But he left me, I want to argue, but bite my tongue. Darla doesn’t know Morgan. Her words feel as meaningless as all of the other kind and encouraging platitudes I’ve heard from other women in the last six months.
Oh well, at least the cards didn’t predict my death or great tragedy in my future. Darla puts the cards away and studies me for a moment.
“Are you ready for your first night at the Korean Restaurant? It’s going to be a wild night. I do security for Wild Hare every once in a while, so I’ll be at the club while you’re training. Tonight they’re having a special show.”
“A special show? At a strip club?”
Darla grins. “For one night only. It’s the Fire-Breathing Dragonia Experience.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
Darla snorts. “Yeah, it’s going to be a crazy time.”
Chapter Eight
In Which The Fire-Breathing Dragonia Experience Really Makes a Splash
The crowd of people already sitting in the restaurant at midnight makes me wish I’d fought the cats for my fair share of the bed space and taken a nap while I still had the chance. Every single table in the tiny restaurant is full. Soojin, of course, is moving efficiently between the kitchen and the dining area with superhuman speed as I walk into the late-night rush at a quarter to midnight.
“Oh, good, you’re early,” she says, handing me an apron. “Can you take care of the front? I’m behind in the kitchen.”
Thus begins and ends my training. I wrap the apron around my waist, find a notepad and pen, and head out to the dining area, trying to remember the things waitresses have done for me in the past.
Do I know what I’m doing? Absolutely not. Do I end up bringing the wrong food to the wrong table? Twice, but thankfully, everyone’s a good sport about it. By one a.m, things have cleared out and calmed down. I clean off the tables, wipe everything down, and set out the limited breakfast menus that Soojin uses after midnight.
“Hey, Red, can you take an order over to the club for me?”
That stops me.
“To the club? Like walk in there?”
So I guess I’ll be seeing Zach more than I’d hoped. Damn, it’s really going to sting when he brings his next girl by.
“If you really don’t want to go in, I won’t make you, but I’ll have to leave you here alone with the restaurant while I’m gone.”
That settles it for me. I shake my head. “No. It’ll be okay,” I say, taking the heavy paper bag from her. “I’m a big girl. I can do it.”
“Your face says otherwise.”
I huff a laugh. “My face says many things, but my feet are walking.”
“Watch for the potholes!” she warns as I step outside the back of the restaurant and head across the parking lot to the Wild Hare Ranch.
Outside, the pink neon sign that advertises the club’s name flashes slowly off and on, casting an eerie glow across the mostly quiet lot. A few people here and there leave and enter, but for the most part, it seems like the show is still in full swing. The parking lot is full, and cars are parked in the lots adjacent to the club as well.
I take a deep breath and approach the door. It’s the same beefy man with unnaturally dark red skin, standing watch. He’s wearing all black tonight–a tight black t-shirt, black jeans, and black boots. It’s freezing cold outside, but apparently, the temperature does nothing to him. He stands as if it was a warm night, arms folded across his chest.
“Ah, so I was right, you are Red.” he says as I stop in front of him.
“Uh–”
His eyes flicker across my face and he starts laughing. “I guess we both are.”
I wait for him to stop laughing at his own joke. “This is for Randy. Where do I leave it?”
“Tough crowd tonight, huh?” he says with a sigh. “You know where the bathroom is? Head past it and his office will be on the right.”
I nod and rush past him into the club, hoping he can’t see how my face and hair must match at this point. Inside, a wall of smoke hits me immediately. Almost like a smoke machine at a concert, but this is different…almost…minty? Minty smoke sounds so wrong, but I can’t think of any other way to describe it.