Ch. 1

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Miles was diligently working to ensure that customers received their drinks, money, and any additional requests they may have had. He had been working for a few months but was considered the best waiter there. Miles never had an issue with customers and was often given tips for his work. When he had problems, other customers were always there to help.

Recently, he moved to the poker area. There was an overflow of customers, and the other workers requested his assistance. Miles knew a few people in the poker area but heard the place was more... aggressive. The other workers promised to help him accommodate the change, though Miles didn't think he needed it. But he did in the end. Old, groggy people often groped the workers to the point where they had to put a sign up at the entrance. And Miles, being fresh meat, could effortlessly be taken advantage of.

While Miles was walking around, avoiding the customers and bringing drinks, his eyes caught wind of a man. He sat at a poker table with a group of men and brought him the chips on the table. The man won a significant amount of money, and Miles became interested in it and was intrigued. After serving the final round of drinks, he attempted to approach the man but couldn't. A coworker stopped him in his tracks.

"Where are you going, freshie?" They asked.

"Just wandering, sir," Miles said with innocent eyes yet still lying through his teeth, "last few minutes of my shift,"

"Don't lie because I saw you looking at Mr. 42," They teased.

"Mr. 42?" Miles asked, his interest peaked.

"He's in 42nd place on the leaderboard," They explained, "the only reason he can't raise any higher is that he can't challenge the other 41 people; who are dead,"

"Oh, that's dark, sir," Miles said, a bit shocked.

"He hates the name Mr. 42, but he deserves it," They said, glaring at the man, "Dude, he sends so many people into debt or addiction that it is crazy,"

Miles looked behind his coworker to look at 'Mr. 42', but he looked back. He blushed and looked back at his coworkers.

"There's a reason we placed you here, Miles," They said, leaning in on him, "Mr. 42 loves to pick on the fresh meat, and I've seen it first-hand, so take my word and stay away from him, plus he looks like your twin."

"I only got 20 minutes left in my shift," Miles bragged, "I don't think he'll be interested in me if he just won a huge stack of money, sir; and I don't even have a sibling,"

"Just stay away, and please take my word," They said, "now enough chit-chat, and get back to work,"

Miles nodded and hurried to his area but couldn't get his mind over 'Mr 42'. Something about this horrible man intrigued him for some odd reason. Not because he was rich, but because he was... interesting. While he worked, his thoughts were consumed by 'Mr 42'.

Nearing the end of his shift, he was walking past the cash deposit and withdrawal area. He was undoing the tie of his suit and was ready to head home. At this point, his long shift drained Miles. But as he almost walked through the employees-only door, a hand touched his shoulder. The tired boy looked at who grabbed him, ready to remind another customer: "Hands off." He was left breathless when he locked eyes with 'Mr. 42'.

Miles tried to speak, but his tongue stuck, and he couldn't say anything. He didn't know if it was the hazel eyes, the nicely braided hair, or the black turtleneck that might as well exposed his chest. Or the very evident bulge that was feeling upon Miles' leg. The cold stare that 'Mr. 42' gave made Miles blush even harder.

"When are you getting off shift?" Mr. 42 asked.

"I-," Miles said, still keeping eye contact with the customer.

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