth three? I have my hands full.” a fellow server requests, handing me a bottle of champagne before bustling away before I can even agree.

I do as he asks and take the bottle to booth three. The booths are raised up over the main floor, so I have to climb the three steps to reach the table. My hand freezes mid air when I see the guy from the hallway. He’s sitting against the booth with his arms spread out behind two different girls and smirking up at me.

“Hello again.” He says smoothly.

“I have your champaign.” I say with a tight smile. “Would you like me to pour it or should I leave it on the table?”

“Pour for us.” He says with a nod.

I step closer and fill everyone's glasses, saving him for last. Once I’m done, I step back. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Now who might you be?” One of the other men at the table asks.

Honestly, I hadn’t really noticed him, but now that he’s speaking to me, I let my attention move to him. He’s handsome and has a smile that would make any girl blush.

“Mila. I’m new.” I say, giving him a shy smile.

“You must be. I would have remembered seeing a sweet thing like you.” He looks me over and I have an urge to shift in place.

“Stop flirting with my staff, Ashton.” My head snaps toward the guy I’ve run into three times today.

“Your staff?” I ask stupidly.

He smiles widely. “That’s right, sweetheart. This is my club.”

Well crap.

“Oh. Well, I better get back.” I take the empty bottle of champaign and hold it against my chest like a shield as I make my way back to the bar.

My mind is racing. I told that guy off this morning because of some lovers' quarrel I had no business getting in the middle of and he didn’t fire me the second he recognized me. Why?

“Thank god you're back! Can you grab those guys down there?” Brandy says nodding toward the suit guys.

I groan internally but move in their direction. They’re a lot louder now, a clear sign that they’re too drunk to be having anything else.

“There she is! The only girl in the world who’s refused Robert’s charm.” One of the guys says before slapping the guy I refused to give my number to on the shoulder.

He scowls at me, but I try to ignore him.

The atmosphere is charged with an unmistakable energy, fueled by alcohol and the anticipation of an eventful evening. My nerves are on edge, but I plaster a polite smile on my face, ready to fulfill their requests and hopefully make it through the night unscathed.

“Can I get you guys anything else or would you like to settle up?” I ask, hoping they’ll get the hint that they should leave.

“Another round!” A few of the guys shout at once.

“You got it.” I get their drinks and line them on the bar.

The guy scowling at me grabs my wrist as I’m pulling my hand back and tightens his hold on me enough that it would hurt if I tried to pull away.

His eyes heavy with alcohol and entitlement. My heart stutters in my chest, and a sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.

"How about you make things up to me?" he leers, his words dripping with innuendo that sends shivers of discomfort down my spine. "How about we go to one of those back rooms and you can give me a private show?"

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, triggering a flood of memories that I've fought so hard to suppress. My breath catches in my throat, my mind suddenly veering into a dark and suffocating place—a place I've tried to leave behind.

Before I can react, before I can find my voice to extricate myself from the situation, a voice slices through the tension like a knife through butter. “She isn’t interested. I think you boys have had enough.” Brandy says leaning over and pulling his hand away from me.

He laughs and shakes his head.

The ground shifts beneath me.

It's the only sign I get that all hell is about to break loose.