The East Side

Chapter 1

I slipped the wig off and shook my head, finally feeling free. I looked in the mirror. Gone was the shy, studious girl who looked like she'd faint if anyone mentioned grape juice. The bartender staring back at me had short hair that faded from blue to purple and was wearing dangerously low-cut clothes. I ruffled my real hair one last time to give it volume, turning to look at my side profile. Satisfied, I exited the bathroom with my backpack, tossing it into the break room.

I started my shift by dusting off the tables and chairs with Seokjung, my boss. He nodded when I came out, and when I got closer, he told me we had a party of five who'd requested a back room. They paid very well, too, which wasn't unusual. Having one of the few completely soundproof rooms this side of the river is rare, and people are willing to pay a premium for it. It's not completely soundproof, of course, and it can still be bugged if someone really cared enough, but a successful marketing campaign was enough to take care of everyone's doubts.

Someone opened the door, and I glanced at him. He was really good looking, with bleached hair and a hint of a mullet. He could probably be a k-pop star if he wanted to. We got a few of those customers too, men and women who were looking for release from the stress of their work. We only had three back rooms, but each of them could probably ruin a few idol's lives if they had Twitter and felt inclined to do so. Something about the way he walked, though, made me think his profession was a little more violent.

"I'm sorry, we don't open for another hour," I informed him gently but firmly.

"Oh, this is the new bartender I hired," Seokjung told me, turning when I spoke.

He bowed. "Hello, I'm Min Yoongi. Please take care of me." Something about him felt off. Growing up on the wrong side of the river had given me a somewhat reliable gut feeling. This man had some ties to the less savory businesses that ran here. I didn't want to judge him too much, though. Maybe this job was his way of making enough money to leave and find a safer, more ethical job. Though I really wasn't one to talk, since my morals were pretty much nonexistent.

Admittedly, he did pick up the basics of bartending pretty quickly. Seokjung taught him the bare minimum, and left Yoongi to me while he did his accounting or something equally boring. I didn't miss the way he had a small scar on his right arm, and the nimbleness of his callused hands. This was a man who had experience dodging the law. But considering I was pretty sure Seokjung didn't pay taxes, and I definitely didn't on the income I made from the bar, it wasn't like we were a shining light of goodness.

Slowly but surely, the first customers started tricking in. I maintain that people are always nicer earlier in the day. I'm a morning person, and despite having friends who are "night people", they too become cranky and annoyed after a certain point in the day. And the problem is even worse with alcohol. Barely tipsy people are much, much easier to deal with than piss drunk people, any day of the week. As a 5'3" girl who doesn't work out at all, intoxicated people rarely listen to me. I always had to call out Seokjung, who has a more intimidating figure.

It wasn't true tonight, though. A guy who was easily a foot taller than me walked in, clearly drunk, and then started to piece together a series of curses to hurl at me at a laughably slow place, even though it was barely nine. I informed him, once again, that we wouldn't serve him and were under no obligation to do so. Unfortunately, he seemed to pick up on my slightly disrespectful tone. Usually drunk people wouldn't notice, but they also tend to surprise. Before he could even open his mouth and continue, he was interrupted.

"I think you should leave," Yoongi said in a way that sent shivers up my spine. Yep, this man was definitely part of the mafia. The drunk person, sensing that he was in dangerous territory, slunk off, but not before hurling a few insults our way. I was impressed. Yoongi was at least four inches shorter than him, but just a few words had sent the other man running. I decided then that it was useful to have someone slightly dangerous on your side. Also, his past really wasn't any of my business.