18

IN THE BUSTLING streets of the city, where shadows danced with secrets and every alley whispered tales of its own, I was running my ass off trying to make it to work on time or at least be a little less late than I already am. I struggle with my wrinkled white dress shirt, barely managing to tighten the black tie around my neck as I keep a steady pace into the restaurant. I was racing against the clock, arriving a little late to work because I stayed up all night making sure Stone was okay when I didn't even have myself in check, but it was not my fault. How was I supposed to know that a man as big as him could be such a lightweight?

My apologies echo through La Crème like distant sirens. My manager, Mr. Thompson, a stern figure that reminded me of the grandpa from that one cartoon show with the dog who's always scared called me into his office before I could even grab my valet jacket for tonight.

I walked into his office with hesitation dragging at my feet, the scent of coffee mingling with the tension in the air. "Kylo, this lateness—it's becoming a pattern," Mr. Thompson began, his tone full of sternness and authority. I shifted uneasily, eyes downcast to the floor. "I know, Mr. Thompson. I'm sorry. It's just so much has been happening lately and I-

"Like what," He doesn't let me finish, a strong brow raising on his forehead. "what possibly could keep you so busy that you damn near miss an entire week of work."

"It hasn't been an entire week—" I try to explain to the man but he doesn't seem to care for my words nor that interested in me altogether. I don't even bother trying to explain myself, my eyes rolling elsewhere as I let out a deep sigh.

How the hell am I supposed to explain to my boss that I haven't been showing up to work on time these last couple of days because I've been keeping the most dangerous man in the city company? There isn't a way I can explain something like that to anyone without them either looking at me crazy or calling the police so my only option left is instead to shrug my shoulders at Thompson, eyes looking up to meet his strict stare. "So what now? You gonna fire me?" I asked him boldly.

Mr. Thompson stiffened, nose raising at me. "I should. It's what you deserve . . ." he said folding his arms across his bird chest. "but there's an event we're catering coming up and we need as many people as possible for it so count your blessings." he explained and I tried not to show it but I felt a sigh of relief come over me at his words.

"Look Kylo, I understand you're just a college student, trying to make ends meet. But this job—it's important. Dependability is key."

I nod at his words, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. If only he knew that school was quite literally the least of my concerns at the moment. I remember when I first started working here after Semaj pulled a few strings and managed to land me an interview. I had told Thompson how moving to New York and attending St Mary's was a dream of mine but the cost of tuition was a bit of a struggle. He sympathized with me about that and gave me the job right away. That was almost three months ago and it's crazy how in just a few short weeks all that managed to change — much has changed actually.

I'm no longer that struggling student I was before — well sorta kinda. I have enough to pay off a semester and I'm sure if I were to ask a certain someone he wouldn't mind paying everything off for me completely. If I had a mind or two I would shout at Thompson and tell him how I technically don't even need this fuck ass job and if he knew who I had in my corner he wouldn't feel so brave to be standing in front of me right now looking down on me with his bird chest like I'm so poor street kid who he's doing a favor by letting work here.

Wait . . .

My thoughts raced as I shook the irrational ideas from my head. What the hell am I thinking?

I've been hanging around that big bad mafia boss a little too long. The hell? I would never rely on the dangerous generosity of Stone. I like my job, okay maybe not like but it's okay at times and I have no reason to let go of the independence. I'm brought back to realization when Thompson tosses my work jacket at me and I barely managed to catch it in time. "Get to work Kylo," he said as he brushed past me.

••••

As afternoon turned into night and the city continued its relentless dance, I found myself finally able to breathe when it was time for my break. As I sat at a small table outside the restaurant, enjoying a brief respite from the chaos of the valet stand, Semaj joined me. His usual easygoing demeanor was overshadowed by a furrowed brow, a silent indicator of the tension brewing beneath the surface.

"Fuck Thompson bald head ass," he said, voice filled with bitterness. "he's such a dick and that's why he's single, thirty, and lives with a roommate in a studio apartment." I let out a small laugh at Semaj's brewing anger. It's so hard to take him seriously sometimes because he's so damn goofy even in moments where I know he's not trying to be.

"You better than me," he continues, reaching over and grabbing from the bowl of fries between us that one of the cooks brought out to us. "I would've made one phone call that would've shut all that down. The whole restaurant would've been closed because my boyfriend shot the manager."

"First of all, Stone is not my boyfriend . . ." I sighed, running a hand through my hair, still reeling from the confrontation. "and second, he's not some weapon of mass destruction I can use whenever things aren't going my way."

"I would've made that call as soon as Thompson raised his voice at me," Semaj kisses his teeth before tossing another fry in his mouth.  "and it's not like he can fire you. He knows we're already short-staffed as it is."

"He didn't fire me because he wants to cater some yacht party coming up," I tell him.

Semaj nodded sympathetically, his eyes reflecting understanding. "Man, that shit is gonna suck ass. He asked me to do that shit too when the last thing I want to do on a weekend is spend it carrying around food I can't even pronounce for people whose bank accounts have numbers I'll never see in my lifetime."

I shrugged, the salty taste of the fries lingering in my mouth. "At least we know the tips will be good," I tell him, popping in another.

He leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "Fuck it, since Thompson is taking away our rights next weekend let's go out tonight. We'll be getting off in like an hour and it'll only be 10 pm which means by the time we go home and get ready it'll be like 11-"

"Fuck it let's go." I didn't even give him a chance to finish his explanation, and I could tell he wasn't expecting such a quick response from me because Semaj quickly tilted his head at me.

"Excuse me?"

"Let's go out tonight," I began, my voice low. "after the last couple of days I've had I need to do something for my enjoyment for once."

Semaj reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Who the hell are you and what have you done with Kylo Noa Johnson?" he shakes me.

I pushed his hands off me. "I'm serious Semaj."

His expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. "I know but usually when I ask you to go out I have to butter you up a little bit before I can get you to agree."

His words resonated within me. I didn't realize how much I longed for a release, a moment of respite from the endless demands and expectations from dance and work that threatened to suffocate me. Tonight, I just want to let loose, to forget about snooty customers, and dance performance pressures and expectations, if only for a few fleeting hours. The idea of hitting the clubs and dancing until the early hours of the morning, beckons to me like a siren's song. For once, I want to throw caution to the wind, to embrace the exhilarating rush of spontaneity and freedom.

There's a nagging voice in the back of my mind that reminds me of the consequences of my actions but I block it out the best I can.

"Let's just go out tonight and have fun. Just us." The allure of escapism is too tempting to resist. Maybe, just for tonight, I'll indulge in a little bit of reckless abandon, allowing myself to be swept away by the intoxicating whirl of music and laughter. "Fuck it let's do it." Semaj clasped his hands together, rubbing them together like an evil mastermind.

"Wait, we drinking dark and white?" I asked.

Semaj made a face at me and shrugged. "Both?"

"Exactly," we said in unison like the two dumbass best friends we are. With a grateful nod, I accepted his offer, knowing that amid chaos, this friendship could be the anchor that keeps me grounded when everything else around me starts to feel a little bit too much.

••••

As the bass thumped through the walls, I rifled through my closet, tossing shirts and jeans aside in frustration. "Why is it so hard to find something to wear!?" I screamed out in frustration, tossing another shirt across the room. I look around at the mess I've made in a couple of minutes all because I need to find an outfit. I just cleaned my room and now it looks like a tornado came through this bitch and turned it every way but loose.

Meanwhile, I can hear Semaj in the kitchen rapping along to the music halfway through a bottle of tequila, throwing shots back like it was nothing. I poke my head out at him catching him two-step and he freezes in his steps when he notices me. "Come on, man! The night's waiting for us!" he pours another shot before walking over to me.

"I know I know," I say taking the shot from him and throwing it to the back of my throat, the liquid burning my tongue and everything else it touched. "I just need to find something to wear."

Semaj's eyes roll to the side as he takes the shot glass away from me. "Hurry up or else I'm gonna be all sobered up before we even walk out the door."

I make my way back into my room coming back into view with the mess I made. Just as I kicked an old hoodie away from me, his phone started to buzz on my bed. I at the screen, my brows immediately raising at the contact ID flashing across the screen: "Unknown."

Taking a deep breath, I answered with a slight pause in my words. "Stone . . ."

On the other end, the gravelly voice of the mafia boss greets me. "Where did you put the paperwork that was on the desk?" his voice is low and heavy like he's only just woken up a few moments ago.

I made a face as if he could see me, my mind racing as I thought back to the layout of his office. I know I put most of the papers in the file cabinet but I can't recall which one exactly. "Uh, I... I left them in one of the file cabinets. Was it something important?" I ask him as I make my way back over to my messy closet.

"Not really I just would like to know where it is." He answered and I heard him rummaging around.

"It would be easier if I could see the office," I say to him before pulling the phone from my ear. "hold up imma FaceTime you."

"Wait what-"

I don't give him time to respond before I switch the phone call from a regular one to a FaceTime call. To my surprise, he answers right away and I'm immediately met with a confused face Stone. I couldn't hold in my laughter at the sight of him in this relaxed state. Usually, he's always in suits and ties but over the phone right now he's just in a simple t-shirt that hung loosely from around his neck showcasing his impressive neck tattoo, and a green durag wrapped around his head proving my prediction that he was asleep correctly. I leaned onto the camera eerily with a smug smile which only made the man look at me weird over the phone.

"Hi." I peeped teasingly.

"Hi . . ." he replied dryly and I rolled my eyes at his blandness. Stone moves around and flips the camera around to the office file cabinets. "Which one?"

"The one on the end by the desk." I point as if he could get a clear sense of direction from it but I remember we're over the phone and it just looks like I'm pointing at him.

Stone nods turning the camera back to him. "Good," he responds as he opens the cabinet and sorts through the files before pulling out a single vanilla folder. I see the time staring back at me on my phone and cursing under my breath. "Shit," I prop my phone up on a pile of clothes and start trying to find something to wear again.

"And where are you off to tonight?" I heard Stone say on the phone as I rummaged through my clothes. I grab a shirt on a hanger, "Just heading to a club with Semaj. Blow off some steam, you know?" I turned back around to him just now realizing he was bare and the only thing I had on right now was pajama pants and a headscarf.

I hold up the shirt I grabbed and place it over my chest. "How does this look? You like it?"

Stone's face on the phone screen scrunched up at me. "You're going out?"

My eyes narrowed at him, not ignoring how he completely went over my question about the shirt. "Yes, I'm going out. Is that a problem sir . . ." I start to fake a posh accent, picking up the phone again. "did I need the king's permission to be let outside of the castle? Will I have to be escorted by the guards?"

There was a pause on the other end before he spoke again, his voice softer this time. "No, just be careful out there . . ." he says voice all deep and shit. I raise my right hand to give him a soldier's salute "Will do Captain."

Just as I'm about to end the call when he speaks again. "and that shirt looks nice on you by the way." he simply says and I swallowed hard, feeling a strange mix of feelings and gratitude at his words. "Really? This is the shirt that always makes my nipples show but I'll wear it. Thanks."

His eyes grow wide over the FaceTime call and he leans into the camera bit. "Wait what?"

"Alright bye, I'll talk to you later," I tell him before ending the call and tossing my phone on a nearby pile of clothes. A sudden rush of jitters fueling through my veins causing me to hug myself from the unusual feeling. Maybe it's the alcohol, yeah that makes sense. As I hung up, I realized I still hadn't put on any clothes but with the weight of Stone's words hanging over me, suddenly the choice seemed a lot less important.

As I finally slid into my favorite pair of jeans, I could hear Semaj in the kitchen, the clinking of shot glasses punctuating his impatience. He'd been ready for ages, and I knew he was itching to hit the streets and probably me at this point. But I couldn't rush these things. Just as I was about to emerge from my room, Tristian, our less-than-favorite roommate, sauntered out of his lair.

"Where're you two headed tonight?" Tristian asked, his tone casual but his eyes betraying his curiosity.

I exchanged a glance with Semaj, silently pleading for him to handle it. "He turns to Tristian. "Ruby Room. It's a pretty exclusive club. If you know you know." Semaj turns to him and answers, a little bit of exaggeration to his words. The Ruby Room is a bit exclusive some celebrities are there sometimes but because of that it's always so packed and the lines are so long, but that's why you pregame before you get to the club.

"Can't be that much in the know since I've been there many times before. I know the owner." Tristian dropped the bombshell— Semaj and I turned to each other with a mirrored look.

"Okay, you want a cookie?" I asked him, pouring myself another shot. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. Tristian is always full of surprises, and not the good kind.

"I was just saying Johnson no need to get all catty."

Before I could even respond, Semaj nudged me, urging me to cut through the nonsense. "Just spit it out, Tristian. You wanna come with us or not?"

With a low sigh and his broad shoulder shrugging, Tristian gave a slight nod. "I mean I don't have anything else better to do?"

I couldn't fight the eye roll that came over me. "You could go hang out with your girlfriend." I toss back another shot.

"I can't she's too busy practicing for tryouts for some ballet shit she has coming up. I'm shocked you aren't doing the same." He says as he disappears back into his room to get dressed, Semaj and I exchange a glance. He's not wrong I probably should be rehearsing for my performance for tryouts because I need to get that part but right now I just want to get drunk and dance with my friends (not you Tristan) and just have fun for once.

As we waited for Tristian to finish up, Semaj poured another round of shots. The anticipation bubbled in the air, mixing with the tang of alcohol and excitement. Finally, Tristian emerged dressed in his fancy clothes and cologne that made me crinkle my nose. His phone pressed to his ear as he walked over to us and down a shot so smooth it looked like one swift motion. "Yeah? Thanks, I appreciate it." he ends the call and turns to us with a smug look on his face.

"What?" Semaj and I asked in unison, causing us both to look at one another and laugh lightly.

"I confirmed our VIP status," he explained to us. "we don't have to wait in line and we got our section with a few bottles already waiting for us."

I couldn't help but crack a grin. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all. "Okay, I see them using them rich kids' powers for something good." I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little impressed and just maybe, Tristian isn't that bad after all.

••••

EXCUSE ANY MISTAKES OR ERRORS

He will not be okay . . .