“Mel, can you take these to the VIP section?” James handed Mel a tray holding two bottles of top-shelf champagne and half a dozen crystal flutes.
“Sure.” Mel gritted her teeth. There were two ways that a customer could get into the VIP section. One was fame. That got them in for free. The second was money. So much money that even the regular patrons couldn’t afford it. Serving in the VIP section meant big tips; however, VIPs tended to be far more demanding. Mel had quickly learned how to deal with difficult customers, but that made it no less stressful.
Mel made her way through the crowd, balancing the tray carefully in her hands. The contents were worth more than her entire bank account. She couldn’t help but feel nervous about toting a small fortune in fragile glass in a crowded room.
She climbed the steps up to the VIP area. A group of men were seated around the table. As Mel approached them, one of them let out a drunken cheer. Great, frat bros in suits. As she reached the table, another man stood up and swiveled toward her. His arm hit the tray in Mel’s hands and it fell to the floor with a loud crash, leaving Mel standing in a puddle of champagne and broken glass. She cursed under her breath.
“What the fuck?” The hulking man leapt back.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Mel said as politely as she could manage. He was the one who had knocked everything out of her hands. But she wasn’t about to argue with him. She grabbed the dish towel from her apron and tried in vain to contain the spill.
“Look. Look at my shoes!” The man waved his foot in front of Mel’s face. There was a tiny spot on his suede shoe. It could have been anything. “Do you have any idea how much these cost?” His face was bright red.
Mel stood up. “I’m sorry. Let me go get-”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. “Sorry isn’t good enough.”
Mel froze. His clammy hand felt like a vice around her arm. She could smell the cigarettes and alcohol on his breath. Before she could react, a voice rang out from behind the man.
“Take your hands off her. Now.”
The man released Mel. She looked over his shoulder. It was the woman in the ivory dress from earlier. She had her hand on the man’s shoulder and a look on her face that sent a chill down Mel’s spine.
“Get out,” the woman said, her voice cold and clear. “And take your friends with you.”
The man looked her up and down. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m the owner of this establishment.”
Mel’s eyes widened. She was the owner of The Lounge?
The man scoffed and looked over at his friends. They averted their eyes and shifted in their seats. He looked back at the woman. “You own this place?”
“That’s right. Get out of my club. Now.”
The woman stared at the man, her face set like stone. He stared back at her, eyes narrowed. He was easily twice her size, but she held his stare.
Finally, the man looked away. “Like I’d want to stay in a place like this anyway,” he mumbled. He turned to his friends. “Let’s get out of here.”
He grabbed his jacket and walked off toward the door. The others filed out after him, looking sheepish and apologetic. The woman watched them leave, a dark look on her face. As soon as they were out the door, she turned back to Mel.
“Come with me.”
Chapter Two
The woman placed her hand on Mel’s arm and guided her toward the back of the club. Mel’s head was spinning. All this time, the woman had never given any indication that she was anything but another customer. And Mel wasn’t sure how to feel about being ‘rescued.’ She wasn’t some helpless damsel. Mel could have dealt with the customer herself, yet she couldn’t deny how this woman’s hand on her arm sent her pulse racing.
The woman led Mel into a dark corridor tucked away in the corner. As far as Mel knew, all that was down there was a fire exit. To her surprise, there was another door to the right of them that was barely visible in the dim light. The woman opened the door. Mel followed her up a flight of stairs to another door. The woman typed a code into a keypad and the lock on the door clicked open.
Mel followed her into the room. It resembled a generously-sized hotel room, with a large bed at one end and some seating arranged around a coffee table in the center. With minimalist décor and the clean, sharp angles of the furniture, the space both looked and felt immaculate.
“Sit.” The woman gestured toward a leather couch.
Mel sat down. The woman’s tone made her wonder if she was in trouble. “Is this about the broken bottles? It was an accident, he-”
“I didn’t bring you in here to reprimand you. The loss of a couple of bottles of champagne won’t make the slightest dent in the club’s profits.”
“Oh.” That didn’t make Mel feel any less restless. “Then why did you bring me back here?”