a song I’m a

She didn't take the ride. She didn't trust him. He told her to come to his office. He texted her an address.

She swallowed. She probably going to be trafficked or something. Doing this was ridiculous.

But for reason...she thought he wasn't dangerous. At least, not to her phyical well-being.

And honestly, she couldn't get a minimum wage job right now, that would sink her faster.

She needed money quickly. 

Her body had aged more than her fair share and she was finding it harder and harder to do manual labor.

She needed an out. He offered an out. It was little convenient but...she could at least see.

She took the bus for two hours to get into the city. She got off the bus, walking only a few minutes to the office. It was huge.

She looked up the skyscraper, looking down at her phone. It was the right address.

She swallowed, buzzing the ringer on the door.

"Name?" A voice came through the intercom.

"Um...Ophelia? Ophelia Lawson?"

She didn't have an appointment. Maybe they didn't know who she wa—

"The door is open." 

She opened the door, stepping into the building. She swallowed roughly.

The guard smiled, nodding up to her.

"Mr. Hades will see you on the thirteenth floor, the first suite on the right. Here's a visitors badge to get in."

Ophelia took it, adjusting her clothes. She was not dressed for this at all. But nothing in her closet matched the opulence of this place.

Besides, soon she wouldn't have a closet. 

Because she'd be homeless.

She smiled. "Thank you very much," she whispered, heading into the elevator.

She couldn't stand still. She paced around the enclosed space. Maybe she should just leave and pretend she never saw that card.

The whole deal was shady as fuck anyway. Some guy speaking in metaphors, who hands her a black card with no name, just a number.

And his name is Mr. Hades?

This was either Percy Jackson spin off, or she was about to killed.

Honestly, did it matter at this point?

She cleared her throat, trying to adjust her hair feeling insecure as the doors opened.

She stood tall, quickly finding the door, and using the pass to enter it.

This was going to be quick. It was going to be weird. And wrong. And she would leave immediately and figure something else out.

There was no receptionist here. No guard. The walls were white and there was no furniture. She narrowed her eyes, turning around.

Yep. Creepy all ready. She would just—

"I'm guessing," his low voice rattled her bones. "You came for the job?"

She paused, before turning around. "I'm not sure why I came. But thank you for the opportuni..."

She paused. She couldn't see before in the bar. His long hair startled her. It was nice, and it fit him but it made him look...out of place.

Not in a bad way, but coupled with his suit and the look on his face, he seemed like he was in the wrong century.

He smiled gently. "I need a canary. Down in The Mines."

She frowned. "You want me...what?"

A canary in the mines? They were used in mines to spit poison gas. By dying.

Of course it's be weird. He was weird. The whole thing was–

"I want you to be a canary in The Mines, song bird."

She frowned deeper. "Sorry. You want me to go into a mine and die so you can know there's poisonous gas there?"

He chuckled. She steadied herself

"Not die. And not a literal mine. It's a club. I want you to sing there and keep an eye out on any...poisonous auras."

She swallowed. "A club? What kind of club?"

He looked at her for a moment, before looking down. "Follow me." He instructed.

She hesitated, following him deeper into the office.

"The Mine is a club that's underground, hence the name," he started as they walked through the very empty hall. "And, like a mine, everyone who attends is rich. It's a...networking event essentially that just never stops."

She nodded. That wasn't so bad.

"As you can imagine security is tight. And invites are scarce. However with wealth comes a significant amount of trickery," He paused, stopping in the empty hall.

She looked around. 

He grinned. "All of my employees are there to serve and monitor these deals so that I am not liable for any unsavory actions. What I'm missing, is a Canary. A little song bird. I think you are that song bird."

She swallowed, backing away slightly. "You haven't even heard me sing."

"It doesn't matter," he said quietly. "You can be trained to sing. But you have the makings of a star little song bird. And you have...a special something. You're what I need."

She frowned. "Uh... thank you for the opportunity but...I'm not sure it's the place for me."

"You haven't even seen the place," he said lowly. "How do you know it's not for you?"

That was true, Ophelia thought to herself.

"How about this, I'll take you a tour of the place. Not today, but tomorrow, bright and early. "

He walked past her, going back down the same hallway, this time toward the door she came in through.

"If you like it, we can talk more. Oh, and if it helps, little Songbird. Whatever you want to make an hour, is fine by me. Just pick a number."

She stopped. 

"I'm sorry? Whatever I want?" She trembled, looking at her worn hands.

It was too good to be true. But she'd loved her life living someone else's dream. Damn it she could at least see this one through.

"Yes. Just say a figure. Right now."

She bit her lip. "20 dollars an hour," she spat out. 

"Done," he quipped, moving forward once more.

20 dollars an hour? She could make that work. Save up for a new apartment. Get a car. Pay her bills.

Shit. That would help. A lot.

He spun around, his piecing dark eyes settling on hers. 

"Take your time. Don't make your decision until you've seen the place. I'll explain more about your duties when we go the walk through. For now...fly home songbird."

Who would say something like that, she thought. 

"Thank you, Mr. Hades?" She extended her hand.

He took her hand in his, shaking it gently. "It's pronounced Hades. Adrian Hades. I look forward to hearing your songs, Canary."