Three days had passed since Adam's trial run, and the revelation that had emerged was this: he was good at the work. Not naturally talented in the way some people move through the world with effortless competence, but good in the way that comes from paying attention, from watching how things work and adapting himself to fit the rhythm of the place. He had learned the regulars' drinks, the pace of service during the dinner rush, the art of making small talk that felt personal without ever becoming actual intimacy.
The tips surprised him most. Folded bills pressed into his palm with nods of appreciation, despite Vincent's explicit instruction that bartenders were not meant to take money from customers. Adam pocketed them anyway, telling himself that the rule was more guideline than commandment, that survival required certain moral flexibilities.
Now it was Saturday night, and the sun had set hours ago, leaving The Lux to glow against the darkness like something designed to keep the night at bay. The club was filling slowly, bodies arriving in pairs and groups, their movements suggesting the kind of anticipation that came with the promise of erasure through sound and motion and alcohol. Music pulsed through the space, not yet at full volume but building, testing the limits of what the human body could absorb.
Adam moved behind the bar with the focused efficiency of someone who had discovered they belonged somewhere. He poured drinks, made change, remembered names. One of the regulars, a man named Marcus who came in four nights a week, had already claimed his usual stool at the far end.
"Whiskey neat," Adam said, setting the glass down before Marcus could order.
"You're learning." Marcus was in his mid-forties, with the kind of face that suggested accumulated disappointments. "That's dangerous in this business."
"How so?"
"You start caring about people, they start expecting you to care." Marcus took a long drink. "Better to stay strangers."
From his office above the main floor, Vincent watched through the one-way glass that allowed him to observe without being observed. He had to admit, though only to himself, that he was impressed with Adam. The kid had adapted quickly, showed initiative without overstepping, kept his head down in a way that suggested either wisdom or the kind of damage that taught people to make themselves small.
What bothered Vincent was the absence. No work history, no digital footprint, no record of existence before he walked through the door looking for a job. In Vincent's experience, people who erased themselves usually had good reasons, and good reasons in this business often meant bad news. He would need to test Adam further, push against the edges of his story to see what broke loose.
Adam was in the middle of mixing a vodka tonic when Marcus leaned forward, his voice taking on the conspiratorial tone of someone about to share something he believed was profound.
"You married, kid?"
"No."
"Good. Keep it that way." Marcus gestured with his glass, nearly spilling it. "I go home, she's always there. Always waiting. Always with that look, you know? Like I'm the problem. Like everything wrong with her life is because of me."
Adam forced himself to smile, the expression requiring physical effort. "That sounds difficult."
"She doesn't understand pressure. What it takes to provide. Sometimes you gotta remind them who's in charge, you know? Otherwise they get ideas. Start thinking they can talk to you however they want."
The smile stayed fixed on Adam's face even as something cold moved through his chest. He knew this type. Had known this type intimately. His mother's boyfriends had used the same language, the same justifications, the same casual admissions wrapped in complaints about disrespect. He could still hear the sounds from the next room, the apologies that came after, the promises that things would change.
"Another?" Adam asked, his voice level.
"Yeah. Make it a double."
The club was half full now, bodies filling the dance floor, the music rising to meet them. Saturday night transforming into something electric and temporary, a space where the week's accumulations could be temporarily forgotten. The sun had set completely, leaving only artificial light to define the boundaries of the room.
The door opened and a tall man stepped through, lean and dressed entirely in black. He paused just inside the entrance, scanning the space with the kind of attention that suggested professional assessment rather than casual interest. The bouncer, a massive presence named Dante, leaned in to listen as the man whispered something Adam could not hear.
Adam had seen him before. The man came in occasionally, always alone or with one or two others, always carrying himself with the kind of stillness that made people uncomfortable without being able to articulate why. He never drank, never stayed long, just appeared and disappeared like he was checking on something.
While the man in black was still speaking to Dante, another figure entered behind him. Adam's attention shifted before he could stop himself.
She wore a tracksuit and trainers, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she looked like she had just finished eating something, her fingers moving to wipe at the corner of her mouth. The woman he had seen coming and going from The Lux over the past few days, always looking slightly out of place, always dressed like she had wandered in from somewhere else entirely. She stood in the doorway looking around the club with an expression of naive curiosity, scanning the space as if taking inventory, as if she owned the place and was checking to make sure everything was where it should be.
The contrast between her casual appearance and the careful formality of everyone else in the space struck Adam as almost funny. She looked like someone who had wandered in from the gym, completely unaware or unconcerned that she was underdressed for the venue. He found himself watching her, tracking her movements even as he tried to focus on the customers in front of him.
The man in black leaned close to her and whispered something. She nodded, her expression changing slightly, and Adam wondered what connection existed between this woman in workout clothes and the man who carried himself like violence in a well-tailored suit. He shrugged internally and returned his attention to the drinks he was preparing.
When he looked up again, she had disappeared. He scanned the crowd reflexively, searching for her before he realized what he was doing and caught himself. Stupid. She was just another person passing through. He needed to focus on the work.
But then the scent hit him. Rich and expensive, completely at odds with the casual clothes but unmistakable in its quality. Perfume that announced presence before the person wearing it could be seen. Adam found himself looking through the crowd, searching for the source, his hands moving automatically to mix drinks while his attention wandered.
"What are you looking for?"
The voice came from directly in front of him. Adam looked down and found the woman standing at the bar, her elbows resting on the polished wood, her expression patient and amused.
He opened his mouth but nothing came out. The words that had been forming dissolved before they could take shape, leaving him standing there like an idiot, staring.
She waited, giving him time to recover. When he did not, she smiled.
"What are you looking for?" she asked again, her tone gentle, as if genuinely interested in the answer.
"You," Adam said, before his brain could intervene and prevent the honesty.
She laughed, a genuine sound that seemed to catch her by surprise. "I actually didn't expect you to be that honest." She leaned forward slightly. "I mean I get why you'd be looking for me tho, because I always catch you looking at me when I'm around."
Adam felt his face warming. "I—"
"And you never say anything, I wonder why?" she interrupted, her expression curious rather than accusatory. "Because you always look like you want to say something."
"What can I say to someone as pretty as you," Adam said, the words coming out before he could stop them.
She started laughing again, harder this time, and Adam found himself laughing with her, awkward and uncertain but unable to help himself. She kept laughing, her whole body engaged in it, and finally she managed to speak through the laughter.
"You're so funny," she said, wiping at her eyes.
They talked then, words flowing easier than Adam expected, as they laugh.
Adam while laughing leans closer over the counter. "You're distracting me, you know. you should come back later." He said it with a grin, his tone carrying more charm than dismissal.
Charmy laughing softly, tilting her head "Oh, I see what you're doing. And I have to admit, I kind of appreciate the effort."
Adam: leaning back, still smiling "Effort? I call it honesty."
She answers playfully sarcastic "Honesty wrapped in flirtation. You're not fooling me."
Her phone rang. She glanced at the screen but did not answer, simply silenced it and looked back at Adam.
"Ouu looks like queue," she said, and something in her tone suggested actual regret. "But I'll see you around playboy."
She walked away before he could respond, disappearing back into the crowd with the same ease she had emerged from it. Adam watched her go, aware that he was smiling like an idiot and unable to care.
"Whatever the fuck you're thinking about, do that opposite kid."
Marcus's voice cut through the moment like a blade. Adam turned to find the older man watching him with the bleary wisdom of someone deep into their third double whiskey.
"What?"
"That look on your face. That's how it starts. Next thing you know, you're trapped. She's telling you what to do, how to live. Believe me, you're better off alone than sleeping next to one nagging bitch every night."
Adam forced a chuckle, the sound hollow and performative, and returned to his work. He poured drinks, made change, engaged in the necessary theater of service. But his mind kept returning to the conversation, to the way she had laughed, to the smell of her perfume lingering in the air like evidence of something he could not quite name.
The night continued around him, music and bodies and the endless cycle of orders and tips and small talk with strangers. But something had shifted, some internal calculus had been altered, and Adam moved through the rest of his shift aware that he was waiting for something without knowing exactly what it was.