Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
M Y S H E D E V I L
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The vile smell of spilt spirits drenched through your clothing and strung the inner side of your nose, throwing you off your game completely as you stood at the busy bar of The White Bull, the local club in New York. It was late into a Friday evening, the night outside bitter cold, the air thick with the upcoming winter breeze bringing in the buff, tall bikers from the east end for a drink. Friday nights were the worst, it brought nothing but chaos and extra shifts, and you'd only been working here a week.
You'd planned on making a good impression on your manager of course, which ended in you getting a rather decent raise after the first few days. She was easily lead and far too facile when it cane to manipulation. You had to give the odd push a couple of times in order to win her over, but it worked. However, it didn't reduce the pain in your feet, the ache in your back and the soreness beneath your eyes from the lights burning the windows to your soul.
"Oi, lady!"
Ah, a heckler. You had come across more than enough of these men, knowing well not to play too rough as they were a lot taller than you were, not to mention the muscle gain. It was common for such type to come crawling in during the evenings, smelling of gasoline and Tabasco. You took a deep breath, plastering a hard smile on your face before collecting a pen and paper and wondering to the other side of the bar.
"What can I get you, sir?" You asked politely, your sweet cherry red lips shining in the neon lighting, pieces of your hair falling out on your neck from the messy bun that sat on the crown of your head.
"Get me a Martini, keep the change" his voice was deep and rugged, parking himself on the tanned leather stool that sat opposite you as he slid you a twenty. You nodded, throwing down your pad and pen and getting to work on the drink. Picking up a glass, you spun it gently in the palm of your hand, prepping some ice in the bottom.
"So, your not from around here huh, princess?" The man behind you perked up, and it hadn't gone unnoticed that his eyes were surely burning into your lower back. Your blood boiled with slight rage and anticipation. There was only one man who could call you by that name, and he wouldn't be happy when he found out about it.
