Season: Summer
Weather: Hot, smoky and windy. The wind is hot and carrying fine particles of dust, causing the dust and smoke to mix, making the coughing and choking breathability of the air to worsen. It's really bad. Bad enough that I had to buy a face mask just so that I could breathe.
Day of the week: Saturday
Date: 25th February, 2024
Worried about not having enough money in my bank account to pay back any debts from now living in a hotel, I snuck out of the hotel and went to a fancy big old clubhouse that has a bar and a nightclub section where I used to regularly work as a casual. It was mostly patronised by rich people who booked private rooms. I had been told there was work through the day and into the evening if I wanted to come. With the poor air quality outside, only the most desperate people like myself are willing to work. Strangely, there were more patrons than usual.
Today was a Bollywood themed day, and after the other girls had already left the dressing room to go to work, the manager had stared at me a while longer trying to decide what outfit to put me in. After trying on a few styles, he had insisted on dressing me in a risque belly dancer outfit that showed way too much skin for my liking. Thankfully, he allowed me a scarf to help cover up my chest scar. The manager had always been the hands-on sort who tended to get very handsy when undressing and dressing his favourite workers.
"Do you want to take on side jobs?" he asked me with pursed lips, sliding a hand up the cup of the thin chest piece that didn't cover up much.
I slapped his hand away and scowled.
"No way."
"Sure, sure," the manager sneered. "That's what they all say at first. Then there will be one accident. Two accidents. Then it becomes routine work. At least you get paid more. What use is dignity when you're desperate?"
My gritted teeth made a squeaking sound and this time I didn't stop him when he molested me.
"See? Good girl. That's the way. The loss of a little pride and dignity is nothing in the face of survival," the manager told me. "Besides, it's nothing you haven't let me touch before. So, want to take on any side gigs?"
"No. Still no. Always will be no," I said mechanically, staring at the wall and refusing to look at the pimp. I had forgotten how much I hated this guy who liked to take advantage of all his workers, male or female.
"Alright. How about the higher level risky waitressing service? Touching and playing but no doing the deed? The pay is 1.5 times the usual waitressing salary. Room 204 has ordered a pretty waitress who will let them touch and play. They aren't allowed to do more than that though. If they try to do more, you can press the security button on your lanyard, and I'll come up to help you out. With this level, you'll still be square with the police if they come in on a sudden raid."
"Is the 'rescue fee' still the same as last time?" I asked through my gritted teeth, hating the feeling of the disgusting man's fingers sliding over my bare skin. Who knew where those fingers had been?
"What was the rescue fee you remember last time?"
"An hour with you at your service."
"Oh. Prices have gone up," the manager sniggered, enjoying how I was shivering and shuddering at his touch, and trying to make my goosebumps become more pronounced as he tickled me lightly with those grazing fingers. I felt like throwing up. "It's still time alone with me, but it's no longer time limited. You actually have to satisfy me with your 'service' now."
I closed my eyes and shuddered.
Why had I agreed to come here tonight? Could I still back out?
I was already backing away just thinking about it, but a firm arm around my sensitive waist stopped me. I couldn't help flinching, which made the pervert laugh and pinch me, making me jump with a squeak.
"You still have the cutest reactions. Still so pure. I don't know how you've managed stay this way. You remember the 'backing out fee'? You're already here. You have to finish the shift or be willing to become my plaything for the night," the manager leered, bringing his disgusting face closer to mine.
"Aren't I already your plaything?" I hissed.
"Ah. I love it when my toys know their place," the manager cooed in my ear. "Good girl." He stroked my hair. "So obedient. Although it's been such a long time since we last saw each other, you still know how to make me happy. I've really missed you. You will do the risky service today. Given your experience, it's about time. There are very few 'basics only' waitresses now. Most take on side gigs or at least take on one of the three levels of risky service. You've been away so long that you're out of date."
I grimaced and jumped when he slapped me on the backside.
"Room 204," the manager reminded me as I hurried out of the room, feeling my stomach churning.
Outside the dressingroom, I took a few deep breaths. The older girls who knew me from before that passed by gave me a pat on the arm or a nod of acknowledgement and a facial expression of understanding.
"Where've you been?" Meriya, one such older girl who had been working here since before I started talked to me as she walked back to the bar and food service window. "It's been ages."
"I found other, better work, and then... you know. Stuff happened," I said.
"Yeah. Stuff always happens to people like us," Meriya sighed. "Where'd he send you?"
"Upstairs. Room 204."
"What level risk?" Meriya nodded.
"I don't know. He said it's 1.5 times pay."
"Level 2 then. They can keep you in the room and do almost anything they want to you short of hurting you or penetration," Meriya told me. "Be careful. It's not like when you were here. Things are worse now. Be very wise."
"I'll try," I made a face.
"Room 204 have already made a call down to order some stuff," Meriya said, glancing at the orders pinned up. "Pick up and then go. Shout if you need help. Don't rely on that bastard. If he's paid enough, he'll just give you to the sleazeballs and tell you it's part of the job, and give you a pittance for compensation."
The bartender glanced at me.
"New girl?" he asked Meriya.
"Old girl, but from before the bastard changed the rules on us all," Meriya said, picking up her orders and heading out.
"Then he'll be targeting you," the bartender told me. "Keep your nose clean and your head down. The snacks for you to bring up to 204 are there. The drinks are here. Since you know your way around, bring it all up together."
I nodded.
"Thanks. Jane," I said by way of introduction.
"Ted," the bartender grunted. "Be quick. The order came down a while ago."
"Right."
I picked up the tray of snacks and balanced it with the tray of drinks, preparing to go upstairs, when the head chef passed by the window and spotted me.
"You. Jane-girl, what are you doing back here?" he asked me crossly. "Didn't I tell you not to come back?"
"I wasn't planning to, Chef," I told him.
"Come back and talk to me later," he frowned at me. "Go do your work and serve the customers first. If there's any trouble, come and find me."
"Got it, Chef," I nodded and the chef went back into the kitchen mumbling under his breath.
"You know the Chef?" Ted raised his eyebrows at me.
"He used to take care of me when I first started here," I smiled.
"Right," Ted waved me away. "Stay on his good side."
I nodded and walked away, carefully carrying the tray of drinks and the tray of snacks.
Upstairs, I stepped around the bit of ripped carpet that still posed a safety hazard for those wearing high heels and hadn't been changed even after all this time. Carefully, I knocked on the door of Room 204 and then after pressing the door handle down, used my body to open the door and enter the private room backwards.
"About time," a man exclaimed, while I walked carefully to the central dining table.
"Apologies," I said, putting the trays down onto the table. "My name is Jane. I'm your allocated waitress for the night. I'm sorry for the wait. It's a busy day today. These are the drinks and snacks you ordered over the phone."
I rattled off the names of the various drinks I recognised on the tray, handing them out to those who raised their hands for their drinks.
"Have you all seen the menus? It's almost lunchtime, so would you all like to order something for lunch? Is there anything else you would like to order?" I continued smoothly. "Chef Matt Baker is in the kitchen today, and so the ragout will be especially good today. The specials will also be pretty good," I spotted and menu and pointed out the specials menu section, in case anyone was interested. "Chef makes a mean steak too, but his baked fish is even better."
The man who was sitting at the central dining table rather than on one of the lounge chairs slid a hand up my thigh and backside. Without a change in expression, I sidestepped out of his reach.
"If you don't feel like eating yet, and seeing the snacks you have, why don't you order the chicken tenders with chilli pear dip? Or the spring onion kimchi salad and savoury seafood pancakes? Or perhaps even a cheese, cracker and vegetable stick platter with dips? Bruschetta? Those would pair well with most of the drinks, wines and beers that you've ordered."
I sidestepped another reaching arm with twitchy fingers and finally glanced around the relatively silent room.
The private room's lights had been dimmed and there were two call girls ensconced among the mix of genders scattered around the relatively large private room. I saw a pair of people going through the songs on the karaoke machine, and the others seemed to just be lounging back with drinks in their hands. My entrance seemed to have interrupted whatever people had been chatting about, hence the strange and awkward silence.
People glanced away from me and toward a particularly tall man sitting in the furthest and darkest corner. He looked like a dark shadow lord from ancient times in a modern suit from the way he sat and the way people looked toward him with fear in his eyes.
"I thought you were a bold man, Smeez," the dark shadow lord sneered at the man who had been trying and failing to touch and get a hold of me. "What happened to all your bravado? I thought you were going to lay the first waitress who walked in the door. Slam her down on the table and show us how you're a man."
"Causing bruises to the waitress is forbidden," I advised in a tight voice, feeling my throat constricting and maintaining the polite smile on my face through the years of practice more so than anything else. "According to the request of the person who hired this private room, you have been provided with a level 2 service, meaning that you may touch the waitress without it being considered abuse or harassment, but go no further than that. Whether or not said waitress allows you to touch her or do anything to her is the waitress's perogative and it is the waitress's right to draw the line. Please remember that while you are welcome customers to our club, good customer etiquette is recommended in order to prevent you from being blacklisted in the futur-"
The crash of an empty beer bottle being forcefully smashed on the edge of the table interrupted me and made me jump sideways away from the exploding glass. I was a bit out of practice and slow. Shards of glass slid across the bare skin of my face, neck, arms, bare abdomen and legs. Too close. That had been too close.
I clutched my chest for a moment, trying to calm my racing heart. If I ended up in hospital again, the doctor would be giving me a scolding for sure. Who knew what my bosses would do or say to me? Perhaps they'd be too disappointed in me and decide to give up on me. That thought made my guts twist.
"Shuddup," slurred the man who had been called Smeez, bearing down on me through the broken glass, pointing a jabbing finger that I wasn't allowing him to jab me with, by dodging away from him. "E'ryone knows alla waitresses 'ere are open legged and fair game. You do e'rything and anything we, the customers demands. Don't ya know the customer is king?"
"The customer is not king when threatening violence, in which case, it is reasonable and allowed for me to call the police and act in self-defence," I retorted with all the skill of all my years of experience, striving to maintain control and not allow the drunkard to shake me.
"You have no rights here," said a nasty voice in my ear from behind, who had grabbed my scarf and was choking me with it. "We have all the say. So what if you're hurt or injured? You're just a waitress. A dime a dozen. After we've finished playing with you, we chuck you a wad of cash and no matter how you feel or how hurt you are, you still have to crawl between our legs and thank us for the abuse. You should be grateful for this chance to make a quick buck at all. All you have to do is be obedient, lie back and spread your legs. How easy is that?"
"Why don't you bend over the table and spread your buttcheeks to see whether it's easy to make a quick buck?" I sneered in reply, resulting in the scarf being torn off my neck in a painful manner that was sure to leave bruises and friction burns. The sharp sequins sliced multiple small cuts across the soft skin of my neck.
Although I was panicking internally, I held my nerves steady. This was nothing I hadn't dealt with before. I just had to stay calm, rational and make an escape plan.
The man behind me thrust me forward so that I fell onto the glass shards on the ground with a grimace while he pulled an arm up behind my back, making me sweat from the pain. I gritted my teeth. This wasn't bad. I had experienced worse before. I survived that time. I could do it again.
"Ugh," Smeez leaned close to stare at the big scar in the middle of my chest where I had had open heart surgery not too long ago. "Who sent us disabled second hand goods. Look how ugly she is. I've totally lost the mood after looking at that huge-ass scar."
"What?" said the man behind me, releasing the hand behind my back, pulling me back upright and then forcefully swinging me to turn around. His dirty fingers traced the scar and a fingernail even plucked at a stitch that had yet to be pulled out, making me wince. He made a face at me. "Disgusting. Who would want to look at or even touch you?"
"If you are finished being disgusted with me," I said in my polite waitressing voice, trying not to let my voice tremble, "please allow me to continue with my work while you all continue what you were doing before."
I could feel blood trickling down my neck, and down my legs from where glass shards had punctured the skin of my knees and lower legs. It hurt, but I could bear it. It shouldn't prevent me from continuing with my work.
"Get lost, ugly," the man holding me tossed me back down to fall sprawling amongst the shards of glass. "Go and call another, prettier chick to serve us."
"I apologise," I said from where I was picking myself up off the floor, "but I am your allocated waitress for the entirety of your service today and tonight, if you are staying for the evening as well. The manager does not allow allocated waitresses to be changed because of a customer's whimsy. Your requests and preferences would have been duly noted when the private room was booked and-"
A heavy slap across the face made me fall straight back down onto the glass in a daze. My ear rang, eyes watered and cheek immediately swelled up while the shock slowly gave way to a burning pain.
I gritted my teeth to continue my spiel.
"And unless you are willing to pay an extra fee for another waiter or waitress, I will continue to remain in the room to perform my duty," I croaked and carefully got back up to grab a tissue and spit some blood into it. My cheek was swelling up enough to reduce part of the field of view in my left eye. "This is the way it has always been in the clubhouse and if you are unhappy with the rules, please discuss with-"
A punch in the gut winded me and I stumbled backwards, crashing into the corner of the table, which dug painfully into my lower back. I skittered on the broken glass, lost my balance because of the high heels I was wearing, twisting my ankle and falling back down amongst the broken glass, clutching my abdomen, struggling to breathe. I wasn't just clutching my abdomen either. My heart wasn't liking the abuse I was taking either.
Kicks aimed at my head, neck and chest struck painfully and I curled up to protect my head with my arms and minimise the damage, ignoring the shards of glass now embedded in various areas of my body.
"Enough," said the lazy voice of the dark shadow lord in the dark corner. "She's not wrong. Those have always been the rules. While the rules have become somewhat lax of late, they continue to stand as the written rules by which the clubhouse runs by. This waitress is no newbie, even if we've never seen her before. Besides, if you abuse her any more, the police will definitely be involved and you'll be going to prison because I would be testifying as an eyewitness to how you performed manslaughter in front of me. And since when did I ever give you the right to kill a waitress in the private room I hired with my name in this clubhouse that belongs to that gentleman that I'm sure neither of you want to meet?"
What a surprise. A patron who actually knew the rules, was willing to enforce them and stand up for me in this sleazy joint.
"Look. You've ruined the nice atmosphere we had. The girl was just trying to do her job and now there's glass all over the floor and she's dripping blood everywhere. It's disgusting. She was already just barely acceptable to look at, and now you've made things infinitely worse. Now we're going to have to look at her ugly, deformed face and watch her bleed out on us through the course of the afternoon."
Ok. So maybe he wasn't standing up for me. I should have known better than to assume the best of a man who seemed to be the leader of a bunch of lowlifes in here.
I was ruining the aesthetics. Fair enough.
"Girl, what was your name? Uh, Jane, right?Jane, are you badly injured? Will you be able to keep working? I wouldn't want you to lose your job over a little incident like this."
I took a little longer to find my breath, bring my uncomfortably racing heart back under control, and then pull myself back up onto my high heeled feet, hobbling a little from the sprained ankle as I did so.
"Yes, sir. Thank you. I can keep working. If you please, do provide a generous tip for the trouble," I rasped and coughed into the tissue and wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, tossing it in the bin. "If you would please excuse me, I'll get the room and table cleaned back up. And then I will request your orders again."
I kicked the rubbish bin over to where most of the glass was, I took the outer few pages of a newspaper I saw to line the rubbish bin and prevent the glass from cutting through the plastic bag.
"Hey, I was reading that," someone protested.
I glanced at them and raised an eyebrow.
"No, you - you go ahead," the person stammered, waving a hand at me and glancing at the lazy shadow lord slouched in the dark corner. "Use the newspaper. Don't cut yourself."
I nodded at him and at the dark shadowy warlord in the dark corner, silently continuing my work and trying not to wince at the chest pains that told me my heart was not pleased with me. Not pleased at all. I tried not to wince at any of the other pains I felt anywhere else on my body either, but that was pretty much a lost cause. I couldn't move quickly and the blood dripping down my hands made the glass slippery.
I picked up the large pieces of glass by hand, dropping them into the newspaper lined plastic bag of the bin and then excused myself to fetch the tools needed to sweep up the rest of the glass. My limping gait, bleeding wounds and half swollen face drew many looks out in the corridor and down stairs.
I swept up the glass with broom and dustpan, using tissues to wipe up my blood and decided that the mopping with disinfectant would be fine to do after these guests left. After cleaning the cleaning tools clean of my blood with a disinfectant wet wipe, I put them away, trying to catch any more of the blood trickling down my body from my many wounds.
"Stop," I heard a voice from behind me and paused to carefully turn around so that I wouldn't fall. The dark shadow lord had followed me out and down the stairs.
"Sit," he pointed at a random empty chair in the hallway. Thankfully one of the vinyl ones that would be easy to clean up before I dripped blood all over it.
I shook my head.
"I'm sorry, sir, I have to return to the staffroom to see to my wounds before I return to continue my work," I apologised to the man. His frowning face grew a little gloomier, as if he wasn't used to his orders being thwarted.
"Darling," the manager came rushing over after somebody had obviously run to inform him. "What are you doing out here?"
I caught Ted's pitying eyes looking at me from across the dance floor in front of the bar. He turned his head to speak to somebody, and then I heard Chef's familiar roar of anger.
Chef rushed out, wiping his hands and taking off his apron, tossing it at one of his under-chefs. The Chef's unhappy and disappointed gaze cut more than the glass shards in my skin.
Chef was one of those few kind and righteous people who cared about little people like me. He had taken me under his wing back in the day, taught me a lot and I looked up to him like a father figure. What he said and how he felt carried a lot of weight. Much more than the manager's or many other people's in my heart.
He spotted the surgical scar on my chest and the bleeding surgical wound on my abdomen that had both barely healed and his lips twisted. I saw moisture in his eyes and fury between his brows when he glared at the dark warlord and the manager.
"Who hurt Jane?" he bellowed, looking around for the culprit and picking me up to hurriedly carry me to the staff dressing room. "Mon cherie, tell Chef. Who's the idiot who dared to beat you up like this? You just had open chest - open heart surgery, not long ago, didn't you? And you still dare come to work in a place like this? You've got guts, Jane, mon cherie. You've got some real guts."
"You're bleeding all over the carpet and you've ruined your outfit," the manager muttered at me underneath Chef's bellows. "The cleaning and loss of the outfit will be coming out of your pay."
"It will not!" shouted Chef hotly at the manager, interrupting his own rant.
It was a good thing that despite it being daytime and there being more patrons than usual here at this time of the day, most people who were visiting the clubhouse were in private rooms and not in the open bar or dance floor area.
"Chef, put me down," I patted his shoulder, leaving a bloody mark. I made a face and didn't dare pat him again. "I can walk."
"You can walk, but you can barely keep your balance with that ankle ballooning up like that and looking like you're going to faint any moment," Chef snorted. "You look like you just took a beating."
"I did. This isn't that bad," I rasped in my hoarse voice. "Things could have been worse. I can still work."
"Exactly," nodded the manager. "This is nothing."
"Nothing?" Chef sneered. "The girl has obviously recently had open heart surgery. The scar has barely healed and you purposely sent her to serve a room you knew would likely be violent in order to 'teach her a lesson' for not coming to work here for such a long time. That way they can tenderise her and prevent her from fighting back when you later trap her in a room for your so called punishment and your sick games. You dare continue to exploit this good girl and try to turn her, you dare steal her pay or cut her pay or try to steal her compensation money and I quit. You can be the one to tell the boss why I'm quitting. I've had it to here," Chef gestured over his head with one hand, while still carrying me stably with the other arm, "with you and your 'new rules', taking advantage of all the girls. How many good girls have you ruined now? I barely managed to save Jane from you last time and I sure as hell aren't going to let you touch her anymore this time."
The dark warlord opened the dressing room door and Chef carried me in to sit me on a chair.
"Look at you," he told me with tears in his eyes, pointing at the mirror. "Look at yourself."
My red, swollen and bruised neck was dripping blood in a pattern that looked not unlike a strange bloody necklace. There were bits of glass embedded in my skin all over and my face was pretty much unrecognisable from the swelling. A man's large handprint was pretty evident there. There were bruises here and there from where I had been kicked with a fist sized bruise growing on my abdomen. The healing surgical wound on my upper right abdomen had split open in a gaping mess. The belly dancer's outfit was streaked with blood and torn all over as if I had just survived some sort of disaster. My right ankle was slowly swelling up to ruin the symmetry of my legs, while my legs were dripping and streaked with blood all over as if I had smeared blood on me for fun.
"Don't cry, Chef," I murmured. "This is nothing. Compared to other stuff, this..."
"Mon cherie," Chef glared at me, angrily yanking the first aid box out of the manager's reluctant hands and opened it to start dressing my wounds, "what did I tell you last time? People who know how to respect themselves are in turn given respect. Yes, this is small stuff, but your life, cherie, your life is big stuff. Your life matters. You can't keep putting your life in the hands of petty little men with egos and willies as small as peanuts like him," Chef pointed at the manager.
"Oi!" the manager exclaimed, looking very affronted. "I'll have you know-"
"That your guts are as teeny tiny as your willy is small," sneered Chef. "Keep talking. Go on. You keep talking and seeing whether or not I break my promise to the boss and don't do away with you some dark and stormy night. Nobody would even notice when you've been minced and cooked into meat patties to feed the stray dogs and cats out back."
The manager's chest heaved with anger, but he stopped talking and didn't even dare to make another peep.
"This is girl was one of the few waitresses that did her work seriously and because she refused your advances and I told her to not come back, you decided to change your so-called made up rules to take it out onto the other girls," Chef growled, focusing on the wounds at my neck while the dark shadow lord took charge of my abdomen.
The manager was dealing with the glass shards and wounds on my back. Apparently the wounds there were worse than the ones on my legs.
"You're going to need to go to the hospital to get stitches for this," the dark shadow lord poked my abdominal surgical wound, making me flinch.
"Ow."
"Jane, you'd better come clean. Who are those abominable culprits? You tell me and I'll have them killed." Chef said while dabbing away blood gently.
The staffroom door opened and Meriya skidded in.
"Jane! I heard you got..."
"Get back out to work," the manager lifted his head so that he would be visible to Meriya and said in a flat voice.
"I've got her, sweetie," Chef spared her a look and waved her away. "You can rest assured that she will be taken care of and justice served. Little Willy has his undies in a knot, so it'd be best you stay away for now."
Meriya took in a deep breath and left the room again.
"You," the manager hissed at Chef and Chef gave him a hard smile.
The manager quailed and ducked back behind me again where he would be out of Chef's line of sight.
"Mon cherie," Chef tapped my nose. "The cultprits. Spill."
"The culprits are small fry. My men," said the dark shadow lord, without looking up. "Seeing as this interesting little waitress who can quote the rulebook is under your protection, I'll be sure to teach them a lesson when we're done here and when I get back. No need to trouble yourself."
"Your men, huh?" Chef glowered. "Then you'd better deal with them to my satisfaction or I'll be visiting."
"No need. No need to make a move," the dark shadow lord held up a hand. "I've got this. I don't want to trouble the number one..."
"Zip it," Chef barked and the shadow lord immediately straightened up and zipped his lips with wide eyes. "Mon cherie is innocent. Let's keep it that way."
"Understood," the dark shadow lord twitched his nose.
The dressing room door burst open again and the clubhouse boss stalked in, with a couple of his stickybeaking friends on his heels.
"Chef, I heard there was a ruckus and an injured waitress had you run out of the kitchen bellowing like a bull. Ergh," the clubhouse boss froze at the sight of the dark shadow lord turning to face him from beside me, his rumbustious voice turning into a squeak. "Umbrey. You're here."
"Yes. It was my boys who messed with the wrong waitress who was trying to uphold the rules you said your clubhouse would stick to when you first established this seedy place," the dark shadow lord shrugged. "She wasn't wrong. She cited the rules and consequences like one of those professional old girls did not long after you started up and before Little Willy let his willy go to his head."
"Seedy?" the clubhouse boss squeaked with suppressed outrage. Like the rage of a little mouse before a powerful fat cat.
"I'm not Little Willy," protested the manager.
"You are now," the dark shadow lord said. "Ain't that right, Chef?"
"Exactly," said Chef with satisfaction. "Unless he'd rather be called Peanuts?"
"Little Willie or Peanuts," the dark shadow lord nodded at Chef in agreement and raised his chin at the manager. "Choose one. It will be your name in the clubhouse forever after. It can be a reminder of how little you will have left after the two of us are done with you and meted out justice for mon cherie here."
"She's my cherie, not yours," Chef argued.
"Why can't she be my cherie as well?" the dark shadow lord retorted. "Girls like her aren't just found any old where. Can't I take a shine to her as well?"
"I'm nobody's cherie," I snapped, feeling tired, uncomfortable, in pain and sick. "I have a name. Can't you all just call me by my own name?"
"Darling," said the clubhouse boss with shock and surprise at me. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to when you speak like that-"
"Zip it," commanded Chef and the dark shadow lord in unison, their combined auras surging powerfully enough that I may have fainted for a brief moment.
It was as if I had blinked but after blinking, I found myself lying down on the old couch sitting against the wall.
"I told you I heard Jane's voice," Stony Boss's voice resounded from the corridor, entering the dressing room.
"Couldn't be. She's back in the hotel..." the voice of THE biggest boss of all faded away after spotting me in the dressing room and he did a double take.
"Jane? Jane Brown? Humphrey. Chef. Umbrey. Oh. And, uh, the manager, uh, Willy, right? You're all here. Is that my Jane Brown?"
"Your Jane Brown?" Chef and the dark shadow lord echoed in disbelief.
"Willy?" spluttered the manager with clenched fists in outrage.
"My Jane Brown. My girlfriend," announced THE biggest boss of all, startling me.
"My name isn't Willy!" shouted the completely ignored manager in the background. "Don't you all look down on me just because I managed the girls."
"Girlfriend?" I stuttered. "You have to be kidding me."
"Future girlfriend then," sighed THE biggest boss of all, wrinkling his nose at me. "I'll convince you one day, Jane."
"Seamus. Stony," the clubhouse boss, Chef and the dark shadow lord all returned the greeting. Except for the manager who was still spluttering in his affront and still being completely ignored. It seemed that they all knew each other.
"You can't treat me like this even if you don't like me," the manager muttered. "My name isn't Willy. See whether I'll get any girls to serve you lot next time."
The dark shadow lord used one finger on the managers's head to push him down until he was squatting on the floor.
"Don't interrupt or make a fuss when people bigger than you, little man, are talking," the dark shadow lord warned and then looked pointedly at the clubhouse boss. "Humphrey, people have told you before and I'm telling you for the last time, clean up your people or they will be cleaned up for you in a way you don't like and could be detrimental to your business."
"Fine," the clubhouse boss rolled his eyes. "It's just that..."
"Nephew or cousin or relative or not, he's dead meat," Chef interrupted. "As are anyone else who won't play by the rules we all agreed on at the beginning. If your relatives have something to say, why don't you arrange an appointment for me to have a nice little chat with them. I guarantee that they'll never bother you again."
The clubhouse boss opened and closed his mouth a few times, turned a few different shades of colour and then looked up at the ceiling, taking a few deep breaths.
"Actually, that might not be a bad idea," the dark shadow lord rubbed his nose. "We'll be imposing on you for a few days then, Humph."
Chef and the dark shadow lord exchanged ferocious grins that made me shudder. And seeing me shudder so violently, they paused to retract their bloodthirsty aura. Meanwhile the clubhouse boss had facepalmed and somebody had covered my eyes and someone else had covered my ears.
I suppose Chef isn't as righteous and clean as I thought he was? Did I want to know anymore than that? Not really. The most important thing is that he was on my side and I wasn't going to be dying anytime soon or ground into meat patties to be fed to stray cats and dogs.
"Keep Jane out of this," said the muffled voice of Stony Boss.
"Of course," chorused the dark shadow lord and Chef with equally gentle grins that I could see through the gaps of the fingers covering most of my vision. Their gentle grins turned harsh the moment they landed on the clubhouse boss and the manager.
"Boys," said the clubhouse boss with a deep sigh. "Take him away."
There was the disgusting stench of pee and the sound of a screaming manager, along with the sounds of a scuffle that faded away. I tried to pry the hands on my eyes off to see, but they completely covered my vision.
"I'm sorry," said the clubhouse boss into the ensuing silence, "but if she's your girl, what are you doing letting her work in a place like this? If you can't afford to look after your own girl, you don't deserve to have her."
"I'll take her if you don't want her," said the overly bright voice of the dark shadow lord. "You should have seen her earlier, still trying to educate my rough minions, spouting the rules almost chapter and verse while they were roughing her up."
"I'm glad you mentioned that," Chef's voice said and I heard the cracking of knuckles. "I haven't even dealt with you yet for just sitting back and watching her being made fun of by your own boys."
"Oh. It was your fault, huh?" said THE biggest boss of all in a mild voice.
"Excuse me while I take her to the hospital," said Stony Boss in a frosty voice, hoisting me up into the air, while I yelped in alarm. He carried me out while I heard short yips and shrieks of pain from two different men behind me in the dressing room while Stony Boss carried me away.
Meriya watched with wide eyes and Stony Boss paused by her side.
"You're the most senior waitress here without Little Willy around, right?" Stony Boss asked her.
"Little Willy?" Meriya looked at me with confusion and alarm.
"He means the pervert manager," I told her.
"Oh. Yes. Jane is the next most senior after me. Is she hurt? Are you taking her away..."
"You used to work here regularly?" Stony Boss turned a stony stare on me.
"Y-yeah," I ventured.
"All the unspoken rules are being cancelled. We're going to go back to the original rules and going to enforce them from now on. Make sure everyone is informed. You'll be in charge tonight until Humphrey can find a replacement manager. If you do well, Humphrey might even decide to promote you and make you manager," said Stony Boss. "Make a good show of it. Don't worry if today and tonight become a mess. Your boss will clean up after you. I'm taking Jane back to the hospital where the doctors and I are going to give her a very large and strong piece of mind."
I covered my face with my hands.
"Please look after her, sir," Meriya told him. "Jane's a good girl."
"I know. Why do you think I'm furious to find her working in a place like this when she's meant to be on sick leave?"
Ugh. I was in big trouble. Very big trouble.
"Also," Meriya added after Stony Boss had taken two steps away, causing him to stop and turn around again with me still in his arms and getting bloodstains all over his expensive suit and shirt. His expensive clothes were going to be ruined. Ruined. How was I going to get all the blood stains out of them when they were only meant to be dry cleaned? "the manager may have done something to her in the dressing room earlier. He kept her in there long after the rest of us were dressed and had started work."
"No, no," I uncovered my face to shake my head and belay what Meriya was saying before Stony Boss blew his top any further. "He didn't do anything much to me. He just played dress ups with me as the doll and threatened me a bit. That's all. It was nothing new."
"You call it nothing, Jane," said Meriya in a heavy voice, "but a male supervisor isn't supposed undress his female subordinates so that he can touch and comment on the naked bodies of his subordinates, even less sexually harass them and coerce them into giving him 'service' or 'favours' to please him. It isn't normal work etiquette, even in a shady place like this."
"Huh?" I cocked my head. "It's not?"
The managers's behaviour wasn't normal? But the manager at the other place I worked at used to be just as bad. If not worse. He always left bruises in the places he groped. I thought all places like this were the same.
"Sir, you might want to educate her a bit," Meriya pointed out helplessly. "I've never succeeded in correcting her crooked understanding of things in the world. Maybe you will."
"No," I protested. "That sort of thing is only normal in places like this, right?"
"You work in other places like this?" Stony Boss lowered his head stare at me eye to eye until I surrendered and covered my face again. "Thank you," he said to Meriya. "I'll take your words into consideration."
And I was whisked away wrapped in his suit jacket to the hospital where the medical staff were horrified by the state I had come in. I was still bleeding.
I'm tired.
Enough for today.