Dream

Night Out (1)

The weekend came to an end and another long week started, but it wasn't too bad, surprisingly. Yeah, there were a few fights and scuffles during the week, we could handle those. Emanuel was in a good mood the entire time too and that's saying something because he's never in a good mood a whole week. Good for him, he knows what stable happiness feels like for once.

I worked on the White willow floor the entire week and that wasn't even the biggest problem, it wasn't a problem at all. The problem, it was him. He had access to the White Willow floor, rarely anyone has access to it. When I say it's exclusive, it's more than exclusive. He was there every day of the week, and I noticed it became a routine. The only issue was he always came at different times. Early in the night, really late at night, and sometimes in the middle. I could never predict when he'd show up but I knew he would. What I did know was he was my superior, I don't know who he is but he has power.

He ordered the same drink every time too, an Old Fashioned. I was always the one to serve him and once he was done he would leave. I have no idea what he's thinking, I can't read him at all.

I aggressively dried the cup as I was mumbling to myself, quite disappointed because I couldn't read him actually. Cup after cup, I dried until there were no more.

"Jeeze, what's up with you?" Ophelia questioned, setting a new set of dirty cups down.

"She's been like that all night," Meek added.

"Meek, shut up," I snapped.

"It's not a lie,".

"Yeah but still, shut up,".

Ophelia cautiously walked around me, "You're going to break a cup,".

I turned to look at her, "No,".

"You're basically fighting the cup," She said.

I groaned, turning around back to what I was doing, ignoring them since they wouldn't understand what I was going through and it's tragic. Once I finished cleaning the rest of the cups, I went to my section of the bar and began taking orders. I reached the second to last person ready to order and when I looked up I was met with all too familiar overpowering eyes.

I sighed and cocked my head to the side, "I'm starting to think meeting you this often isn't a coincidence,".

He grinned, "You think so?".

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to read him but once again I wasn't able to read him at all. Tonight he had an all black suit, classy as usual.

"Let me guess, an Old Fashioned?". I asked.

"You catch on quick," He said, with clear sarcasm.

I smiled and left to make his drink. A classic superstition is if you make something angry it doesn't turn out good, whether it's food or a drink. I guess we're going to see if that's true or not because I was angry and it was his fault.

I set his glass down and when he reached to grab it my eyes locked on the purple bruises around his knuckles. Cut up and red. My mind automatically went back to last week, right as we were leaving we heard the cries of someone and loud crashes. I couldn't help but think of the man in front of me, I looked up with cautious eyes and watched him take a sip of his drink, only one hand was hurt. I couldn't stop myself from thinking that he could be capable of things like...murder. That's too far, maybe like a hit on someone. He might not be capable of it but my mind didn't agree with me.

"Is there something on my face?" He asked, locking eyes with me.

I looked around and backed off, "No, my bad,".