Page 7 of Logan
You said nothing felt as good as when you gaze into my eyes
Now you don't care I'm alive
How did we let the fire die?
- ‘When It Was Me’ Paula Deanda
Walking into the club, I didn’t realize until that moment that it was a strip club. The music, the lighting, the way the air was thick with perfume and something faintly smoky—it all hit at once. I’m not a prude by any means, but I also don’t know how much I’d like to work in a place like this. My stomach tightens, not in judgment exactly, but in the uncertainty of whether I can picture myself here every night.
The inside is… nice. Nicer than I expected, with that deliberate kind of atmosphere that makes you want to sit down, order a drink, and forget about whatever you walked in with. I guess that’s the point. The walls are covered with acoustic padding from the ceiling to halfway down, softening the sound and keeping the music from becoming a dull roar. A wide piece of dark trim separates the padded section from the deep red paint below it, a color that feels both intimate and bold. Blackleather couches line the perimeter of the room, the cushions worn smooth from years of use. Freestanding leather chairs circle the stage, each paired with a small stainless-steel table gleaming under the lights.
The large stage dominates the center of the room, its reflective floor catching every flicker of light. A silver pole rises from the middle, catching the glow of the colored strips of LED lights that run along the stage edge. The lights give the platform a halo, making it impossible to ignore.
And then…my heart stops.
Because he’s here.
Logan.
Sitting at the bar like he belongs in every inch of this place. My body goes still, frozen mid-step, and it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. The pounding music fades into a muted thrum in my ears. I’m staring without meaning to, without wanting to, and the sight of him sends something sharp and hot through my chest.
I barely notice the man who walks up to me until he’s close enough to block my view. “You look lost. Can I help you with something?” His voice is calm but carries an edge of authority. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, the fabric stretched across broad shoulders and muscular arms crossed over his chest.
“Um, yes, I…” I clear my throat, trying to find my voice and some shred of composure. “I am here for an interview for the bartending position with Allison.”
“Got it. I’ll let her know you’re here. Name is Hank, by the way.” He gives me a wink before walking off toward the back.
I catch movement from the corner of my eye Logan stopping Hank, leaning in to say something to him before heading in the same direction.
Great. Perfect. I might as well not even bother wondering if this job will work out for me. I can already see the outcome. Logan disappearing into some office and making sure my name is scratched off whatever list Allison might have. Like he hasn’t done enough damage already.
“Kenzie?”
My head snaps toward the sound of my nickname, a word I haven’t heard in years, not from anyone who meant it. Confusion hits hard until I see her, Shaina, waving at me from behind the bar, her smile bright and easy, like no time has passed at all.
“What are you doing here, girl?”
Relief rushes through me at the sight of a friendly face. I walk over, my steps slower now but pulled by the comfort of familiarity. “I actually came to interview for the bartending job.” I slide onto one of the stools, perching at the edge while I wait for Allison.
“That explains it.” Shaina starts laughing, and I blink at her, completely missing what’s funny. “Logan just flew out of here like a bat out of hell,” she grins. “I don’t blame him either, girl you look amazing.”
I smile despite myself. I always liked Shaina. Back then, she and I were close, really close. But after everything with Logan, it was too hard. I’d pick up the phone wanting to call her, only to hang up for fear he might answer. She tried visiting me once, but the weight of what was left unsaid between us was too heavy. Losing her friendship was another loss I hadn’t beenprepared for, one more thing Logan took without even knowing it.
A woman with light brown hair and a wide smile steps out of the office and heads toward the bar. I stand up, straightening my shoulders and hoping I look more confident than I feel.
“Hi, are you Mackenzie?”
I nod. “Yes, thanks for seeing me.”
She shakes my hand firmly. “No problem. Let’s head into my office where we can talk.”
“Hey, Ali,” Shaina calls, drawing her attention. “She’s a good one. I’ve known her for a while.”
“Thanks, Shay.” Allison starts walking, and I follow her down a hallway lined with framed photographs some of the club, some of performers I don’t recognize. We stop at an oak door withManageretched on a small plaque.
“Come on in and have a seat.”
I step inside, surprised by the softness of the room compared to the main floor’s deliberate seduction. A light blue loveseat sits in the corner, angled toward a glass coffee table that holds a vase of mixed flowers, their scent faint but sweet. Her desk is large and wooden, scattered with paper stacks and anchored by a sleek desktop computer. The two black leather chairs in front of it look a little too comfortable for a business setting, like they’re meant to disarm whoever’s sitting in them.
