The kid was right, this place is trashy.
I'm pretty sure there was straw and sawdust, which made this place smell like the back of a horse's ass, to soak in blood, urine and ale. Why am I always in the shittiest bars?
Fuck my life.
I looked over my options. There were games being played in a couple of corners.
Some real high rollers here. I saw chunks of gold being traded over cards. I think I even saw a necklace made of diamonds being used as collateral for the game.
I didn't want to risk my head if I lost the game. I knew how to cheat pretty well, but these were professional players. They could see my card tricks and my eyes counting cards a mile away.
I could also lounge back at the bar with the rest of the women. Clearly paid by the place to service the men, there were two or three men joining them, but most of them were women. They were eyefucking me pretty damn hard, so I was resigned to join them.
I was casing out the place for a couple of days, but nobody showed, so I decided to join the staff after the barman had a little accident.
And so graciously offered myself to replace him. I've been showing up here every night looking for a man with a windcoat and a mask that covered his entire body and a mask entirely white that covered his entire face.
By the third night that I have tried to stop an altercation between a girl and a dude that got way too handsy behind a red curtain and tried to bite off the girl's nipple.
I have learned one important rule in this bar: just because there is a sign on the wall that says, "hands off." Does not mean they listen.
I'm sick of entitled assholes and the way they feel they can take whatever the hell they want. I wanted so badly to tell these girls to run, to go somewhere, anywhere, but just like I was stuck in my hell. They were stuck in theirs.
I was glaring at some dude trying to feel up Winnie, the brunette with the wide lips. I felt the hand on me before I stepped out of the bar to do something. "Don't," Sam warned.
Sam was a good guy. I got to know him pretty well after the couple days I worked here. After he was sold by his mom to fishermen, he became a fish cutter for the merchants. It was not as lucrative as it used to be, so the fisherman sold him to the owner of this place.
He got passed around by every person he knew, so I knew his trust was precious, and I especially understood how much it took out of him to give it to me, but right now it was not the time. I growled under my breath, "No touching is part of the rules." I pointed towards the sign stating as much.
He knew I didn't talk about the rules, and I didn't give a fuck about the bar. He gave a slight nod to Winnie, and she looked over to me with what I could have sworn was concern before she gave me a weak smile and caressed the arm of the man who was trying to position her on his lap and smoothly moved away from him.
Sam moved into the bar to pour himself a heavy drink of bourbon and offered me one too. I swatted it away. I needed to stay clear-headed.
He gave me a confused glance.
I tried to steady my breathing, still pissed off. "I hate that fucking look they get when they scoff at being touched like that."
"They're used to it," but I barely heard his voice over the clattering loud one in my head.
I said even weaker, "I used to get that look."