Edens Dream

Chpt.1

In a world forever bruised, can fractured souls find solace in each other?

Eden's Dream is a haven for all kinds. Rising stars chasing fame mingle with fallen ones seeking refuge from shattered dreams. Here, triumphs are toasted, and sorrows are drowned with equal measure. Fittingly, the proprietor is a fallen star herself - Lilith.

Once a captivating songstress, Lilith's voice was exploited by a predatory music producer. He devoured both her talent and her spirit, leaving her jaded and adrift. When she stumbled into Eden's Dream, a weary soul at the bottom of a glass, the kind owner offered her a lifeline - a job as a bartender.

Years passed, filled with a kaleidoscope of dreamers, drunkards, and musicians, each carrying their burdens. Lilith's favorite, however, was Adam, the son of the old owner. A talented guitarist fueled by boundless optimism, Adam possessed an unfailing smile and a joke for every occasion. He, like many others, craved his big musical break, but unlike the jaded souls who frequented the bar, Adam never let setbacks dim his light.

Lilith, though hardened by experience, held a soft spot for Adam's unwavering hope. However, her least favorite patron was Eve. A whirlwind of problems personified, Eve was a prostitute, a drug addict, and an inveterate smoker. Lilith's distaste wasn't for Eve's lifestyle choices, but for the way Eve reveled in them. The woman seemed content to drift through life, chasing momentary thrills with no desire for redemption. This fueled Lilith's cynicism, but she wasn't one to judge. In Eden's Dream, hers was the role of bartender, not moral compass.

Tonight, Lilith was wiping down glasses, ensuring the kitchen's rhythm matched the patrons' appetites. A voice, slurred and repetitive, broke the rhythm. "Explain the book again," the man mumbled, his face flushed. Lilith sighed inwardly. Maybe it was time to cut him off.

"Horror story," the man croaked, a fleeting moment of clarity in his drunken haze. "Secret government agency. C.C.D. Collects oddities. Protects us... or so they say. Use convicts... Class F employees... experiment on them with the oddities..."

Lilith poured a drink for another patron, tuning out the man's droning monologue. Then, a familiar voice crackled over the speakers. It was Adam, his warm baritone infused with a playful lilt. The bar fell silent, anticipation thickening the air. Adam, the ever-present musician, was about to take the stage.

Lilith tried to focus on her tasks, but Adam's voice was a siren song. He often wrote love songs, and sometimes she'd catch herself wondering if they were about her. Logic scoffed at the notion. The lyrics never fit, and Adam never showed any romantic interest. He was drawn to all kinds of women - tall, short, dark-haired, fair-skinned. It was a mystery.

The only woman Adam ever brought home was Eve, Lilith's least favorite customer. Eve, a local meth addict and prostitute, was everything Lilith wasn't. Lilith had offered help, mirroring the kindness shown to her in her own past, but Eve reveled in her self-destruction. The only thing that intrigued Lilith about Eve was her ageless beauty, defying the ravages of addiction. Unlike Lilith, whose parents were indigenous American and Hispanic, Eve's ancestry was pure Korean giving them both an exotic appearance.

As Adam sang, the bar filled up. Lost in the music, Lilith didn't realize it had ended until the cook signaled her. She turned to find Adam gazing at her with an amused grin.

"Hey there, beautiful," he said, his voice warm.

"Eyes up here, music man," Lilith countered, a playful jab laced with a truth she couldn't deny. Part of her wouldn't mind him noticing her.

"Relax, Lils," he chuckled, using the nickname he'd given her on their first meeting. "We're practically family. Besides, you wouldn't want me to get thrown out, would you?"

The nickname, a constant reminder of their platonic bond, stung. Lilith had mastered the art of hiding her emotions, even from Adam, who usually saw right through everyone.

"It's Lilith," she said flatly, rolling her eyes as she started making his usual drink - a dirty screwdriver with a specific ratio of orange juice. "And for your information, you know next to nothing about me, even after three years."

"Well, maybe if you weren't so closed off," Adam countered, taking a measured sip of the drink, "I might get to know you better."

"Seems you're learning some self-control with the booze," Lilith observed, testing his resolve by not immediately refilling his glass. "I was getting worried about my star performer keeling over. Listen, forget those producers and their empty promises. You can always work here - waiter, bartender, even cook."

The tension crackled between them, a mix of unspoken emotions and a future yet unwritten.

The emptiness of his glass mirrored the hollowness Adam felt. "Not my fault that producer took me for everything," he muttered a hint of defiance in his voice. "Besides, you can't talk about survival. I may not know your story, but I know how you ended up here."

Lilith bristled. Her past was a raw nerve, and Adam's flippant remark hit it dead on. "I did what I had to do," she snapped. "And unlike you, I built a life from the ashes. You, Mr. Sunshine, can barely string together a sober performance."

Her words hung heavy as Eve sashayed towards them, a caricature of seduction in a too-tight dress. "Hey there, handsome," she purred, her voice dripping with honey. "Loved your set tonight. Why don't we make some beautiful music together at your place?"

Adam, unmoved by the blatant come-on, gently removed her hand from his arm. "Thanks, but I'm working on new material. Don't need any distractions." He placed a few bills on the counter, a token payment despite his ownership stake.

Eve's pout deepened as Adam exited. "Ugh, such a buzzkill! You, with the scowl, why'd you have to go and chase him off?" She slid onto a stool, her gaze flickering to Lilith. "Can I get my usual?"

"Can you pay for it?" Lilith countered, a dry edge to her voice as she started mixing a piña colada.

"You know the drill, Lilith," Eve said, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Heavy on the tequila, light on the judgment."

"He doesn't love you, Eve," Lilith said bluntly. "Maybe not even himself."

Eve shrugged, downing a large gulp of the drink. "Love? Who needs it? All he needs are curves like mine. Men are simple creatures, wouldn't you agree? You, with your killer figure in that uniform..." Her voice trailed off, amusement dancing in her eyes.

Lilith couldn't deny the truth in Eve's words. The uniform did cling strategically, a subtle ploy to keep the bar lively. "Male fantasies," she muttered, a flicker of shame warming her cheeks at the thought of her own secret ones involving Adam's crooked grin.

"Exactly," Eve smirked. "But unlike me, you don't sell yours for pocket change."

A tense silence descended between them. Lilith, usually adept at hiding her emotions, felt a strange vulnerability exposed. Eve, for all her flaws, had a point. Was Lilith truly free, or just another prisoner of a different kind of desire?