Chapter 2: The Proposition (Hades)

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I love girls.

I love girls who love to fuck and don't get attached once it's over.

I can't stand the women who are needy for love and attention, babe, love doesn't exist.

Sex doesn't have to be tender and affectionate—something many people have difficulty understanding.

Hallie, some random bitch, fits into the latter categories.

We're fucking in a club bathroom, there's nothing romantic about that, but it's like she's trying to make it special.

Her first red flag was trying to kiss me— I physically recoiled away.

Don't put that dirty-ass mouth anywhere near me.

I don't kiss anyone and if I started, it would not be with Holly.

Or is her name Hana?

Whatever, doesn't matter.

"Why can't we make love facing each other?" She whines as I drag one of her legs up higher against the wall.

What the fuck?

I pull out of her and back away as she looks over her shoulder at me innocently.

I'm not doing this with her.

We're not making love.

Who the hell does she think she is?

I treat this shit clinically, don't talk unless it's to say stop.

It's very simple.

"Get out." I laugh, fixing up my pants.

I'm not about to start changing up my routine now.

"Hang on—"

"I said get out." I clap, she gasps, and tears well up in her eyes.

Not this shit again.

I look around awkwardly as she fists a hand into her mouth, trying to muffle her sobs.

This is fucking uncomfortable.

"Hayden!" A girly voice yells, bashing on the bathroom door. "We need you for something!"

Lana.

She's the only person who calls me by my first name.

Thank whatever higher power there is for her.

Without a backward glance, I leave the bathroom, leaving Miss Sensitive to wallow in her own self-pity.

I'm the wrong person to be vulnerable in front of because I don't fucking care.

When I was sad, no one comforted me and I turned out just fine.

I hate when people cry, it makes me uncomfortable cause I don't know what to do.

Am I supposed to give you a tissue or something? Well, I don't carry them on me, so there goes that.

Lana glares at me with her large green eyes as soon as I exit the bathroom.

She knows I went in there with a girl.

"I was on break." I defend, but she is not impressed.

"Angelico's gran called." She says, leading me over to the highest motherfucker I've ever seen.

Angelo (his real name is Angelico but no one except Lana calls him that) is sprawled on a wooden stage.

It's supposed to be for bands, but no band ever plays anymore.

They're too scared.

I mean I guess it kinda makes sense, the last guys got scared when people started firing guns and then word got around.

Pussies.

He's cradling an empty bong like a baby, holding it like it's the most precious thing in the world.

To him, weed is.

Angelo smiles easily when he sees us and waves madly.

"Go on." Lana prompts when he continues to stare without saying anything.

He's not the brightest guy.

"Oh yeah!" He nods animatedly. "My gran says some girl next door to her was screaming and shit."

"What's that got to do with me?" I pull a face.

"You're our security guard," Lana says.

Honestly being a security guard at Malice (the club we're in) is kinda pointless as fuck.

There are never any problems because if you come here, you behave.

You sort shit out and leave, if you want to kill someone, you take it outside.

"You can go and see if she's okay." Lana smiles and dimples indent her cheeks.

She's saying it nicely, but it's still a demand.

"Why me?" I can't help but say. "Doesn't she have security in her building?"

Angelo laughs.

"Nah man, this is on the East."

Oh.

Winterville is a pretty shitty place to live at the best of times, but the East is where it's really bad, no one has any money over there and everyone is fuelled with fear or rage.

"This isn't the first time his gran has called about this girl," Lana runs her fingers through her dark curls. "She could be in real trouble."

I would tell her to call the police, but the police in Winterville do nothing.

Probably why we have the highest crime rate in the country.

You can't walk anywhere without witnessing a drug deal, a fight, a fire, or a dead body.

"Angelico's gran says this girl never has any visitors, she has no one!" Lana says horrified. "I couldn't live with myself if something happened knowing we did nothing."

I rub my jaw tiredly.

One thing I've learned working at Malice is that everyone needs to keep Lana happy.

If she's not, then Joey gets involved.

No one wants Joey to get involved.

"I'll check it out, alright?" I sigh.

"Thank you, Hayden." She says happily.

"Let me give ya the address man," Angelo says, ushering me to come closer to him.

Lana used to be poor and lonely, so now she's rich and always around people, she tries to save everyone who used to be like her.

I try not to think about how that's the only reason I'm here.

Joey wasn't gonna hire me but then she saw "pain" in my eyes and I miraculously got a job.

"Reckon this girl's actually in trouble?" I ask once Lana leaves us to it.

Angelo shrugs as he empties his huge jacket pockets.

"I thought Gran was senile and losing her marbles..."

He rakes through a large pile of his belongings before finding a chewed-on pencil and a small piece of paper.

"But she could be onto something."

"I'll check it out, but if this girl doesn't answer the door, then I'm leaving," I say.

"You should drop in on my gran ya know? Let her know you investigated so she stops harassing me about a strange-probably mentally ill girl. Angelo adds.

"I'll do that for you, man."

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A/N: I want to let y'all know that character development is definitely on the way, and I'm trying not to over-explain things but also not under-explain them, so I hope I'm doing okay in setting the story up 😬

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