Wave to the Sky (Omegaverse)

Chapter 13: Trapped

I smiled and nodded. "I'll be back with your drink, Sir." With that, I headed to the bartender's station. "Sir Jason, one bourbon on the rocks, please."

"Sure thing!" I watched as he prepared the drink, pouring ice into a glass followed by the amber-colored liquor. Placing the drink on the service mat, I reached for it, but before I could grab it, one of the guests approached me.

"I want something to drink," he demanded.

"Sure, Sir," I replied calmly. "And what drink would you like?"

"Rum!"

"No problem," I assured him. "In the meantime, please have a seat, and I'll bring your drink to you."

"Thanks!" he said, taking a seat on the sofa with the other guests.

"Sir Jason, another rum," I requested before picking up the bourbon for the handsome man—Caelus, I presumed. Carrying the drink, I made my way back to him. "Your drink, Sir," I said, offering him the glass.

"Thanks." There was a noticeable coldness about him. I couldn't help but wonder what burdens he carried. Although he was at the party, it seemed like he didn't want to be there. Perhaps he was more of a homebody. Shrugging off the thought, I continued with my duties, serving drinks to the guests.

As the night progressed, the party took a wild turn. Guests began removing their shirts, dancing with the female performers. It was astonishing how quickly alcohol could alter a person's behavior. Even Caelus, the reserved alpha, joined in the revelry, enjoying the company of a dancer who sat on his lap, engaging in a passionate kiss.

"Wow," I muttered under my breath, feeling a mix of surprise and disapproval. It seemed that people were the same regardless of their status in life. Alcohol flowed freely, both literally and metaphorically, fueling the party. We found ourselves frequently running to the ship's kitchen to replenish our ice supply. How much could they possibly drink?

Around one or two in the morning, the party began to wind down, with some guests retiring to their rooms.

"Hey! You, there!" a voice called out, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turned to see the man with brown hair—Carl, if I remembered correctly. I hurried over to him.

"Do you want more drinks, Sir?"

"No. I know you're tired and bored," he stated. "Join us."

"I'm fine, Sir."

"I'm the boss here, aren't I?"

"Well, yes," I acknowledged.

"Do you want me to complain to your manager?" His threat sent a shiver down my spine, my eyes widening in fear.

"I'm sorry, Sir," I quickly apologized.

"Join us in a game of poker and I'll let you off the hook," he proposed. "And who knows? If you win, you might come out ahead."

"Okay, Sir. I suppose a game or two wouldn't hurt."

I settled into a seat in the far corner.

"Let's make it interesting. Whoever wins takes the pot," Sir Carl suggested. Oh no, I had nothing to offer. "And if you lose, you owe me a favor."

"Um, okay, Sir," I agreed, unsure if this was wise. Card games weren't my strong suit, so winning was a long shot.

"Excellent. Gentlemen, with a new player in our midst, let's start fresh, shall we?"

"Place your bets."

They laid out their wagers. Some of them were ludicrous—sports cars, yachts, and the like. Possessing such luxuries was as rare as a cold day in July.

"I'll wager this Patek Philippe 18k rose gold watch," Carl announced, displaying his high-end timepiece with an alligator skin strap.

With that, the poker game commenced.

"Show your cards."

"Straight," one of them declared, revealing his hand.

"Flush."

"Full House," I announced, laying down my cards. Carl smiled at me.

"Not bad," he remarked. "Royal Flush!" he revealed his hand, eliciting grumbles from the other players.

We played another round, but it seemed luck was not on my side. My theory about card games was proving correct—I couldn't seem to win.

"Read 'em and weep!" Carl taunted, displaying his winning hand.

"Wait, what?! Again?" one of them exclaimed, tossing his cards into the air in frustration. He seemed on the verge of losing his cool. "You're cheating! I know you're cheating!"

"Why would I cheat?" Carl countered calmly. "I could easily buy all the items you wagered. Fine, I won't claim any of your bets."

"You know what? Whatever. That's all the Straits can do. Flaunt their wealth in our faces!"

"Well, that's not something I can control."

"Unbelievable!" the disgruntled player shouted as he stormed out of the room.

"And as for you, since you lost, I need you to do something for me," Carl informed me. Seeing no way out, I simply nodded. "Don't worry, it's nothing too difficult. Anyway, I'll retire to my room. Can you bring a drink there?"

"Absolutely, Sir," I replied with a practiced nod. "It's my pleasure to assist."

"You know what? I quite admire your demeanor. Remind me of your name?"

"Loony, Sir," I responded.

"Loony? Quite odd for a name, don't you think?"

"It's actually my nickname. My real name is Alon," I clarified.

"Alon? That's more unique. Anyway, Loony, kindly deliver my drink to room 302 shortly. Permission granted."

"What drink, Sir?" I inquired.

"Anything will suffice. Thank you."

"Understood, Sir." I watched him depart, then swiftly made my way to the bar to relay the order to Sir Jason.

"Sir Carl requested a drink in his room," I informed Sir Jason.

"What does he want?"

"He said anything will do," I replied.

"Very well. I'll whip up a Manhattan," he confirmed, commencing his mixology. Soon enough, the drink was prepared. "Here you are, Loony. Ready for service."

With a tray in hand, I navigated through the crowd and exited the venue. Negotiating the unfamiliar corridors, I scanned door numbers until I reached my destination: Room 302. Knocking lightly, I announced, "Sir, your beverage has arrived," presenting the richly hued cocktail. "Since he permitted entry, I'll step inside," I thought, turning the knob and entering cautiously.

"Sir?" I called, surveying the dimly lit space. Startled by the closing door behind me, I hastened to reassure an unseen presence. "I'll just leave your drink on the table," I assured, positioning it carefully. Attempting to exit, I discovered the knob resistant to my efforts.

"Oh dear," I murmured, grappling with the stubborn mechanism. "Is it locked? Jammed?"

Despite my attempts, the door remained steadfastly shut. "Hello? Anyone out there?" I called, knocking fruitlessly. Exhausted from my futile attempts, I resigned to wait for rescue, scanning the room for signs of occupancy.

A mysterious, alluring scent filled the air, stirring my curiosity. "What's that smell?" I pondered aloud, rising to investigate.