Where Two Collide

Chapter Three - Cat

Chapter Three

Cat

            Damn it was cold. Too cold to be out, even with a jacket. Flipping up the collar to protect my neck a little, I turned my walk into a jog, knowing the heels I'd worn that night could take a little pressure. My feet would be killing me later no matter what, so at least it was better for me not to freeze to death now. I was lucky we lived in town. Some of the girls took the bus, and I knew the kinds of people they'd be in company with at that time of night. No thank you. It was bad enough fending off men during my shift, let alone in my own time outside in the real world. I'd take a jog on a frosty night over the bus any day.

I kept to the shadows on the pavement, content to keep from drawing attention to myself. As I rounded the corner off the main high-street the faint sound of music and laughter could be heard drifting across the wind. Just another block.

Tugging my jacket a little more tightly around myself, my jog slowed a little as I neared my destination. It wasn't like I wasn't keen to get out of the cold, however, the thought of a cramped bar was not exactly high on my top ways to spend my evening. I thought of my bed and enviously recalled Alice tightly snuggled up in her duvet for the night.

"Tsk." I pushed the thought to the back of my mind. That'd be too boring anyway. I'd be damned if I ended up like my sister Alice. Every day spent texting a boy;

"What are you doing?"

"Where are you?"

"Who are you out with and why didn't you invite me?"

Bleh. Oh god no. I had goals, and they didn't revolve around a boy and what he wanted. At this rate Alice would end up married at eighteen, being a stay at home wife, looking after the house whilst her husband went out to work, and secretly, and sometimes less than secretly held her lack of working against her. Though he would be damned if she wasn't sat at home like a good wife every day, whilst he whored it up.

I shook my head. I'd heard all about Owen and I knew he'd fit the bill. I also knew that Alice had heard the same rumours as I had, yet here she was, dating the loser.

I would not live my life for anyone but myself. And if doing that meant doing this most nights, well, I would just get on and do it.

"Honey," a cheerful voice called out to me as I headed down the narrow path to my final destination.

I smiled reflexively. That was me. Not Cat, but Honey. At least that was who I was to the people here. "Hey Kieran, alone tonight again I see."

"Sure thing Honeydew," said the ageing bouncer with a nod. He gestured to the other side of the door he was standing outside of. He was jovial as ever and one might assume, an easy target when it came to dodgy patrons. If anyone thought that, and tried to take advantage, they'd soon find themselves eating gravel, and they'd like it too if they knew what was good for them. "Just can't get anyone to stand over there, maybe it's me, or maybe it's the spot, you know?" He flashed cigarette stained teeth. "Maybe they don't like my jokes."

I shrugged. "Maybe they just don't want to deal with some of the shits here."

"Well you could be hitting the nail on the head there. I guess not everybody is cut out for the thug life."

"Thug life my ass," I laughed as a big fat droplet of rain landed right between my eyes. I touched my finger to my forehead, wiping it away.

Kieran nodded, as if we shared our own little secret. "Better get on inside Honey darlin, looks like we're in for a downpour." He pushed the door inwards and I ducked under his arm into the heated building, patting him on the shoulder as I passed.

The outside of the building did not portray well the inside. It might as well have been an entirely different dimension, with its neon graffitied walls and rainbow lighting. The style was somewhat psychedelic in nature, which bode well for the mostly drunk and sometimes stoned temporary occupants.

This was Mi'lady's Velvet Room. Part bar, part club, part dancing girls and part hang out for sleezy guys. It was a private spot, mostly frequented by local businessmen with their clients. Though, where the drunks hung out, the losers would follow and that was unavoidable. The pay however was good and most importantly, it was off the books, which for a sixteen-year-old whose school didn't allow its students to work was perfect. Then again, here I wasn't Cat I was Honey, and the only person who might have any inkling that I wasn't quite who I said I was, didn't give a rats ass as long as I did my job and did it well.

It was packed inside, which wasn't unusual for mid-week. I slipped past the customers hovering just inside the doorway and made my way across the walkway which encircled the dancing area. All around the outside were small standing tables where lone groups of mostly men, with the occasional woman, meandered with their drinks.

I slipped off my jacket as I reached the bar area, chucking it with the others in a small closet just out of sight from the main room. Shelle, the head bartender, was mixing drinks for the mounting line of customers hollering their orders across the bar. She clearly had it under control but looked relieved as she spotted me arriving.

"Right on time as usual," said Shelle giving me a nod. "Can you grab some beers from the back for me and restock the fridge, it's still early and we're already running low. Looks like we're in for a busy night."

"Sure thing," I replied, quickly tying a small black apron around my waist and ducking behind the bar to the storage cellar. I grabbed a box and hauled it back to the bar, kneeling by the glass doored fridge we had there, I began filling the empty spaces with beers.

"Hey," shouted a slurred voice behind me.

I glanced up at a man leaning over the bar. He was dressed in a full tuxedo, he'd probably just come from some fancy party, but he looked a little worse for wear now, his clip-on bow tie hanging loose around his neck and his shirt tails half stuck out from his trousers. "Heyyyyyyy," he drawled again, seeing that he'd managed to get my attention.

"One second sir, someone will be right with you," I replied, looking over my shoulder at Shelle, who had now noticed the inebriated man trying to jump the queue.

"I need a drink," he shouted, either not hearing me or choosing to ignore me. He leaned further over the bar, his sleeves dragging in the alcohol spills.

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I love Cats fake name, if you could go by a different name what would it be? Comment below!