Louise
The club’s days and nights are two completely different worlds. No pulsing neon lights, no thumping music, no masked guests letting their wildest desires run free. Instead, the floors gleam from a fresh waxing, the air smells sweetly of lemon cleaner, and the glassware behind the bar sparkles as sunlight sneaks through the gaps in the curtains.
I stand behind the front desk, my fingers happily tracing the cool, silky marble countertop. This is my new workspace from now on. The desk itself is small but super cozy. There’s a cute brass lamp glowing warmly, a thick leather guestbook that looks like it belongs in a storybook, a sleek fountain pen, and a tiny potted plant with bright green leaves that I already want to name.
“Louise!”
Amy pops up from behind the bar, her deep-red hai
