Page 17 of Logan
It's a thin line between all this love and hate
And if you switch sides, you're gon' have to claim your place
So baby, this time you're gon' have to seal your fate
- ‘Hate Me’ Ellie Goulding
Tonight is my first night working at Ambrosia, and the dressing room mirror feels almost like a stranger staring back at me. The girl in the reflection doesn’t look like the one who packed up her life and came back home five weeks ago, dragging the weight of her mistakes behind her.
My hair is wild and wavy, a tumble of loose curls brushing just over the top of the black tank top with the Ambrosia logo, the fabric intentionally distressed so it looks like I’ve owned it for years. My eyes are framed in a smoky shadow that makes their green seem sharper, more deliberate. My lips stand out in a deep, confident crimson, courtesy of the lipstick Jena insisted I try. My jeans cling to my hips and thighs, the denim soft from wear but ripped along both legs, the frayed edges brushing against my skin when I move.
The door swings open, and Shaina steps in like she owns the room. One hand on her hip, the other lifting a strand of her hair from her face. Her grin is pure mischief. “Damn girl, theyare gonna eat you up out there.” She lets out a quick laugh, the sound echoing off the tiled walls. “Come on.”
I take a breath, biting my lip as I push down the sudden rush of nerves. My boots click against the floor as I follow her out into the bar area. It’s only four o’clock, so the place has that early-evening hush. The lights are dim but not yet moody, the low hum of the air conditioner mixing with the faint thump of bass from the stage speakers. The scent of beer clings to the polished wood and the faintest trace of cigarette smoke lingers near the front door.
Shaina says it usually starts picking up around six, and by nine the place is shoulder-to-shoulder with bodies. For now, the crowd is sparse. One guy nursing a beer at the bar, a few others scattered near the stage, watching without much enthusiasm.
Shaina slides behind the bar and I mirror her, stepping into a world that feels equal parts chaotic and calculated. “Okay, first rule here,” she starts, her tone somewhere between friendly and firm. “You serve people at the bar, but that’s it. The guys on the floor are the waitresses’ customers. They get all kinds of bitchy if you mess with their money. Second, most of the strippers are bitchy idiots, just ignore them. Ali doesn’t let them drink while they’re on shift, no matter how much they say she gave the okay.”
She moves to the register, tapping buttons with practiced speed. “Most of this you’ll never touch unless we get a bachelorette party in. The beer buttons are your bread and butter, and shots. Lots of shots.”
I try to absorb every word, my mind flicking between memorizing the layout and worrying about my first mistake. “Do you get a lot of the same people in?”
Shaina shrugs, her bracelets jingling. “Sometimes. The brothers show up pretty regularly.”
At the mention of the MC, my spine stiffens, muscles coiling before I can stop them. The thought of Logan walking in here makes my chest tighten, but I shove it down. I’ll just have to make sure he never sees how much just the sight of him still hits me in places I wish were numb by now.
Shaina leans against the bar, looking at me with that knowing expression she’s always had. “My jackass brother will definitely be here. Alison doesn’t deal with drama though, so I’d say just avoid him. You gotta look at this like any other job. People are assholes, but you just smile and move on.”
“I used to work for a hotel, so I definitely know how to deal with assholes,” I say with a small smile.
“You got it, girl.” She takes a few steps, then pivots back toward me, eyes narrowing with meaning. “However, you should know that Alison and the boys do not tolerate women being mistreated. If a guy goes from being a douche to seriously crossing the line, everyone will back you.”
I nod, though her words leave a question sitting heavy in my mind. I’m not entirely sure what she means by “back me,” and I’m not sure I want to find out the hard way.
A male voice cuts in from the other side of the bar. “Hey, fresh meat.”
I turn, planting one hand on my hip, summoning a smile I’ve learned to weaponize. “Name’s Mac. What can I get you?”
“How about a jack and coke, and your phone number written on the check?” His grin makes my skin crawl, something in his tone reminding me of every man who’s ever thought charm was the same thing as entitlement.
I grab the bottle of Jack, pouring the drink with steady hands while Shaina lingers beside me. When the printer spits out his bill, I scrawl down a number and slide both toward him. He peeks at it, smile widening, and drops a fifty on the counter before strolling away.
“Kenzie, you gave him your number?!” Shaina’s voice is a sharp whisper against my ear.
I shake my head, laughing. “Let’s leave Kenzie in the past. I think I’m going to like being Mac. And no, I didn’t give him my number. I gave him Logan’s.”
Her eyes widen before she bursts into laughter so loud a few heads turn. “Goddamn, I love you, girl.”
Alison appears then, moving toward the bar with quick, confident strides. “Hey Mackenzie, how’s the first shift starting out?”
“Really good, actually. And you can call me Mac.”
Another guy approaches the bar, so I slip away from their conversation. He’s broad-shouldered, his presence filling the space in front of him. The patch on his cut readsCain, and I realize I’ve seen him before he was one of the men with Logan the other night.
“What can I get ya?” I ask, keeping my voice neutral.
His eyes study me like he’s sizing up a threat. “A beer and a promise you’re not gonna screw with my brother.”
