Twisted Fate

CHAPTER ONE.Aida. "Hey, Aida darling. Why don't you be a darling sweet heart and help me handle Mr. Smiths order, huh?" The sugary sweet voice of my boss, Shane, reaches my ears. I resisted the urge to groan at his words and instead plastered an equally fake smile on my face as I resisted to Mr. Smiths table to follow my boss' orders. There is nothing worse than being the one assigned to serving Mr. Smith, or Mr. Hands, as most of the girls, including me, call him. He couldn't place a single order to save his life without being all handsy on whoever was serving him, not excluding the male staff at the bar, sadly. Being the one to take Mr. Smith's order is going to be a nightmare, that much I am aware of, and he isn't even the best tipper, especially if you don't let him grope you. Something I don't intend on letting happen. I might be a poor nobody in this big city, but I am no one's w***e, especially not some douchebag like Mr. Smith's. I took slow and steady steps towards his unusually crowded table. It's not unusual for Mr. Smith to have company at his table, plus he's one of our biggest customers, so we are mainly used to hosting his business partners whenever he has them here, but today seems a bit different. The first sign of how different today is, is the way Mr. Smith looks. Unlike his usually cocky looking self, he actually looks demure and solemn, likes he's refraining from doing anything that could land him in serious trouble. I've known the man for more than six months now, since working at Incognito, and I can confidently say not a lot of things scared Mr. Smith. The man seemed larger than life itself and I got a little bit of pleasure seeing him all shaken up. I place a real smile on my face this time when I get to his table. "Hello, what can I get you?" I asked in my sweetest voice. The look Mr. Smith gives me is one of confusion. Okay, maybe he knows how much I despise him so me smiling at him isn't exactly an every day activity. "I didn't call for you, I'll call when I want to order." He replies gruffly. The smile falls off my face. Of course, the man would still be a douche to me. To anyone, Mr. Smith's behavior may look like annoyance at the bar's services but really he's just a cocky asshole with extreme mommy issues bordering along the lines of pure misogyny. I couldn't care less anyway, let that be the problem of whoever is unfortunate enough to end up with him. I huff internally and begin to make my way back to the counter. Next time he places an order, I definitely won't be the one serving him. "You are definitely a sight for sore eyes." The thick voice of a man calls to me making me freeze on the spot. I turn back ever so slowly as if afraid I could be hearing things and what my eyes land on makes me believe I just might be hallucinating after all. Now, I am a normal hormonal woman, and even I know when what I'm seeing is Gods ideal creation. The man sitting languid and spread on the too small chair of the bar has the kind of presence that makes the hair at the back of your neck prickle with awareness. He is all male- there's no doubt about that, but something about him speaks way more than the eyes could see. He has the darkest grey eyes I've ever seen that makes his cropped brown hair look a bit mismatched on his head. With eyes that dark and peculiar you'd except raven curls to follow but no, this man has the shiniest looking brown hair I've set my eyes on. With a tall imposing frame that let you know he could brew the worst form of trouble to anyone who stepped in his path. I take an involuntary step back. His skin looks like he's seen way too much sunlight for his own good giving him a sun-drenched color. I could only imagine him to be the type of man who went on monthly vacations quite frequently then, to get a skin like that. If I knew him personally I'd advice him to take a break on the vacations. He'd already crossed the thin line between a tan and sunburn but I keep my mouth shut instead. This man might have an appealing look to himself, but he is friends with Mr. Smith and nothing good comes out of the likes of someone like that man. If he is friends with him, then he's probably equal part scum and I shouldn't entertain him. But what if he's not? A tiny voice in my head asks me. I shake my head, no. This time I turn my attention to the man who spoke to me and give him my most fake smile, "Would you like to order anything, sir?" I try not to glance at his clothes but I can't. They scream money and luxury. He is definitely loaded and I could do for a great tip tonight. "Well, if you're on the menu then of course I'm ordering." He half says, half bellows out and all the men at the table burst into laughter like he's said some great joke. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I was right, he is just as much male scum as Mr. Smith. Maybe even more. The smile I'm struggling to keep in place slips a little. "Could I get you gentlemen some drinks?" Maybe if I remind him that he is supposed to be a gentle man, he'd surprise me and act like one. But I can't be that lucky, can I? "Don't worry, baby girl. Why don't you come sit here," He pats his buff legs as he speaks, two bulky muscles encased in dark blue trousers, "Right here on my lap, and I'll order something for both of us. Maybe after the night is over you could join me and get some heavy tipping. What do you say, huh?" He winks in the kind of gross way that perverted men do. I feel like gagging and by now I can't for the life of me, even pretend to smile. "If you won't be ordering anything, sir. I'd have to leave." I say with a straight face. He could do so much better as a person if he had his mouth closed honestly. I could even pretend he isn't the rude jerk he clearly is, and some handsome stranger. He gives me a fake pout as I make a move to go, stretching his large hands out to grab my elbows, as if reminding me that with the size difference he could snap them in halves in the blink of an eye. "Now, come on woman. We all know you have a price. Come on, name it, and I'll double it. You must not have heard about me, I am-" I cut him off by yanking my arm out of his grip. What I really want to do is smack him across the face or something but I'm smarter than that. Shane would have my ass if I did that, and experience has taught me that the men would only get more violent if I tried to retaliate. "No, thank you. I am not interested." I pin him with a cold glare and walk away from him briskly. I don't bother waiting to hear whatever retort he tries to throw at me and I can barely hear the laughter of his friends as I stump away, but I am done for today. There's so much bullshit a person can take before she finally snaps right? And I'm one more bullshit away from snapping right now. "Ah, Aida darling, who got you all riled up my sweet heart?" Shane appears at the doorway as I stomp angrily into the kitchen area. I quickly take off my apron and hang it on the stand where it usually is, barely concealing my fury as I make to grab my bag and head out. Shane's hands come to grab mine and I barely miss them. "Talk to me, darling. Is it Handsy again? Tell me, I'll tell him off for good this time, sweet heart." His remorse and pity moves me greatly. Most people don't appreciate being pitied in life but not me. Really, I know how pitiful my life is so why ask people not to pity me? Its not enough that I'm some lonely girl in this big city crawling with mobsters and the likes, I also have to work more than six jobs a day to carter for me and my drunk gambling father. A man who would rather starve or kill himself with alcohol poisoning than go out to work for his only child. Not like I can blame him anyway, I might have a father but I could as well be an orphan since the man I call my father hates me more than anything in this world. If I can remember most of his drunk ramblings correctly, he'd always wanted a son, and it didn't help that I ended up being born a girl, I also had to be the child whose birth took his wife's life. So of course Timothy Brookes, my only family in the entire world hates me more than anything. But no matter how much he pushes me away and breaks me down with the most hurtful words, words I try to shove off me like they don't matter even if they hurt me the most, I would always be there to take care of him. Now and forever, because he is still my father, no matter what. Sometimes family are the ones who hurt us the most but what can we really do? They're family after all and they're still all we have. Especially for someone like me, working till late into the night despite knowing that I'm putting myself at great risk by doing this. Anyone could follow me outside, attack me and worse still take advantage of me, but I'm not one with a lot of choices anyway. "I promise I'm fine, Shane. I don't have any more orders to take and Mia is here for her shift. I should probably start heading home. You know Pa is there all alone." I reply with a quiet sniffle. Shane might dabble into business with some of the worlds shadiest people while showing them the exterior of some tough guy but I know the real Shane. The one who has seen darkness and wouldn't want it inflicted on anyone. People who've experienced real pain never want others in their shoes, ever. He gives me a disbelieving look but doesn't bother trying to question me any further. l like that about Shane, he knows boundaries and understands them. "Alright then, darling. You can leave. Be safe, and make sure you have your spray tightly in hand." He gives me a serious look and I nod with a warm smile. If I had a big brother, I'd want him to be like Shane. "Good night, Shane." "Good night, Aida darling." He replies as I head out of the bar. The almost dim lights of the board atop the bar lights my path. The words 'Incognito' stare at me like sad eyes and I shake away the nervous feeling crawling up my chest. I pause and take my pepper spray out of my bag, looking around me one more time before I continue in the direction of my house. I would take a cab home no matter how much it costs honestly if there are any cabs at this time of the night, but they aren't. The roads are empty and solemn- the perfect time for some mugger to make a hit for me, and the thought causes me to tighten my hand around the bottle of pepper spray, my usual nightly armor. The skin at the back of my neck prickles with awareness as I walk home, and my mind involuntarily darts back to the man from the bar. Memories of his dark grey eyes cause me to halt for a moment before I shake the feeling off and continue on my way. There was just something about his eyes that gave the feeling of evil. He could fool anyone with his overall appearance but his eyes gave him away, they were too dark, held too much secrets, unbidden evil that anyone could see if they really looked at him. But I have a feeling not a lot of people bother trying to look into his ghastly eyes. I shiver at the memory of them on me, and this causes me to loose way too much focus on the road ahead, more importantly on the man who darts out of some dark alleyway and stops directly in front of me. I'm so surprised by this that my body propels forward and I almost land face first on the ground. Thankfully, the man who startled me, reaches for me to stop me from falling but unluckily, the movement jerks me so much that I lose my grip on my pepper spray can and send it flying forward, far away from me. "Well well well. What do we have here?" The man whose hands are still on me finally peers into my face while licking his lips slowly. s**t, I'm totally screwed.