Nameless // h.s. au

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

*Hunter*

Big intimidating doors. Big intimidating important doors. I shake my head incessantly trying to clear etcha-sketch brain from going anywhere near green eyes or brown curls or red carpets or loud radiators.

The bell chimes above me as I push open the doors to a dark shop. The light at the main desk is on but the hall leading to the piercer and tattoo artist booths is dark along with the sun lamp.

"Hello?" My voice is lost in the dark space.

My combat boots clank against the creaky stairs as I walk towards the only other light in the dark room... Mr. Styles' office. A faint stream of light comes from under the door and illuminates the red carpeting in front of it. Red carpeting.

The cold air of the empty shop sends a shiver down my spine. My fingers curl as I shake my head. I need this job. I need this job.

My clenched fist knocks lightly on the door.

I need this job. I need this job. I need this job.

No response.

"Mr. Styles?" My voice is quite shaky as I step away from the door expecting a furious man to come bursting through the wooden doors with a scowl on his imperfectly porcelain face.

But no such event occurs as I just stand there with my shoulders sunk in defeat and my jaw clenched.

"Mr. Styles?" I call again , louder this time.

No fucking response. Like he didn't ask me here early. Like he isn't in there, even though I can see the light streaming from underneath the door. I knew he was a cocky asshole but not this cocky. Those green eyes and brown curls and red carpets and loud radiators are now flared as I think about how much anxiety grew inside me when I thought I was late.

I huff quietly as my nostrils flare and my anger gets the best of me.

"Mr. Styles I-," Doors opened at my forceful hand and I immediately feel my stomach drop, "Oh shit."

"Miss Rowen." A very angry, very naked Mr. Styles says as he rakes a hand through his hair and makes no move to back away from the also naked fairly busty red head I faintly remember seeing downstairs yesterday when Erin was showing me around. He really does have everyone at his feet- or for this poor girl- on their knees in front of him, "How may I help you?" He seethes through his teeth.

She continues to pleasure the pompous, curly haired, green eyed, ten foot tall monster with tattoos coating his chest and arms. Her face is caked with makeup as she tries so very hard to pleasure him like only a porn star could.

"You said to meet you here at ten to go over some things..." I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows.

His brow lifts as he nods in recognition, pushing the girl away and stepping away.

The girl looks almost lost. Her eyes distant as she looks down at the floor and wipes her mouth slowly. She's just as lost as the rest of us- if not more. Her hair is a mess, her makeup is a mess...her life is mess. We share that part though. I bet she has etcha sketch mind too. I bet hers doesn't have green eyes and brown curls and the interior of his office or the simple fact that one second he's an interesting stranger on a train with an ego bigger than the empire state and the next second he controls her pay check... but I could be wrong. Maybe we're not different.