Instead of shattering glass, the repetitive pounding of fists against my bedroom door is what wakes me from my early morning slumber. I groggily lift my head and fight the urge to scream.

"What?" I groan.

Silence.

I shove my face back into my pillow and wait.

One.

Two.

Three.

The pounding continues. Pissed, I throw myself out of bed, unlock the door, and fling it open.

"What?!" I scream.

Mom takes a step back and runs a hand through her tangled greying hair, pausing before muttering a quiet, "Dina's on her way to get me. I need some money."

Oh, what the fuck. The first words she's spoken to me in days and of course it's to borrow money.

"No," I grit out. I clench my hands around the door frame and take a deep breath, so full of anger.

Instead of walking away, mom decides that if I won't give her the money, she'll get it for herself. She tries to shove me backwards into my room, eyes zeroed in on the wallet sitting on top of my bedside table.

I stay still and dig the heels of my feet into the ugly maroon carpet below. When she shoves me again and I don't budge, she gets angry.

"Get out of my fucking way! This is my fucking house!" she screams, pushing roughly at my chest.

I stay quiet, knowing that if I open my mouth right now I'll only piss her off further.

This is one of those times where I hate that we're so much alike. Both so stubborn, so bitter. So full of anger, all the goddamn time.

Luckily, Savannah makes her way down the hall, ready to intervene. She's dressed and ready for school in a simple sweatshirt and pair of ripped jeans, dark brown locks pulled into a messy ponytail and face bare of any makeup. I eye the wad of bills clutched tightly in her palms and force myself to stare at a random spot on the wall above her head.

The cash successfully deters mom and once she has it in her grip, she wastes no time in making her way down the hall. Savannah and I stay quiet as we wait for the front door to slam.

A tight ball of anxiety builds in my chest and I swallow harshly. "What time is it?" I rasp. I lean my head against the door frame and take a deep breath. In, out.

Sav sighs and wrings her hands together, "Seven fifteen. I need to leave soon or I'll miss the bus."

Its quiet for a split second before she speaks again. Her voice is soft, almost nervous, "Can I borrow some lunch money?"

"Obviously," I laugh softly and step back into my room, reaching for the wallet mom was trying to steal. I pull out a few bills and shove them into her hands, trying to ignore the heavy weight of guilt that crawls up my throat. She shouldn't be scared to ask for lunch money, and I feel so fucking guilty that she has to even ask in the first place.

She deserves the goddamn world and I so badly wish that I could give it to her.

She's quiet as we pad down the hall. The house is messy and so quiet its almost deafening. I lean against the kitchen counter and watch as Sav shoves loose papers into her backpack, zips it up, and throws it over one shoulder.

I decide to break the silence. "I got fired from O'Nelly's last night," I murmur. My stone cold heart breaks in two as I witness a look of anguish and a brief flash of panic cross her features.

She looks up at me, dark brown doe eyes wide and nervous, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

"What are we gonna do?"

I shake my head and spin around so I can turn the coffee pot on.

"You are going to go to school and be a good student. I'll check the paper and see if anything is available. My shift at RJ's ends at four, so maybe I can swing by some places after. I'll call if I'm gonna be out late."

I pull a mug from the cabinet above my head and pour myself a generous amount of the steaming caffeine. These past few days have been more exhausting than usual and I feel dead.

"I could-"

I cut her off before she can finish her sentence and flash her a cheesy smile as I swivel back around to face her.

"Nope!" I motion to the clock on the microwave, "You better go before you miss the bus again, though. See you tonight. Learn something!"

Sav scowls and shuffles through the door, pulling it closed firmly behind her.

I sigh as I glance around. Dirty dishes are piled high in the sink, the garbage can in the corner is overflowing, and mail is strewn across the counter and small dining table.

I busy myself with chores; cleaning, washing, and scrubbing every surface while I bop and sing along to the heavy rock music pouring from our outdated radio. After mopping the floor, vacuuming the living room and hallway, and folding a basket of laundry taller than I am, I'm pouring with sweat.

I make my way to the bathroom, strip, and happily shower. The water pressure sucks, but the scalding water is better than nothing and relaxes the built-up tension in my muscles.

Exactly seven minutes later I pad to my room and get dressed for work. My white t-shirt is tight against my chest and the small animated print of a milkshake, burger, fries, and the words "RJ's" rests proudly on the left corner and takes up a majority of the back. I pull a pair of ripped jeans up my legs and lace up my high top converse.

In the bathroom I slap a crap ton of concealer on the bags under my eyes, brush a few coats of mascara through my thick lashes, and pull my still damp hair into a high, messy ponytail. I don't bother brushing it, knowing that if I do I'll end up looking like a lion by the time my shift is over.

Apron and purse in hand, I lock the front door, make my way down the porch steps, and begin my short walk to work in the hot Memphis heat.

——

"Wait. Okay, so let me get this straight. Some asshole was harassing you, inappropriately touching you, and when you defend yourself you're the one who gets the shitty end of the stick?!" Sidney pauses from wiping down the booths and stares at me in bewilderment.

"Trust me, I don't understand it either," I snort and continue refilling empty ketchup bottles.

It's nearing 3:45 and RJ's is empty. Only one customer sits in the entire diner, a quiet elderly man drinking coffee and flipping through the daily paper at the tall counter. Two other servers sit in a booth in the far corner, engrossed in their cell phones. Muffled laughter can be heard from the cooks and bus boys in the back.

Sid and I take the slow business and peace and quiet as an opportunity to gossip. I'm filling her in on yesterday's events, and updating her on my plans for today.

Sidney huffs and shoots me a sympathetic frown, "That's so fucking stupid. I'm so sorry, babe."

I shrug and carry the tray of ketchup bottles to kitchen, store them under the counter, and fix myself a to-go cup of coffee. Still feeling half dead.

I almost scream in frustration when the bell above the door jingles, but I relax when I see that it's just Lincoln here to pick Sidney up.

According to Sid they've already made up from their latest argument, one that was so trivial and petty that neither of them can even remember what it was about.

Lincoln swoops in and lifts Sid off her feet, muttering a quiet "Hey, baby," before proceeding to shove his tongue down her throat.

I smirk and walk back to the kitchen, clock out for the day, and grab my purse. The happy (for now) couple breaks apart as I walk up to them.

"Hey, Aria. How's it going?" Lincoln grins, wrapping his arms around Sidney and nuzzling his face into her neck.

Ugh. Feelings. Emotions. Love. Gross.

"Pretty shitty, actually," I grin, "know of anybody in town that's hiring?"

Linc surprises me by saying, "Yeah, I do actually. You leaving RJ's?"

I fill him in on my current situation and a little tiny bit of hope bubbles in my chest when he yells, "Shit, really? You know that expensive night club on the North Side? Saw a sign out front that it's under new management now."

"Wait, really?" I question. Holy shit. I don't visit the North Side much, but I know what club he's talking about. Vice. The line to get in is usually two blocks long, so I know for a fact that the tips there have to be fucking amazing.

Please God, I don't ask for much, so if you're really out there, help a girl out. Seriously.

Linc runs a hand through his shaggy hair and shrugs. "Saw a few guys unloading and carrying stuff inside when I drove past. You need a ride? We can swing by there, let you check it out and see if you can talk to the manager."

I exhale loudly and thank him repeatedly before following him and Sidney to his massive truck.

I fidget in my seat as we make our way across town. I fumble with my ponytail, straighten my shirt, and use the camera on my phone to make sure I don't have mascara under my eyes.

I sigh when we finally pull up to the curb. I thank Linc and Sidney for the ride, and wave them off when they offer to wait out front for me. I reassure Sid that I'll catch a cab and update her as soon as we clock in tomorrow.

I take a deep breath and peer up at the building in front of me. Vice is mesmerizing. The structure is tall, and although the dark red brick matches some of the other buildings on the street, the place manages to look sleek and modern with huge double doors and fairy lights strung in the trees that line the sidewalk.

I'm oddly nervous for some reason and I can't pin point exactly why. And being nervous makes me even more nervous, because I'm never fucking nervous. So, what the fuck?

I mentally chide myself for being anxious for no reason and follow the sound of men talking, which ultimately leads me to the side of the building. From here I can see that there's a truck parked to the side, the back wide open. When I walk closer I realize that there are boxes of alcohol stacked inside, each box labeled with a different brand.

The door on the side of the building is propped open by a crate, and I take this as an invitation to wander inside.

I'm 100% aware that I'm trespassing, but the door was wide fucking open. So, sue me.

Actually, don't. I can't afford a lawyer.

The inside of the place leaves me in awe. A huge round bar sits in the middle of the open space, randomly scattered tables with chairs propped on top surrounding it. On each side of the bar are two flights of stairs, each leading to the elevated platform above. Holy shit. Now I see why this place is so expensive and hard to get into. It's really fucking nice.

I walk towards the bar and run a hand across the clean, sleek surface, entranced by the wealth literally oozing off of every crevice in this joint.

The sound of someone clearing their throat snaps me out of my daze and I nearly jump out of my skin. I spin around and stop dead in my tracks when I see the guy standing on the staircase to my right. Holy fucking shit.

He's tall. Really tall. Like, even though he's standing on the second to last step of the staircase, I can still tell that he easily towers over six feet. Dark hair sits atop his head, sinfully and sexily messy, and eyes so bright and blue I wouldn't be surprised if they glow in the dark. Stubble lines his sharp jaw and full cheek bones, and my eyes travel down his t-shirt clad chest. I'm immediately drawn to his arms. They hold a clipboard and are adorned by two full sleeves of traditional style tattoos, bright and colorful and so fucking beautiful.

"We're closed." His deep voice snaps me out of my daze, and I feign nonchalance, trying so damn hard to act like I hadn't just undressed him with my eyes.

I tear my eyes from his body and make a quick show of dramatically scanning the vicinity. I motion to the table closest to me, two chairs sitting on top of it, and say, "No shit."

He raises an eyebrow and takes the final step off the stair case. He places the clipboard on the bar and crosses his arms.

"So are you gonna tell me why you're breaking and entering, or should I call the cops?" he asks.

I cock my head to the side and raise an eyebrow of my own in faux amusement.

"Breaking and entering?" I muse, "the door was wide open. But if you really thought I was a threat to your business or safety, I wouldn't still be standing here, would I?"

He smirks and steps closer. Way too close. I'm on edge as I notice him squint his eyes at the name tag still pinned to my t-shirt.

"Okay. Aria?" he questions, "why are you standing in the middle of my club at," he glances at the watch on his left wrist, "4:30 in the afternoon?"

I sigh and stand up straighter, pushing my shoulders back and say, "I need a job. Are you hiring?"

He frowns in confusion, looking from my face to the logo on my t-shirt. I ignore his penetrating gaze and repeat the question.

He sighs and scrubs a hand across his chin before saying, "We were. Filled the last few positions the other day. I'm sorry."

The hope in my chest deflates like a popped balloon, but I don't let my disappointment show. I've mastered my resting bitch face, so I know the only emotion etched across my face is faux boredom.

Fake it til you make it, right?

"Don't be," I quip.

I pause, ready to walk out, but instead I clear my throat and ask him, "Can I take an application and leave my resume with you? Just in case anything changes?"

He hesitates for a minute before nodding. I watch as he disappears behind the bar for a moment, and when he stands he holds a small packet that's been stapled together.

I dig my resume from my purse and hand it to him wordlessly, trading it for the packet in his hand.

He scans it briefly and looks like he wants to ask me a question, but I cut him off before he can. "Thanks. Give me a call if anything becomes available. And, uh..sorry. For ambushing you like this."

He rakes his blue eyes over my petite frame, his slow perusal igniting a fire deep in my belly I forgot I possessed.

He clears his throat, nods, and I step around him and walk away before he can say anything else.

Once I make it around the building, I step on the sidewalk and pull my phone out, already dialing the number for the local cab company. I ask the guy on the other end to pick me up one block down, and I start heading that way after he hangs up.

I audibly sigh and fight the urge to board a Greyhound and tail it outta town. The anxiety is back, and it's grip is tight and suffocating.

I snap myself out of my pity party and roll my head back against my shoulders. I straighten up and plaster on my signature bitch face, determined to let this roll right off my back with the rest of the bullshit I endure on the daily.

I guess I'll just have to keep looking.

——