Shadows In Durango

Chapter 12

*****Sofia's POV*****

As the minutes ticked by, the anticipation of my first shift grew. The VIP lounge was pristine and ready, the glasses gleaming under the soft ambient light. The bar was stocked, and I felt a wave of confidence wash over me as I arranged everything in its place.

I could do this....

The first customers trickled in a group of four older men, their faces weathered and their voices gruff. They sauntered into the VIP lounge with an air of casual authority, their laughter echoing off the walls. They glanced at me briefly as they approached the bar, their eyes sharp but not unfriendly.

"Hey there, sweetheart, you're new!" one of them said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "We'll have four whiskeys, neat." He concludes, as I smile and make a move.

I nodded, my hands moving with practiced ease as I prepared their drinks - praying for things to go smoothly.

The familiar motions of pouring the amber liquid, the clink of ice in the glass- it all felt natural. The men watched me in silence, their conversation picking up as they returned to their seats, drinks in hand. I breathed a sigh of relief. If all my customers were like this, the night might not be so bad after all.

The hours slipped by in a steady rhythm as I glanced down stairs to see the dancers swaying their hips on the poles. It seemed that they didn't strip, only danced, which for some reason made the fact that I was working here feel less illegal... The VIP lounge saw a handful of other patrons, each group coming and going with little fanfare. I managed to keep up with the orders, my confidence growing with each successful transaction. I even found a moment to practice a few cocktail recipes, adding my own flair to the drinks.

The lull in activity gave me a chance to catch my breath and prepare for the next wave - as my little tip jar started to collect some notes for me to take home which made me smile.

I was wiping down the bar when I heard the sound of laughter- loud and boisterous-carrying up the stairs. My heart skipped a beat as the unmistakable thumping of heavy footsteps approached the VIP lounge. This was the loudest group so far... which caused goosebumps to rise in anticipation.

Then they appeared.

Daryl, Vincent, and a large group of guys, most of whom I hadn't seen at school before, filling the entrance to the balcony. They were a rowdy bunch, their presence commanding the room as they piled into the VIP area. Daryl's eyes sparkled with mischief, while Vincent exuded his usual air of confident arrogance. The sight of them almost knocked the air from my lungs as I ducked down behind the bar to catch my breath.

still oblivious to my presence as I pretended to be wiping an imaginary spillage from the floor. This was not how I envisioned my

in here? In VIP too at

by the edge of the balcony, as they dispersed to their seats, and I took a moment

see me and thought

being silly, this was my job! I have to serve them and get over my

Vincent since Daryl had told me not to buy and deliver his lunch, so I

and boisterous conversation. Despite my initial panic, I found myself slipping back into the rhythm of my job,

rhythm of the job. However, I couldn't shake the anxiety that gnawed at the edges of my mind knowing Daryl, Vincent, and their rowdy entourage were just a few steps

any attention to the bartender... perhaps Vincent and Daryl would even stay away from the bar, having

luck was not on my

feel a bit more confident and secure, I glanced up and my eyes instantly locked with Vincent's - his daggers piercing holes

abruptly, the force of his movement causing his chair to scrape loudly against the floor. My heart pounded

voice was low and menacing, dripping with displeasure as I was shocked that he even cared to remember my name

flush with a mix of fear and embarrassment. "Vincent?" I

His voice was louder now, drawing the

who had been deep in conversation with another guy,

to make his way over, his bewilderment evident as I pleaded

to shrink away and disappear. "Why are you working in my bar?" he demanded to know, his voice cold and unforgiving. "Your bar?" I echoed back in disbelief,

hear

anger. "I own this place. So tell me, what are you doing in it?" He grits

me," I managed to explain, my voice shaking. "He said

"This is no place for a seventeen-year-old

blurted out, my voice breaking. "I... I live with my brother, and we need the money." It was a lie, but I hoped it would be enough to make him reconsider and not question further why I lived alone... Vincent's eyes narrowed, his posture rigid as he considered my words. For a moment,