The Lies you Tell

Sometimes I wondered how long it would take for this loud music to affect my hearing. Whenever a particular popular song emitted through the speakers in the club, usually with quite a bit of bass, the club would erupt with a louder noise than usual that I couldn’t seem to get used to. Saturdays were our busiest days, but this Saturday was especially packed since the club had just introduced black lights which turned on every so often.  Maribeth tapped me on the shoulder from the side, causing me to let out a sigh of relief at the idea of a break. Though I only worked here on the weekends, the seven-hour shifts of constant drink-making were worse than all three of my five-hour shifts at Jitter’s Coffee House a week combined. Well, probably not but that’s what it felt like at the moment.  “You’re up for your lunch, then the VIP afterward,” Maribeth smiled at me while tossing a handful of her beautiful red hair behind her shoulder. I nodded, already having our new routine for the weekends down. Luckily since I had worked here for a little over a year now and because of those privileges, I got to switch out halfway through the night and serve in the VIP area which was a cakewalk compared to the main floor on Saturdays. Switching positions was a new idea my boss came up with to keep most of us bartenders happy.  “Thanks,” I practically shouted over the music, before leaning in to whisper, “watch the guy on the far right. He’s pretty hammered as is.” She nodded and smiled at the eager customers who already appeared impatient from the ten-second bartender swap.  I made my way to the back of the club and slipped into a seemingly hidden black door that led to a hallway with a few different rooms for our bathrooms, locker room, break room, and office.  I shuffled to the break room, my feet already killing me even though I had a good three hours left of my shift. After punching out for my break, Johny, a filler DJ who was only called in if there was an emergency or if some of the sound systems needed tuning, popped into the break room for a minute and entertained me with some small talk while I ate my turkey sandwich. We talked about how school was going, since we went to the same university, and about the school football game yesterday. Even though I didn’t know enough football to add anything to the conversation, Johny carried on just fine and told me about why we lost and what we could have done better.  After he downed a can of coke, he excused himself to finish checking the mics backstage since we were supposed to have a live show tomorrow. Once I was done wasting my break by scrolling mindlessly through i********:, I threw my empty lunch bag away, clocked back in, and made my way back out to the main club floor.  I worked at the Tunnel, a local club in my city that was pretty popular for its shows on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights. A long dark hallway that was now lit up with black lights led you to the main floor of the club that was pretty spacious compared to most clubs I had been to around this side of town. That was the main part of the club, with its plain black furniture pushed against the walls, free for whoever wanted to sit. The restrooms were trashy, the alcohol was cheap, and the dance floor was so crowded that you could barely see the stage from the tall crowd. However; if you walked straight out of the tunnel entrance and kept going, you’d reach the stairs that took you to the second level of the club that was “guarded” by Tony. The second level of the club was for VIP members as well as people who paid a pretty penny to just get in for the night and see what it was like. The whole setting upstairs was an entirely new set of both style and people. The booths were made of fake leather, the carpet was deep and clean red, the alcohol was top shelf and almost always charged to a tab, and the bathrooms would make a Stepford wife cry. The lights on the second floor were dimmed and each booth that seated the VIP members was a small furnished living room made of soundproof curtains that added just enough trash and class to make it seem right for the price.  I passed Tony, the bodyguard placed at the bottom of the stairs who made sure that only the VIP members and the bartenders entered the area. He gave me a quick nod and I returned a small smile before making my way upstairs and to the bar in the middle of the second floor. To match the classier setting upstairs there was a circular bar that always included two bartenders for fast service. When I saw Kyle at the bar, I immediately felt a little swirl in my stomach that quickly spread lower. It wasn’t that I had a crush on Kyle or anything, his rude and cocky personality would never allow for that, but I couldn’t deny the s****l appeal. His hair was a dark brown, tousled in just a way that you knew he couldn’t be bothered with it yet that looked so right for him. His facial features were sharp, his face always clean-shaven and his overall body slender and tall. Behind his black-rimmed glasses were dark brown eyes that always seemed to pierce right through whatever someone was saying, getting straight to the truth. And his tattoos were extensive art that went beyond just the small glimpse you would get from his rolled-up sleeves. Though Kyle was twenty-nine, he acted like he was a freshman in college and although that would usually be a huge turn-off for me, he somehow made it work for him. If I had to guess, I would say it was the glasses and clean-shaven face that made him look so geeky and young.  “Esme,” Kyle smirked as I switched spots with Marcus, who was set to go on his lunch. “The middle button on your shirt’s undone,” Kyle chuckled, his gaze sticking to my breasts. I quickly fumbled with the buttons on my white shirt, mumbling a few curses under my breath as I did so which only caused Kyle to let out another chuckle. After buttoning my shirt and washing my hands, I joined Kyle in making a round of drinks he was making for booth four. We got most of our orders from the iPad that was directly connected to the ones in the booths-allowing for the VIPs to effortlessly get wasted for a high price. “How has it been tonight?” I asked though I was just looking for any excuse to talk to Kyle.  “The usual. There’s a bride to be in booth four, a group of richies in two, and some shady-looking guys in booth seven. Probably drug dealers or something.” I rolled my eyes at the blatant gossip, but I couldn’t help but wonder how right Kyle might be. After all, this is one of the few places in public that offers this much privacy. I wouldn’t put it past anyone that there were some major drug deals going down in this club. “I’ll be back,” Kyle said after he loaded a tray with the colorful cosmopolitans and martinis. I started on the drinks for table two from the order that came through on the iPad as Kyle was serving, giving me just enough time to finish the drinks by the time he came back. “I’ll be back,” I said, causing Kyle to nod. I made my way to booth two and pulled back the privacy curtain, one hell of a struggle when you were carrying a tray of drinks. I stepped into the room and pulled the curtain closed behind me while balancing the drinks. Five of the six people sitting on the couches seemed to be pretty tipsy as was while the sober guy seemed like he wanted to be anywhere in that small room. He swirled a straw around in his water with one hand, his eyes on his phone in the other hand.  “Finally,” one guy grinned as he eyed the drinks on my tray.  “I have a rum and coke here-” “That would be mine,” the guy to my right said before I handed him the drink. I quickly passed out the rest and laughed at the compliments I received from one of the tipsy guys.  “No really. The last bartender that brought us drinks was such a drought. He was like the most formal dude and almost spilled Joe’s water,” the guy to my left laughed, referring to Marcus. Joe took a drink of his water while his attention was focused on a game he was playing on his phone. “Poor bastard is already suffering enough from not drinking. Wet pants would make it way worse.” “No doubt about that,” I replied though not caring for the drunken convo. “I’m fine,” Joe grumbled though he sounded more defeated than anything. “I can get you a mimosa if you want,” I suggested with a shrug, not sure what else to say. “If you don’t want to get drunk. They’re pretty low in percentage and I can make it taste really good,” I smirked, causing Joe’s pale cheeks to flush up when his eyes met mine. “See that’s what I’m talking about!” The guy who was complimenting me earlier laughed. “Let the pretty lady get you a mimosa.” “Come on, Joe,” another dude joined in and gave a light-hearted shove to his friend.  “Fine…” Joe groaned, causing the other guys to cheer him on with a noise volume that covered the noise from downstairs. “But only one.” I nodded in feigned agreement before excusing myself from the room. Once I was back at the bar, I found Kyle cleaning a few things in the sink which he put to the side when I started to ring up the mimosa.  “Are you doing anything later tonight?” Kyle asked, causing my mouth to dry up all of the sudden. I tried to stay nonchalant even as I fumbled as I started the mimosa causing a cold orange juice to spill over my knuckles. “You mean aside from crashing as soon as I get home?” I asked, immediately kicking myself for making it sound as if I wasn’t dying for a chance to hang out with him. Well if I was going to be honest with myself I didn’t want to simply hang out with him. “Yeah, aside from that,” he chuckled before appearing next to me at the bar, his tattooed arms making an appearance as he rested his fairly large hands on the countertop.  “Not really. Why what’s up?” I replied with words that were a little too rushed. I turned to face Kyle who gave me a smirk and a once-over, which I would usually comment on. But seeing as though my heart was beating at the speed of a running cheetah, I didn’t want to risk stumbling over my words. “I was kind of hoping to get a ride home after we close up here.” I nodded and turned back to the mimosa in front of me, putting it on top of the tray, trying to maintain the smile on my face. “Marcus left early?” I asked, referring to Kyle’s usual ride home. Like I said before, Kyle was not a responsible guy and because of that specific personality trait he had received a DUI and was suspended from driving for a minute. At least that’s what Maribeth had told me. “Yeah. Just texted me while you were serving. Some crazy s**t with his sister again.” “Yeah. I can drop you off. Just don’t smoke in my car.” “Deal,” he agreed before turning back to the dishes he had collected from the booths. I rolled my eyes to myself and tried to ignore the defeated feeling I had. I should know by now that Kyle would never start anything between us since we worked together. I had seen him flirt and hit on countless girls in the VIP section but if he had any intention of treating me with the same affection that he wouldn’t have waited a year to do it. With that in mind, I grabbed the tray with the mimosa and delivered it to Joe in booth two, who looked almost relieved to see the drink. I occupied my mind by chatting with the group for a bit about drinks and the club before making my way back to the bar where Kyle was loading drinks up on a different tray. I felt a buzz in my pocket from my phone causing me to pull it out. “What booth is that for?” I asked, reading the message on my phone from my best friend, Sophie.  ‘Remember what I said-give him the look’ I wanted to roll my eyes at the blatantly stupid advice my best friend gave me but instead, I settled for slipping my phone back into my pants pocket and eyeing the expensive bottles of whisky, vermouth, and bitters that were sitting on the counter. “Booth seven,” Kyle answered as he finished putting the drinks on the tray.  “Mostly guys?” I asked. “Yeah, but I’ll take it to them.” I quickly and carefully picked up the tray.  “Be my guest,” Kyle shrugged without argument. “If you end up murdered though, I’m driving myself home with your car,” he smirked. “You wish,” I laughed, though I wouldn’t put it past his icy personality.  I started towards booth seven which was one of the larger booths on the VIP floor that had the usual large L-shaped couch and then a private dancing pole, which made me think about the comment Kyle made earlier about the people here being drug dealers. Usually, the only people who rented that booth for the night were large groups of wedding-goers. I pulled back part of the large curtain and closed it behind me, a rule of thumb for keeping privacy. I noticed the guys around the booth but tried not to make too much eye contact as I focused on setting the four drinks down on the table, Kyle’s earlier comment under my skin. If these guys were trouble then the last thing I wanted to do was look at the wrong person and have my body dumped in the nearest ocean or lake. I stood up, my empty tray in front of me and my eyes landing on the first guy I saw.  He had Asian features, porcelain skin, a relaxed expression, and a soft yet intense jawline that was clean-shaven. What interested me most was his bright blonde hair that was lit a light blue by the lights in the room.  “Thank you,” he said, grabbing the nearest drink with the most bored expression I had ever seen somebody have. I didn’t care to point out what was what since they were all the same thing.  “Of course. Is there anything else I can get you guys?” I asked while glancing to my right, noticing one guy with a BlueTooth earpiece standing in the corner with a guarded expression and rigid body. Was he their bodyguard? Did they have bodyguards with them? “That will be all,” another guy said, drawing my attention to him. Unlike the guy to his right, this guy was the total opposite of angelic. His jaw was also sharp and sprinkled with a five o’clock shadow and his blonde hair looked like it was styled with more money than I made in a month. His eyebrows were set in a rigid line that made me think he was either very angry or he had one serious resting b***h face. “We’ll buzz if we need anything else,” he responded matter-of-factly. I nodded at the que and quickly left the room without so much as a second glance at the rest of the people in the room.  “What’s up?” Kyle asked when I sat the tray down a little too hard on the glass bar.  “Nothing. It slipped,” I lied, causing Kyle to grunt in response and go back to scrolling on his phone. Another order for booth two popped up and as I began to make the drinks another order for booth seven appeared as well. As I worked on booth two’s drinks Kyle started, finished, and loaded the new order for booth seven. After he left for the booth I had just previously served, a girl in a short pink dress sauntered up to the bar and sat on a stool. “I need something strong please,” she muttered, resting her head on one of her hands.  “Long day?” I asked, interested in my newfound work entertainment. “Long life,” she answered rather dramatically. “Shots?”  “Patron please.” I poured her a shot of her desired poison and sat it in front of her, which she quickly took in a manicured hand and threw back. “Another please.” “Coming up,” I nodded before wiping my hands off on a towel under the bar from some spilled tequila. “What happened?” I inquired as my curiosity got the better of me. “My friend is getting married next week and I’m one of her bridesmaids,” she said before shooting back the other shot and wincing afterward.  “Isn’t that something to be happy about?” At this rate, she was going to be pretty tipsy. Or drunk depending on how well she held her liquor. “She’s marrying my ex-boyfriend.” Another shot down the hatchet and she finally signaled for no more shots. “And they’re using the plans we made for our future wedding. I feel like I’m going to my own wedding for a girl that I can barely even stand being around and for a guy that I still debate about killing.” “That sucks,” I muttered, really feeling bad for the girl in front of me. She twirled a brown curl around her index finger and sighed, her mind elsewhere for the moment. “Yeah, you’re telling me,” she eventually muttered. Kyle appeared again and grabbed the tray in front of me, checking the iPad to make sure everything was there. He winked at the bridesmaid at the bar before carrying the drinks away. “Is he single?” The bridesmaid asked, still watching as Kyle walked away.  “Yeah, but trust me,” I emphasized, “you don’t want a guy like him.” Even though I sort of felt bad about dissing Kyle behind his back, I knew he would say something similar about me to anyone else. Plus, there was no use lying to the poor girl in front of me.  “I have such a terrible taste for guys,” the girl groaned, dropping her head to her arm on the bar. I whipped her up a martini upon her request, to which she happily took. “Just charge it all to the bride’s tab. Her rich dad is paying for everything,” she rolled her eyes. I nodded, glancing over at the iPad that showed a new order for booth seven.  “Well if it makes you feel any better, you look really good,” I complimented her as I started on the new order for the seemingly alcoholic group of guys in booth seven. After a moment of silence, I looked up at the girl who seemed to be lost in thought at what I had said. When she snapped back to reality and smirked before she seemed to gain back some warmth into her face as the shots hit her system.  “I know,” she laughed. She drank the rest of her martini and stood up, grabbing the bar counter for quick support. “Guess I better go back and entertain the wicked witch of the west,” she giggled, causing me to let out a chuckle myself. She sauntered back towards her booth, passing Kyle on the way, causing him to stare back at her ass as she walked away. I rolled my eyes at him, though he didn’t seem to notice and if he did he just didn’t care. He looked at the iPad, his brows furrowing together and his mouth drawing into a thin line.  “What’s up?” I asked, slipping the whisky back to its spot as I finished booth seven’s order.  “Booth seven ordered another drink.”  “Duh,” I rolled my eyes. “It’s a club. They’re here to drink.” I loaded the drink onto the tray and prepared to take it to booth seven.  “Yeah but they weren’t finished with their last drinks,” he frowned. Suddenly, before I could suggest again that this was a club and ordering drinks was pretty normal, his face broke into a smirk. He slowly looked me over, my body reacting on its own accord. “Maybe they just want to check you out again,” he suggested, causing me to involuntarily scoff aloud. “Hard to believe,” I grabbed the tray of alcohol, remembering how quickly they dismissed me. “Why is that?” Kyle asked with feigned innocence before pausing and leaning his back against the counter. “You’ve got a fat ass and a nice rack,” he chuckled, giving me a second once over for the night as I practically choked on the air I was breathing in. Though I was used to Kyle’s narcissistic personality, I wasn’t used to him being so crude. At least not towards me. Any logical response I could have given him flew out the window and I stumbled for a response. “If I wasn’t holding this tray of expensive ass liquor, I would sock you one,” I retorted, before stepping down from the bar. I walked away, Kyle’s laughter echoing after me and making me self-conscious about what I might look like from behind. I started to pass booth two that was filled with laughter and talking as well as the sound of what seemed like a tv, when suddenly someone quickly emerged from behind the curtain and ran into me, causing the drink to spill all over my white shirt and the tray and glass to tumble out of my grasp. The force of the impact caused me to trip backward and fall, my head hitting the ground and instantly causing my vision to blur for a millisecond. I felt a few pieces of glass bounce against my arms and face but I couldn’t tell if the pieces were scratching me or not. I blinked a few times to clear my vision and a second or two later I was able to make out a person standing above me.  “Oh s**t,” the guy above me muttered whilst bending down over me. “Are you okay?” he asked, though his voice was almost drowned out from the cheers from booth two right next to us.  “I’m fine,” I groaned, allowing him to help me to a sitting position. I reached back and felt the back of my head, hoping I wouldn’t get a knot or anything serious. “Maybe I should call someone?” The guy said with uncertainty.  “No, really I’m-” “Esme?” Kyle’s voice spoke up from behind me. He was walking over towards me and kneeled by my side, his face the most serious I had ever seen it. “Are you okay?” he asked.  “Yeah, but I spilled booth seven’s drink,” I answered as I looked at the shattered bits of the glass around me. How the hell did it shatter on the carpet?  “It was only worth a whole paycheck,” Kyle chuckled with his usual smirk. “Let's get you up,” he said, helping me to stand. “I’ll remake booth seven’s drink and take it to them.”  “I really am so sorry,” the guy next to me said, reminding me that he was still there. I looked over and realized it was Joe who had bumped into me and who now looked to be slightly tipsy from his single mimosa. “Is there anything I can do-” “No really. I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” I laughed it off even while my head was starting to hurt. “Uh… I have an extra shirt in my car-it’s not white but it’s a black button-up if you need it…” Joe offered which moved my attention to his red cheeks. I then followed his glance to my shirt which was almost see-through from being covered in whisky and had unbuttoned at the top two buttons, allowing for my cleavage to show. “It’s okay, I have another one,” I said, crossing my arms and smiling, though now embarrassed my cleavage was showing to two guys who didn’t seem decent or capable of holding back their gazes.  “I’ll hold down the fort,” Kyle nodded. I took my que and left, heading back downstairs and towards the employee locker room while trying to cover my chest as best and as subtle as possible. I was already pretty tired when I started my shift today, but not that I fell and hit my head, I was starting to get a headache. I made my way to the locker room and quickly changed into my extra work shirt, not caring to change in the bathroom. Grabbing two Tylenol from the break room, I chugged them with some water and made my way back upstairs. I found the bar deserted, Kyle probably serving drinks, and a new order for booth one which had been empty until now. I started on the order, taking things a little more slowly and not wanting to worsen the headache until the Tylenol kicked in. Kyle eventually reappeared and started working on the now occupied booth one’s order as I started on another round of drinks for booth four. When he got back he began helping me make the drinks I was lagging on, finishing them twice as fast as I could at the moment. “You sure you’re okay Esme?” Kyle asked, though his voice was more taunting than it was concerned.  “Yea,” I sighed. “I just have a little headache now.” I helped him put all of the drinks on the tray before getting another order in for booth six. I finished the two drinks before Kyle got back and was thankful for the short break.  I pulled out my phone and started to scroll through my messages on my phone. As I was replying to the message from my best friend, Sophie, Kyle knocked his fist on the bar three times.  “There’s another order for booth seven. Why don’t you make it and take it to them?” I turned my phone off and slid it into my back pocket before starting to make the order. Did these guys plan to continue ordering one drink at a time? “Hey… Esme,” Kyle said as he walked back up to the bar. “You should take off. You don’t look good.” I almost chuckled at his choice of words but decided against it for fear of encouraging his behavior and of worsening my migraine.  “I can’t leave you here alone,” I muttered as my guilt kicked in. “Of course you can. I’ve done it to you loads of times.” And that suddenly makes it okay? Sound logic. “Plus, you can just pay me back later with a favor,” he smirked with almost an innuendo in his tone. At least I hoped that’s what it was. After a moment, Kyle spoke again with no tone of humor in his voice. “You might have a concussion.”