Dance For Me

Eggshells

*Daniel POV*

"Another" Corbyn slams down his empty cup for the sixth time within the last hour.

Ever since Dove quit, Corbyn's been in a downward spiral. He hasn't stopped drinking, or killing.

Everyday it's something or someone new.

First day it was because someone looked at him funny, second day was because the coffee girl got his order wrong. Third, he almost killed Jonah, fourth, almost me.

"I think you've had enough man. It's not even noon yet" Corbyn's look on his face gives me the indication that I'll be dead on day seven.

"Does it look like I give a shit?" Corbyn snaps but I pour him another drink anyways

Even though it's eleven in the morning, the club is still open and men still pile around the main stage.

Corbyn's head snaps to the main stage when a familiar song starts playing through the speaker system. Men start getting excited, chanting her name as her song plays.

"Dove's back?" Corbyn's head whips to me before whipping back to the stage

"No?" Being just as confused as Corbyn, I watch the main stage to see who's coming out.

"I'm not a bad guy, so don't treat me bad if I'm feeling sad, right?"

I watch as Trixi struts out on stage, looking awfully damn proud to be dancing to Dove's song.

We have a rule here, you have your select songs you're allowed to dance to on stage, you're not allowed to steal other girls songs, even when they leave.

"Get her off the fucking stage. This isn't her fucking song." Corbyn grumbles as he takes his new glass of whiskey.

"Got it"

I turn around, walking over to the radio, cutting off Dove's song and I shut off the lights to the main stage.

"Sorry folks, we'll have a new dancer out for you in just a moment" I quickly announce as people start booing. I laugh, knowing they're booing Trixi, not because I cut her off.

"Get the fuck out of my face!" I turn back around in a hurry, seeing Corbyn away from the bar, getting in a gentleman's face.

I hop over the bar top and jog over to Corbyn and the middle aged man who are getting in each other's faces.

"Hit me bitch, let's go!" The blonde around the same height quickly taps his own cheek, trying to get Corbyn to punch him, but I know Corbyn would do worse.

I step between the two and push them both back away from each other.

"You, to your office and you, out of the fucking club" I point to Corbyn then to his office hallway, then to the man and the front door.

I don't need this shit right now.

Corbyn grumbles something under his breath before walking as slowly as possible to his office. The man huffs before storming out of the club.

I walk back to the bar, gripping my phone tightly and storming to Corbyn's office.

I barge into the door, slamming it shut behind me. Corbyn doesn't even pick up his head as it slams closed. He's too drunk, way too fucking early.

I sit in the shitty black leather seat across from him, and just stare. He's gotten little to no sleep, he's drunk all the damn time, and he smokes through a pack of cigarettes everyday.

That all changed once she left. When she was around, he slept more, he didn't drink to get drunk, he refused to smoke a damn cigarette.

How could one change so much in such little time? How could one change so much because of a damn stripper?