The Devil Has Feelings Too

Azzurra

The baby's wail pulled my attention like a fishhook. It was constant, sharp, and so goddessdamned insistent.

I glanced up from the register, eyeing the little girl as she squirmed in her mother's arms. She was red-faced, her tiny fists flailing in frustration while the mother, barely sparing her a glance, bounced her absentmindedly.

I wondered how it felt to have someone depend on you like that, and I didn't envy it.

The clock on the wall behind them caught my eye, it was 9:58 p.m. Relief coursed through me.

Almost there. Just two more minutes, and I'd be free from this badly lit hellhole for the night.

I handed the woman her bags with a tight smile, her child's cries still ringing in my ears. As she shuffled away, I slipped off my name badge and tossed it onto the counter. My shift was over. Finally.

I made my way to the back room, the hum of the blinking lights overhead grating against my nerves. The locker door creaked as I opened it, grabbing my scuffed leather bag. Slinging it over my shoulder, I straightened up and exhaled. It was go time.

Stepping outside, the cool night air wrapped around me, a stark contrast to the stale warmth of the store. My worn sneakers squeaked against the pavement as I scanned the street for a taxi. At 5'2", it wasn't exactly easy flagging one down, but I had places to be.

More importantly, I had people depending on me.

My two little sisters didn't know or maybe didn't want to know how I made ends meet. They just knew there was food on the table when they got home from school.

That was all that mattered

Tonight, I needed a score.

Not just for me, but for them. Gas, electricity, water, everything was overdue. I didn't have the luxury of caring where the money came from, only that it came.

And on time.

A taxi finally pulled up. I slid into the backseat, giving the driver the address of a nearby mall.

Inside the mall, I made a beeline for the clothing store, scanning the racks until I found something that would do the trick. And tonight, it happened to be a burgundy dress that hugged every curve just right.

It screamed expensive, even though I'd only be borrowing it for a few hours. The price tag stayed on, of course. I wasn't keeping it. Eighty dollars gone, and my purse was officially empty. But it didn't matter. This was an investment. I had one shot to make tonight count, and I wasn't going to blow it.

In the dressing room, I slipped on the dress and swapped my sneakers for the only pair of decent heels I owned. I got into another cab, resting back on the chair and twiddling my fingers as I prayed to the goddess for the night to go as planned.

By the time we reached the lounge, I looked like a million bucks or at least someone worth spending that kind of money on.

The line outside the club stretched down the block, but I didn't stop. I strode straight to the bouncer, a mountain of a man whose grim face broke into a grin the moment he saw me.

"Azzura," he greeted, his deep voice rumbling.

"Hey there, big guy," I said, tapping his chest lightly. "How's the night treating you?"

"Better now," he replied, stepping aside and pulling the velvet rope back for me. I was a regular, after all.

I slipped inside, the heavy bass of the music vibrating through my chest as the warm, dim lighting painted the room in golds and reds. The air was thick with expensive cologne and men full of desperation, just the way I liked it.

Walking in, I kept my chin high, my smile inviting.

My eyes scanned the crowd, cataloging details quickly: suits, shoes, watches. Some men wore leather jackets that had seen better days and easy passes. Others had crisp suits paired with scuffed sneakers. Amateurs.

Then, like a beacon, I saw it, a glint of silver on a man's wrist. A Rolex. Not just any Rolex, but one that would fetch a good price at the pawnshop, even if they tried to lowball me. I sauntered over to the bar, sliding onto the stool next to him. His suit was tailored, his shoes polished. He noticed me almost immediately, his grin wide and inviting.

"How are you doing?" he asked, his voice warm but tinged with the faintest hint of arrogance.

I opened my mouth to reply, but the smell of his breath hit me first, it reaks of cigarettes. Not the expensive kind either. Not cigars.

But cheap, stale cigarettes.

I recoiled, turning away slightly. It didn't matter how much money he had. Some things weren't worth the trouble.

Before I could decide on my next move, another man slid into the seat beside me, his presence quiet. He didn't glance at me, didn't even acknowledge me at first.

Instead, he placed an order in a low, smooth voice. "Whiskey. Neat."

The bartender nodded, glancing at me expectantly.

"I'll have what he's having," I said, lifting my chin.

The bartender hesitated, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You sure about that? Might be a little strong for you."

I narrowed my eyes, ready to snap back, but the man beside me beat me to it.

"Make that two," he said, his voice firm.

The bartender's smirk vanished, his eyes dropping to the counter as he hurried to fill the order.

I turned to look at the man, studying him for the first time. His suit was dark, perfectly tailored.

I eyed him carefully.

"I didn't need you to order my drink for me." I said to him, my eyes still scanning him.