My superpower is surviving. Like a weed that can’t be properly removed, I continue to hold on to the cracks of life. While beautiful flowers wilt and disappear around me, I remain. Alone and ever vigilant for the hand that will pull me out; ripping my weak roots and tossing me to one side. Forcing me again in my most natural state—survival.
With these thoughts at the back of my mind, I walk toward the man who just entered Love and Err. He doesn’t look like he belongs, and as the club manager, it is my duty to either make him feel welcome or show him the door. Twice my size, the man’s face is red and sweaty.
“Can I help you?” I ask him, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. It’s two in the morning, almost time to close up the bar, and I left my customary vodka shot behind. Interrupted rituals make me cranky.
“I’m here to see a girl.” He scratches his forehead, his receding hairline moving along with his fingers. He must be around my age, early thirties.
“Is she expecting you?” It’s a redundant question. Love and Err is not a brothel. Whoever wants to book a private room has to go through our bespoke booking system. Everyone has to identify themselves.
“I know she’s here. She told me she would love to see me sometime, so here I am.” A bead of sweat rolls down his face and drops on the collar of his camo puffy jacket. Love and Err is a nudity-positive environment, which means people can walk around in their underwear or fetish wear if they want to. It’s always toasty here. I love it.
“What is her name?” I look to one side. The two security guys, new recruits from Sophie’s gang, are chatting peacefully near the entrance to the first floor. They don’t need to be on high alert because we don’t usually get trouble here. After The Jesters were dealt with a few months ago, everyone and their grandma know this place has some strong people backing it. No one just walks in.
Except for this guy.
“Angel,” he says. “Anger98 on Chaturbate.”
“Ah, I see.” I plaster on a sharp smile. “Did you donate to her stream?”
He nods.
“And she thanked you and told you she would be happy to see you sometime?”
“Yes, so I’m here. I know she streams from here. I recognized the wallpaper from your website.”
“Let me check for you,” I say and point to a chair. “Have a seat.”
“Do you interrogate all your customers this way?” He scowls but sits down.
He’s not a customer, so I ignore his question and go to the bar.
“Problems?” Luisa, our barmaid, asks.
“No. I’ll deal with it. Is Angel still upstairs doing her webcam thing?” I nod toward the computer behind the bar.
She taps at the screen a few times. “Yep, booked for the whole night. Note says ‘streaming until three a.m., then shower and sleep’. Doesn’t sound like she’s expecting anyone.”
I shake my head. Damn these men who think they are owed something just because they threw some money around. My hand glides across the smooth bar surface.
“Hey, where’s my shot?” I frown.
“I put it in the fridge. Last week, you told me not to give it to you until your work is done.” Luisa shoots me a devilish smile. “Only following your instructions, boss.”
I sigh. “Fine. I’ll deal with this guy and have my well-earned shot. Perfect days don’t exist.”
I breathe in, taking comfort in the muted light and familiar surroundings. Will he go quietly? I glance at the security guards, who’ve stopped talking and are now looking at me. I shake my head. I can do this on my own. What’s the worst that can happen? I’ll survive.
“Sir, Angel isn’t expecting anyone at the moment. She will message you privately if she wants to arrange something offline.” I’m smiling my most accommodating customer service smile.
“But she said she wanted to see me. Why can’t it be now?” He shifts in his chair. Sweat glistens on his upper lip and I concentrate hard to keep mine from twitching. The thought of all the moist parts under his clothes makes my stomach turn.
“Do you have a favorite celebrity?” I ask.
He seems surprised by the change of subject. “Yeah. Megan Fox.”
“Okay, if you were watching Megan Fox live and she said she loves meeting fans, would you show up on her doorstep?”
“No, but Angel isn’t Megan Fox, is she?”
“Angel is a celebrity in her own right. An entertainer.” I stand up, hoping he’ll follow my lead. He doesn’t. He just turns his glistening face, following my movement.
He’s silent for a moment. “She’s upstairs, right? I’ll go and talk to her. Or can I book her here?”
“Book her for what, sir?” My smile falters. I don’t need all this. I need a shot of vodka and my bed.
“Do I have to spell it out? She’s a whore. What do you think?” He scowls.
My face turns serious. “We don’t use that word here. Please leave.”
“What? I’m here to give you my money and you want me to leave?” He puts his palms on the table as if he’s going to hold on to it. I roll my eyes. I’m not going to drag him out. He’ll walk out on his two feet.
“The private rooms are booked in advance and paid for. We have no free rooms and the bar is now closed, so we have nothing we can offer you at the moment. You can keep your money.”
“This is ridiculous. I want to speak to the manager.” He looks around the empty lounge area.
“I am the manager,” I say with more satisfaction in my voice than I care to admit. “This is a club, not a brothel. We don’t offer what you’re looking for. It’s time for you to leave.”
I turn toward the little corridor leading to the main doors and swipe my arm in that direction.
“I’ll come again.” He stands up. He’s only a little taller than me, but his body is round and heavy. If he wants to, he can hurt me. Part of me wants him to do it, so I can hurt him back.
I peer past his shoulder. The two security guards are already walking our way. Do I need saving? Do I need assistance?
I can do this on my own. I won’t let this shitstain intimidate me.
“Don’t come again,” I say. “Nothing will have changed.”
“You’re acting all high and mighty for a whore. But you will—”
It takes me less than a second to press the knife that was strapped to my thigh to his pudgy, sweaty neck.
“Out,” I spit in his face. “Now.”
“What the fuck?” He tries to push my hand away, but I keep it flexed strong. As he wiggles, the blade nicks him and he yelps. “You can’t do this.”
“I just did.”
His eyes are wide, darting around like he’s looking for someone to save him. That’s right. I don’t need saving. He does.
I move the knife away and point to the door. “Don’t forget to never come back.”
“You stupid wh—”
“Do you want to get stabbed? Like, for real?” I shove him forward. “Leave while I’m still being nice.”
He mutters something under his breath and stomps out. Finally.
The two security dudes join me, their faces full of uncertainty.
“All in hand, boss?” one of them asks. I don’t know them very well. They both started yesterday and I’ve already forgotten everything Damien told me about them.
“Yes. What’s your name?”
“Dean.”
“Dean, from now on, if someone uses the word ‘whore’ in a derogatory way around here, throw them out,” I say with a sigh and head for the bar.
“Understood,” he says behind me.
Luisa hands me my shot, the tiny glass sleek with condensation in my hand.
At the end of every workday, I ask her for a shot of ice-cold vodka with a drop of cranberry juice. The swirl of red is mesmerizing to watch and, to be honest, it makes my day. Then I swallow it, letting it cool me down from my mouth to my insides. It’s cold, then burns. Reminds me of when my fingers are so cold that they feel hot.
“To another day in the books.” I raise my glass and she smiles.
Then I down it, and for a second I’m transported back to Murmansk, where the winters were dark, the summers light, and the cold nipped at my insides just like this.
“Thank you,” I hear before I open my eyes. I wanted to remain in that familiar feeling for longer, but someone wants to talk to me, so I peel my tired eyelids open.
Angel is sitting next to me. Luisa starts making her tea.
“I thought you were streaming until three,” I say.
“I finished early. One of my guys said he was coming to see me and I panicked. He’s kinda creepy, to be honest. The one who was just here.” She plays with a loose thread on her sleeve. She’s wearing a fluffy bathrobe, all covered in unicorns and ice creams. On the bar next to her is her shower caddy, stuffed full of luxury toiletries.
“He’s gone now,” I say. “You can go shower and sleep.”
“Thank you,” she says again.
I don’t know what to do with her gratitude. It’s only natural that I would deal with this. It’s my job, as the manager. I would have done it for anyone. My survival powers ensure the survival of others now. It’s kinda poetic.
“Yeah, no problem. Be careful outside. Don’t let them know your location.” I play with the shot glass in my hands. It has cooled my fingertips, so I move it between my hands like it’s hot coal.
“Of course.” She gives me a quick side hug before slurping her hot tea and leaving.
I stay still as a statue. I don’t like hugs.
“Another shot?” Luisa asks.
“No.” I return the tiny glass to her. “One a day, as a reward. That’s the point.”