3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Talia

An hour earlier

Making my way through the crowded dance floor, I slip down the hallway and into the changing room. A few cocktail waitresses are chatting and changing into their work uniforms. Judy makes a beeline for me.

"You have the back room tonight. What did you do to get that gig?" Judy asks snarkily.

"I guess Phil wanted a waitress with class," I reply, smirking. Judy's face turns bright red as she stomps away.

Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I open my locker and push in my backpack. It's only my third night of working at Echo, and Judy has been a pain in the ass for the first two. She hits on every customer, whether single or not, and tries to steal the other waitresses' tables. She tried that shit with me on my first night and quickly found out that I'm no pushover. She's been snarky with me since.

I slip out of my street clothes and quickly change into my work uniform. Closing the top button of my black vest, I check my appearance in the mirror. My short shorts fit like a glove, and my breasts are voluptuous. I've always been blessed with more than a handful, and I can't imagine them getting any bigger as my pregnancy progresses. I slip on my black heels and close my locker. A quick touch-up of my lipstick, and I'm ready.

I feel the music's bass vibrating off the walls the closer I get to the bar. Skirting around a group of women sipping on the bartender's latest fruity creation, I squeeze through the crowd to get closer to the bartender. Joy was the bartender the last two nights, but I didn't see her tonight. A tall, thin, blonde-haired man is pouring drinks and chatting with a brunette cocktail waitress. I take her spot at the bar when she's finished loading drinks onto her tray.

"Hi," I say loudly. It'll be a miracle if he can hear me over the music.

"Hi yourself. I'm Chris. You must be new here." He smiles genuinely, cleaning the shiny bar with a rag.

"I'm Talia. I was assigned to the back room tonight." I rub my wrist nervously, my thumb circling my small black bird tattoo. I wish Sandy were working tonight.

"Wow! I'm impressed. Phil doesn't usually give new girls that assignment."

Apparently, working in the back room is a huge deal. Chris leans his elbows on the bar, leaning forward as if he's about to hear top-secret information. I hate disappointing him, but I don't know why I was given the back room.

"I'm Sandy's sister." It's the only thing I can think of. A pink blush runs up my face, heating my cheeks.

"Well, that might be true, but you're gorgeous! I'm not surprised Phil has you working a room full of men. There's nothing better than being served by a stunner," he states, giving me a wink.

"Thank you," I reply sheepishly. I suddenly feel incredibly self-conscious. Most days, I still feel like the awkward, skinny little girl I was growing up. "Can you tell me where I'm supposed to go?"

Pointing to his left, he quickly gave me instructions. "Go down this hallway until you reach the black door with the gold star. Joey will let you in. Tony will be behind the bar tonight. It's exclusively for our VIP guests."

Giving him a quick nod of thanks, I adjusted my vest and made my way through the crowd to the black door with the gold star. I feel like I'm about to walk into an alternate universe. Taking a deep breath helps steady my nerves. I push the doorbell button once, and a blue eye peers out of a peephole.

"Name?" he asks in a gravelly voice.

"Talia," I reply, wishing I felt as confident as I sound. A burly man opens the door, giving me a quick once over. He steps aside to let me through the doorway. "Arms out," he instructs.

"Oh, okay," I stutter. I put my arms out as if I'm about to take flight. Starting at my shoulders, he pats his way down my body, feeling for…weapons? What have I gotten myself into?

Seeing the alarm on my face, he gives me a tight smile. "You're new here."

"Yes," I mutter. Stepping away from him, I glance around the room. The walls are velvety black with minute silver specks. They look like tiny jewels sparkling in the night. Four red leather oversized chairs sit on a faux white fur rug in a circular group. A round glass coffee table is set in the middle. A white leather sofa sectional is placed to the right, and a white marble bar is to the left. A hallway runs behind the bar to more rooms.

"Everyone gets patted down," he states. "Phone," he demands, holding out his hand. I pull my cell phone out of my back pocket and hand it to him. "I'm Joey. You'll be serving our VIPs. They'll be in the poker room down the hall. Tony is behind the bar. He'll hold your phone until your shift is over."

I nod in understanding. Joey sits at the bar, sipping on a club soda and watching a football game on the oversized flat screen hung on the wall behind Tony.

"Hi," Tony greets. He smiles broadly, showcasing a row of sparkling white teeth. "Is this your first night?"

"No, it's my third," I reply, trying not to look frazzled. "But I'm not new to this kind of work. I waitressed in San Francisco."

"The VIPs can be a little intense, but they're great tippers."

I'm tempted to ask him if they're all mobsters, but I bite my tongue instead. "I'm sure I can handle them."

"That's the spirit!" Tony praises. "Head down the hallway to the third door on the left. If you need a quick break, there's a small kitchen on the right just before the office."

"Thanks, Tony." Pulling my shoulders back, I adjust my cleavage and begin down the long hallway. To my immediate right are restrooms, and to the left is a small room with a grey leather sofa, a few plush velvet chairs, and a large cigar humidor cabinet flush against the wall.

A few more steps down the hallway, I pass the kitchen and office before stopping in front of the poker room. Glancing toward the end of the hallway, I see it intersecting like a ‘T' with a more extended hallway. I see an emergency exit to the left and a few rooms to the right. It appears there is another hallway past those rooms. This space is much larger than I thought. I expected a single room for the VIPs, but this is like a second club.

I head back to the poker room and put on my best waitress smile. As I open the door, I'm greeted by a spicy aroma similar to nutmeg with hints of black tea. Five men in tailor-made suits sit around a poker table, three puffing on fat cigars. I nod to the two burly men standing in the room's corners, then greet the men at the table. "Good evening. My name is Talia, and I'll be your waitress tonight. Can I get you gentlemen anything to drink?"

"Gentlemen?" a fat, balding man laughs. "You must be new around here," he teases.

"I might be new to this establishment, but I can see you need another glass of whiskey." I smile politely, picking up his nearly empty glass.

A younger man with dark brown hair and a crooked front tooth narrows his eyes, glancing at me suspiciously. "How did you know he was drinking whiskey?"

All the men turn to look at me. "You have a beer in front of you, and it looks like the man next to you is drinking vodka or gin since it's a clear liquid. These men don't have drinks in front of them," I state, pointing to the two men across the table. "There's a nearly empty whiskey bottle on the table in the corner of the room. This is the only other glass on the table. It has a small amount of brown liquor, so I assumed it was whiskey."

"Wow, beautiful and smart," an older man with silver hair compliments.

"Thank you," I reply, masking my emotions to hide my insecurity. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Vodka, neat." He is staring at my breasts and licking his lips like he's about to have me for dinner.

A younger man with raven-black hair and deep blue eyes sits beside the silver fox. He smiles and asks for a single malt bourbon in a sexy Russian accent. After taking the rest of their orders, I leave the room to get the drinks.

After an hour of delivering drinks to the high rollers, hearing every pick-up line you can imagine, and feeling like I'm the main item on the menu tonight, I need a break.

"Tony, I'm going to take a break." I wipe down the serving tray and leave it on the end of the bar.

"Sure thing, doll. Take fifteen minutes, and I'll cover the poker room." He gives me a wink and a smile, pouring himself a beer. He's chatting with Joey about the football game they're watching as I begin the walk down the hallway toward the restroom.

Pulling my hair back with a black hair tie, I turn down the adjacent hallway. Muffled male voices are coming from a small room to the right of the restroom. It sounds like they are arguing. I slow my steps down as I get closer to the door. I hear one man accusing the other man of stealing money.

I quiet my steps and peek through the doorway, which is cracked open an inch. I don't recognize a man pointing a gun at the young raven-haired man from the poker room. "We've given you enough time," the man spews. "It's time to pay up."

"I've given you half. You'll get the rest next week," the raven-haired man argues.

"You lose more than you win. And tonight, you're losing Mr. Lupani's money. Pay up, now. " He screws a silencer on the end of the gun and pushes it into the raven-haired man's chest. The raven-haired man doesn't seem frightened. Instead, he gets angry… very angry.

"Do you know who I am, mudak ? If I say I'll pay you next week, I'll pay you next week," he spits through clenched teeth. "Tell your boss he'll just have to wait."

"And I'm supposed to believe you? You're nothing but a drunk loser. Do you think Mr. Lupani is your wallet? You're just one of many losers that he loans money to. Keep pissing me off, and I'll add another ten percent on top of the five percent interest you owe. Now, pay up! " He hits the raven-haired man on the side of the head with the gun. Before he can hit him again, the raven-haired man grabs the gun. They struggle, each trying to get control. In the blink of an eye, the raven-haired man stops struggling, his eyes going wide as saucers. Backing away, he looks down at his chest, where a crimson circle forms on his white silk dress shirt. He falls to his knees, clutching his chest.

I let out a yelp, taking a step back from the door. Oh my god, oh my god. He shot him. He just shot him. The man holding the gun snaps his head around, peering through the crack of the open doorway. He's looking right at me. He takes a step toward the door, and I panic. My instincts kick in; it's fight or flight time. I choose flight.

Running as fast as I can, I fly down the hallway. I chance a quick look behind me, but I don't see the man, although that doesn't slow me down. He saw me, or at least I think he did, and I'm not sticking around to see what else will happen. Turning the corner, I pull off my high heels and keep running until I see the emergency exit ahead. Pushing open the door I run into a dirty alley behind the club. I run until I reach the street where cars are whizzing by.

Ducking into a twenty-four-hour grocery store, I dared to release the breath I had been holding in. Instinctively, I reached for my cell phone to call Sandy, only to realize my street clothes, backpack, and cell phone are still at the club. Fucking hell. I have no money and no phone. Rubbing the tattoo on my wrist, I try to calm down. Now, what do I do?