"I'm about to quit."

I glance up from counting my tips and raise a brow at Sidney in amusement.

"No you're not."

She flops down on the other side of the booth I'm sitting in, sighing loudly. "I know I'm not. But sometimes I wish I could."

I fold the small wad of dollar bills in my hand and grimace. "We just consecutively served thirty customers and I have a grand total of seven bucks in my hand. I wish I could quit too."

Sidney snorts and leans her head against the back of the booth, thumping her fist against the table.

"Its bullshit. The next person to give me a 75 cent tip is getting my foot up their ass."

"I won't stop you," I tell her, standing up and stretching my back.

RJ's is barren and quiet, which isn't unusual since the lunch rush ended about thirty minutes ago. Speaking of the lunch rush--it was a fucking mess. One of the cooks called out so orders were backed up more than usual. A new waitress with absolutely zero experience was just hired and approximately four dishes were broken.

And the customers were extra rude and stingy today because of it.

I walk around the long counter and grab a newspaper and a Sharpie from underneath it, deciding to take advantage of the silence and finish my job search.

"I'm telling you," Sidney speaks up from the booth, "stripping isn't as bad as it sounds. My cousin Lana makes good money."

I furrow my brows and look over at her. "Isn't her club the one that was surrounded by the feds last month? Some drug-bust operation gone wrong?"

Sidney pauses and purses her lips in contemplation. "Wait, was it?" she asks. I shake my head as she pulls her phone from her apron and begins tapping away, presumably checking in with Lana for confirmation.

I sigh as I look back down at the newspaper spread open in front of me. Finding a job that doesn't require a degree of some kind is hard. So far I've got "part-time nanny" and a cashier position at a frozen yogurt place circled in red. Not ideal, but better than nothing.

The distinct sound of the bell above the front door of RJ's chimes throughout the restaurant. I spin around on the tall barstool and almost fall over when I glance over and see whose standing in the doorway.

The manager of Vice.

Also known as the way-too attractive guy that turned me down when I trespassed into his club and demanded a job. That manager.

He's not alone. There's an equally attractive guy standing beside him. They share similar features; both insanely tall, tousled dark hair, and dark stubble lining their jaws. The only difference is that the guy I've never seen before doesn't have both arms covered in ink.

Hot manager guy and I make eye-contact, and I'm quiet as I watch him and his friend take a seat at a booth in the far corner. I glance over at Sidney and for some reason my cheeks flush crimson when she mouths holy shit at me.

I make my way over to the booth oh-so conveniently placed in my section and grab my pad and pen from my apron. The manager looks up from the menu in front of him and slowly rakes his eyes over my frazzled frame.

I clear my throat and ask, "You guys ready to order?"

The friend speaks first. A simple order of a double cheeseburger with a side of onion rings. My hand shakes slightly as I write his request in the tiny margin of my notepad.

I glance up and raise a brow at the manager, silently asking him to place his order. I hold my breath when he finally does, a husky "I'll have the same" leaving his lips and catching me off guard.

Holy shit, this guy. There's something about him that causes me to completely lose my composure when I'm around him. That unnerves me.

"Anything to drink?" I ask.

After jotting down their drink selections, I nod and briskly walk away from their table, finally allowing myself a moment to breathe after I've reached through the window and handed the tiny piece of paper to Anthony.

Sidney rushes to my side immediately, quietly firing off a slew of "Did you see them?" and "If I wasn't with Lincoln.."

I'm quiet as I hastily reach over and snatch the newspaper off the counter, clumsily shoving it into the cubby underneath. For some reason, I felt almost embarrassed that he walked in as I was job hunting. Which both confused me and pissed me off. I usually could care less what someone thought of me, but... I don't even know. Like I said, there's something about him.

I nonchalantly turn my back to their table and busy myself with grabbing two glasses and scoop ice into them. Peeking over at Sidney, I catch her eye and quietly ask her, "Remember when you and Linc drove me to that expensive club last week? The tall guy with the tattoos is the manager of that place. He was the one I left my resume with."

Her eyes widen as she sneakily glances over at their table.

"How weird is it that you'd never seen him before, and today he just waltzes into RJ's looking like the father of my unborn children?"

"Tell me about it," I murmur quietly. I excuse myself and take their drinks to their table, their hushed conversation suspiciously coming to an abrupt halt once they see me approaching.

I muster up a small, forced smile, and tell them, "I'll be back with your food in a few minutes."

As I go to turn away, the manager's voice stops me.

"Do you have a minute?" he asks.

I narrow my eyes in confusion. "Uh, sure."

He clasps both hands together and rests his arms on the table, the motion causing his tight black t-shirt to strain against his thick arms. "You came to my club asking about a job.. are you still interested in that?"

I'm stunned as I mull his words over. There is no way in hell he's saying what I think he's saying.

"Yeah, I.. if there's a waitressing position available, then yes I'm interested." I tell him.

He nods and pauses briefly before saying, "One of my servers was fired this morning. She was scheduled for a nine to three shift tonight. If you want it, the job is yours."

Holy fuck.

"Are you serious? Just like that?" I ask.

He smirks and leans back in his seat. "Your resume was a mile long and your references were pretty impressive. You look like you know what you're doing."

He's not wrong. I've served alcohol and greasy food for years. I do know what I'm doing.

"I don't even know your name," I tell him.

He raises a brow at me and unclasps his hands, holding one out towards me. "Austin Delaney. Manager of Vice," he pauses, "so, Aria, am I hiring you or what?"

I confidently place my hand in his, warmth sweeping my body. "Yeah," I say, "you are."

——

It's 8PM when my cab drops me off in front of Vice. I'm dressed in a tight black t-shirt, black jeans and my signature converse, and my dark hair is in a messy ponytail.

I decided to go a little heavy with the makeup tonight, and I'm happy with the way it turned out. I'm not skilled in makeup whatsoever, but I've somehow managed to create a dark smokey-eye that makes my green eyes more vibrant, and a dark red lipstick coats my lips and ties the sultry look together.

I've seen the lines that wrap around this place and I've heard about the tips the waitresses make here. If showing a little cleavage and enhancing my features ensures more money in my pocket, then I have no problem with it.

While I've never waitressed in a club as nice as Vice, I've worked my fair share of bars, and I know what makes a man want to give you every bill in his wallet. I'm not worried about handling myself. I just hope that this time I can manage to hold off on knocking a sleazy fucker off his stool if he gets any ideas.

I walk around to the side entrance that I'm all too familiar with. A line has already formed at the front of the building and a tall, beefy bald guy stands guard in front of the forming queue.

The inside of the extravagant club is dark and quiet. Unlike last time, there are no chairs stacked on the tables or the round bar. I spot Austin talking quietly to a small group of people dressed in all black, same as me, and begin making my way towards him.

"Hey," he says when he sees me approaching, "you'll be working tables 10-16 upstairs tonight." He motions to the winding staircase to the right of the bar.

"Kaia will serve upstairs with you. Erin will serve down here tonight," he gestures to a tall blonde and a short redhead, "and Wyatt and Lucas will man the bar."

I nod at him, briefly scanning the people he mentioned and hoping I can remember their names.

"I know it's a lot to take in, but Kaia will be upstairs with you and will help you if you have any questions."

I nod again, too overwhelmed to speak.

He dips his head to the staircase and I follow after him.

"It's more tame up here. These tables have to be reserved in advance, and they're more expensive to get." he says.

The upstairs of Vice is much more spacious than downstairs. There are round booths, big couches, and another small bar off to the side. The entire essence of the upstairs platform screams I have money.

He turns around to face me and crosses his arms. "You think you can handle it?" he asks.

I take a deep breath and square my shoulders back.

"Lets do this."

——