Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Landon

Listen to Me and My Girls

by Selina Gomez

I headed out of my apartment building, jumped into my Uber, and rode downtown to the Chelsea district. When I arrived at Red, there was already a line out the door. I knew most guests wouldn’t get in since reservations were booked out for months. In a city full of Michelin star restaurants and hot clubs, Red was a mix of both, but for the younger crowd.

Converted from an old warehouse in Soho, the place had been the best kept secret until the New York Times did a piece on the hip, hot, single crowd and Red was featured. A combination of gourmet pub food, high art, and an after-hours night club drew in an eclectic crowd, but it became best known for the private clientele past midnight.

Three nights per week, the club closed for an invite only party. Shrouded in secrecy, I knew it was pretty much a fancy sex club for the rich and famous, but no one knew many details. The staff who worked it were kept separate and never gossiped. After the article, Red became the most talked-about place in the city.

A big win for me. My salary tripled, and my waitress job turned into a profitable hustle I intended to ride out.

I walked into the separate door marked for staff, enjoying the sense of exclusivity working at Red gave me. The girls waiting on line looked at me with sheer envy, their hungry gazes taking me in and judging my looks and style within seconds.

I always passed muster, and was dismissed quickly as too much competition. Most women left me alone and rarely challenged my ranking in groups. It was another benefit to my looks.

Sometimes, I wondered what would happen if I lost my beauty, but then quickly dismissed the worry. I needed constant perfection in the career I’d chosen and I’d do whatever was needed.

I made my way to the back of the restaurant, greeting people along the way. Red was set up so a customer walked into the main dining area, which was decorated with red chairs, roomy booths, an open kitchen, and a display of artwork adorning the lipstick red walls. Local artists showed off their wares, from bold watercolors, metal sculptures, to ceramics. It always gave me an impression of walking into a trendy art gallery but you got to eat, drink, and admire the scenery. The ceilings were high and an array of twisted chandeliers in different materials like wood, copper, and glass hung in scattered intervals.

The lounge was attached, where appetizers and cocktails were served. A giant bar with a blue stone countertop snaked around the wall and low-slung red couches and chairs catered to the late-night crowd. A stage was set up for live bands and DJs with themed club nights. The dance floor was small and always packed. More art was hung in the lounge, mostly naked statues and erotic paintings, giving it a naughty vibe everyone loved. I’d seen some of the stuff that happened on the dance floor, and it was an eye opener. Even though I didn’t work in the private club, confidentiality was a huge thing for the servers, and I was pretty used to seeing couples going at it, probably hoping to get caught. Now, I barely blinked and kept shuffling drinks.

After clocking in for my shift, I began set up, consisting of polishing silverware, folding napkins, checking condiments, and a bunch of other useless tasks I hated. My favorite part of my job revolved around one thing: tips. I made a killing most nights and had scored a few contacts along the way that led to booking jobs. Max hated it, of course, he was super possessive, but I needed to use anything I had to get noticed. The competition was fierce—everyone was fighting to get work in the same industry. New York was a bitch: moody, temperamental, running hot and cold. One moment, I was giddy and feeling successful, the next I was depressed I’d never fulfill my dreams in a city that was overstuffed with beauty, talent, wealth, and luck.

I checked my phone quickly to see if I got a callback but nothing yet.

“Hey, boo, what’s up?”

My bestie, Elle, bumped my shoulder in greeting and grabbed a stack of napkins. “You’re late,” I teased. “Rock’s gonna give you shit.”

She rolled her big dark eyes. “Rock gives everyone shit. If only he knew how bad I wanted to quit, but I need a regular paycheck. I can’t seem to get a gig that lasts more than a day as an extra. It’s pissing me off.”

I nodded in sympathy. Elle was an actress—a good one—but there were a million good actresses here. She worked her ass off with auditions and had scored a few, but nothing mainstream. Elle had the perfect look for the camera. Her long dark hair was rich and shiny, and her face was heart shaped, with big brown eyes and gorgeous olive skin. She had naturally Botox lips and a slamming body, tall and willowy and graceful. We were the perfect complement to each other and always turned heads. It was the same with our personalities. I tended to be the leader, more vocal and animated, where she was introspective and happy to move in whatever direction I wanted. We’d graduated from NYU together, applied to Red together, and now worked together. Max and Cooper were also best friends, and Noah and Daisy’s chill vibes balanced us out. We were the cool kids at Red. It was rare I’d allow an outsider to penetrate my circle. We were exclusive for a reason.

If only Adam wasn’t a part of the circle, everything would be perfect. But he was tight with Max and Cooper and I was stuck with him.

I focused on Elle. “I’m sure you’ll get something soon. You just need the right part and you’ll be out of here. Don’t get famous without me, though.”

She laughed. “I’d never leave you. How was the reality show test?”

“Still waiting. We’re still hitting Whispers after work, right?” Even in New York, too many places closed when we were getting off our shift, but Whispers was a late night bar popular with wait staff. The cocktails were plentiful, the music was good, and we were regulars so they usually tried to hold a table for us.

“Yeah, Cooper will meet us. Is Max working tonight?”

“Supposed to, but he’s running late again.” I thought over our recent sex with a satisfied smile. We had great chemistry together, even if things had gotten a bit stale. Sure, he always gave me an orgasm, and I was super attracted to him, but there was this weird nagging in my gut that was starting to bother me. As if something was missing but I couldn’t figure out what it was. We were a power couple and happy. I know he loved me. Hell, even better? He kind of worshipped me. He hated when I was mad at him and even though he screwed up a few times in the past, I knew he’d always be at my door, begging forgiveness, willing to do whatever necessary to get me back. I liked the control I had over him and our relationship. I needed it.

Trust was everything to me, and though it was easy to find a hot guy to sleep with, it seemed impossible to find a guy who actually wanted to commit, even short term. Not that I was focused on settling down—I was way too young to think about marriage or kids yet—but I did crave company. I hated being alone. I knew that wasn’t a good thing, but the longer I was without a guy in my life, I began to second guess myself and my confidence. I also had a high sex drive, and I wasn’t into quick hookups. There was something about feeling valued and wanted in a relationship, knowing I was the only one.

Yeah. I was fucked up. Overall, Max was good for me. We were good together. I definitely needed him to eventually step up with his career and not rely on being a bartender—he didn’t have a bachelor’s degree like me. He’d struggled in school and didn’t want to be stuck in a classroom after high school, so he’d dug into bartending and the gym. He told me he dreamt of being a full-time trainer where his hours were flexible and he was his own boss. But he was so damn good looking, he’d fallen into modeling easily for extra money.

I nibbled my lip as I folded napkins, falling silent. I was probably frustrated over stuff going on with me, not us. Most of us were working at Red to fund our artistic interests.

What I really needed was a break. If I got the reality show, my brand would explode and I wouldn’t have to worry about working here or booking boring modeling jobs.

It wasn’t fair for me to blame Max for my restlessness. I’d worked hard to create a persona of Queen bitch so no one knew I was really a mess inside. I had a crapload of issues to work out, mostly from my parents. I came from money which funded my cushy education and sky-high apartment rent, so I owned my privilege and didn’t pretend I had it hard.

What I didn’t talk about?

My cheating ass father who had another family and my alcoholic mother who was destroyed by his actions.

Max and Elle knew a bit, but I kept most of the details tight. I refused to be a poor little rich girl—it was way too cliché and I despised a cliché.

Elle snapped her fingers, startling me out of my thoughts. “Where’d you go? Back to your hot sex escapades with Max?”

I forced a smile. I was damn happy in my relationship and needed to stop picking at it. “Oh, please. You and Cooper practically banged in the bathroom last weekend. I didn’t know he was into the getting caught kink.”

She blushed, which made me crack up. Guys were addicted to Elle because of her good girl mystique. She was a walking contradiction of sex and virginity and her tips were as high as mine. Elle was the only one I didn’t mind sharing bottle service with because we’d perfected our sales pitch and never had an off night. “Stop! It’s not like that. We were pretty drunk.”

I snorted. “When aren’t we on a Saturday night? How are things with you guys?”

She gave a half shrug. Her long hair swished over her shoulders. “Good. We’re talking about moving in together but it’s hard finding a decent place. Coop wants somewhere with decent light and space for his photography, and space around here is impossible to get.”

New York was a bitch to live in, even though I couldn’t imagine myself anywhere else. Most of us had roommates or tiny studios packed with clothes racks and no kitchen. Still, we didn’t need a car and it was the best place to book a modeling or acting job. LA was way too fake for any of us, even though if we got a movie deal, we’d go to Siberia. Or Greenland. I always got mixed up on which was the worst.

“Are you both getting serious?” I asked, arching my brow.

“Well, we’ve been dating as long as you and Max. I think it’s time to see if we can move forward. Have you thought about it?”

My goal was the same as Elle’s, but even though I loved Max, the idea of giving up my privacy made me hesitate. And if Coop moved out, Max wouldn’t be able to afford the place without a roommate, so we may end up forced to live together. My vision was to take the next step once our careers were solid. “Yeah, we mentioned it a few times. But the idea of me having to share my bathroom gives me hives.”

She laughed. “Don’t blame you. Sometimes, I think it’s everyone constantly pushing at us. We’re only twenty-four and I’m sick of feeling like my life is half over. It’s all screwed up.”

I took in her frustration and something else in her dark eyes—a hungry glint that I recognized perfectly. We both wanted to succeed so badly it overtook everything else, but at least we both had good boyfriends by our side as we figured it out. I needed to stop questioning everything and go with the flow more.

“Fuck ‘em,” I said, bumping her hips playfully.

“Fuck who?”

I turned at the familiar voice and my smile disappeared.

Gabriella stood by us, cocking her head as if she had a right to be included in our convo. She was new to Red, and I’d disliked her on sight. I knew her type immediately, especially after I caught her flirting big-time with Max behind the bar. She knew Max wasn’t single, but didn’t seem to care, all touchy-feely and sticking her tits in his face. Even worse? She viewed herself as an influencer and had more followers than me. Of course, I knew why. I wasn’t about to post a bunch of half-naked pics online just to get noticed. She was…trashy. Her bright red hair, green eyes, and double DD breasts were ridiculously common. Rumors spread she was banging one of the managers and that’s how she got the job.

I wasn’t surprised. She’d been sniffing around our group and targeted Max as the weak link to entry. I’d already schooled him on not interacting with her, but he said he couldn’t ignore her at work.

Elle shot me a look and remained quiet, giving me the lead. I spoke up. “Nothing. Why are you here? Thought you were on the schedule for Sunday?”

“I’m covering Maya’s shift. Who are you fucking?”

I ignored her and began stacking the utensil rolls in the bin. “Just our boyfriends. Something you wouldn’t know about,” I said sweetly.

Elle smothered a laugh.

Gabriella either didn’t care or didn’t get the insult. “I’m on section three so let me know if I can help out. I won’t get busy till late when the Madison Square Garden concert is out.”

“We don’t need any help.”

“Well, just yell if you do,” she said, her fake smile in place. I figured it was fake because my disdain was pretty evident. Another woman would have scurried away in fear, but she kept showing up.

“We won’t. But you can finish up here.” I grabbed Elle’s hand and walked away.

“Harsh,” Elle said. She hated conflict so I always had to protect her from the leeches.

“Necessary. She was all over Max last weekend so I know her game. Trust me, Coop can be next. No one’s safe, she’s a slut.”

“Ugh, you know I hate slut shaming,” Elle said with a groan.

“Sluts are empowering as long as you’re not stealing other people’s boyfriends,” I pointed out.

Elle laughed. “Okay, I can get on board with that.”

Our shift was beginning in a few so I shoved the annoying Gabriella out of my head and put my game face on. The work was hell on the feet and the arms, but worth the money and attention. “Good. My goal is twenty more good followers so keep me in the loop if anyone has potential at your tables.”

“Always.”

I blew her a kiss and got ready to dazzle. I saw Max safely behind the bar, prepping for the crowds. He caught my eye and smiled, and I was reminded again why I was with him. There was a sweetness underneath all that swagger. I needed to focus more on our relationship so I could get over this strange restlessness.

Everyone’s shifts ended at 1am, and that’s when the real fun started. My crew and I had our favorite haunts to blow off steam—cool bars that stayed open till 4am, and a breakfast dive where we gathered in our favorite booths to fill up before collapsing into sleep.

Anyone who believed the worst things happened in the middle of the night was dead wrong.

In our world, that’s when all the good stuff started, and tonight was no exception.

I just wasn’t ready for the eventual fallout, but if I’d known, would things have been different?

Maybe.

Then again, maybe not.