Chapter 1

Deafening music, reeks of alcohol, crazy people grinding themselves against each other like there is no tomorrow. The bar has hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, all of them competing with the rock music that dominates the atmosphere. I sighed. I have no other choice but to do this in order to live and sustain my father’s medications. My life is about surviving and me, myself, doesn’t know what the word ‘fun’ is.

“Looks like someone is fed up,” I voice behind me said.

I turned around and saw Cris, my co-worker. He’s holding a bottle of liquor in his hand while the other was free. He’s the bartender and he pretty much enjoy what he does, unlike me.

“What can I say? A nickel would make a difference,” I sighed, again. “I am tired and disgusted of what I am doing for a living but I should still do it, right? As if I got a choice.”

My job is not the so likeable one. But at least I have it. Like I said, it’s about surviving. Fun? Happiness? Those doesn’t matter.

“Don’t you have an answer yet?” he asked, out of the blue.

My forehead furrowed as I look at him. Answer? What answer was he talking about? I tried to remember what he was trying to say. I frowned when I realized what it was.

“Cris, please. I told you, tempting but no thanks.”

“Why not?” he whined. “Do you want to be stuck being a waitress in a bar forever? Come on. My offer is big time.”

“I’d rather be stuck as a waitress than to marry you,” I snapped.

Cris is not so bad. He’s kind but cocky. He got wealth, the friends, family, pretty much everything. Any girl would like to date someone like him. But I’m not like any other girls. He’s charming but not my type. If I were to marry someone, at least it should be someone that I love and someone who loves me back. Wealth doesn’t matter. As long as we love each other, that’s enough.

“I’m not that bad you know,” he frowned. Probably offended of what I said.

I sighed.

“I’m sorry,” I paused. “It’s just that I want to marry someone that I love.”

“But you can learn to love me,” he pointed.

“But it doesn’t work that way,” I smiled weakly. “I’m really sorry.”

Silence overpowered between us. The music was still loud but the silence between us was deafening. I don’t want to hurt him. I even can’t imagine myself rejecting him tons of times. But look at us now, I kept on doing it for him to stop.

“I need to work,” I wave my hand in front of him as I turn my back.

I started to walk away not until he stopped me midway.

“Azrael,” he called my name.

I turn my head to him.

“Hmm?”

“Can’t you think about it?” he asked.

Desperation was on his eyes, pleading for me to marry him. How much more can he take from my rejections? I’m fed up with my work. Isn’t he fed up trying to get me?

“I’m sorry,” I replied before turning my head and continued walking.

I shook my head, trying to get Cris away from my head. The disappointment on his eyes before I turned away well, made me guilty. Especially because I was the reason why he was feeling like that.

I started delivering drinks to the customers and found myself getting busier and busier as time went by. The more I delivered orders, the more I got uncomfortable with the skirt that I am wearing. You see, it was a mini skirt. I want to oppose of not wearing it but I got no choice. It is our uniform so might as well suck it up.

You see as the night gets deeper, the customer gets older. Well of course, grandmas and grandpas aren’t here. What I meant was university students went home already while people ages from 20-40 started filling in the place. And that is when my least favorite time comes. And why is that? Because I always hear catcalling.

“Nice legs,” I heard one customer said but I didn’t gave him any attention.

I heard whistles and men calling me. I know that they were only trying to get under my pants but na uh. I’m not like that.

Let me just describe myself. I’m five feet and four inches tall, I got the ideal buns, my chest, well, not so big but not so disappointing either. Hour-glass body, probably because I work a lot, making it no space for fat. Kidding.

You see, I am likeable. But as a waitress, I don’t do tables. My job is to take orders, serve them and that’s all. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Excuse me,” a middle aged man raised his hand, trying to get my attention.

I smiled at him, like what I always do, before inching our distance,.

“Yes sir? May I take your order?” I asked as I hugged the tray in front of me.

Even the top showed my cleavage.

“How much are you?” he asked.

My brows met as I tried to understand his question. He probably thought that I am one of those girls that he can take home. Screw this outfit.

“I’m sorry sir but I don’t do tables. You see, I’m only a waitress,” I explained.

“But you’re wearing a slutty clothes that those girls were wearing,” he pointed to the girls who were at the stage sexy dancing. I flinched at the sight.

“This is our uniform, sir,” I replied, still not dropping the honorifics. Even though I already felt harassed. “We can’t complain about it. Even though I really want to take it off.”

“Why not take it off in front of us,” said the man with him.

Everyone on the table laughed, as if it was the funniest thing that they ever heard. There were five of them on the table, looking at me with lust on their eyes. They’re probably drunk already.

“I’m sorry sir,” I bowed. “If you’ll not order then I’ll have to get back to work.”

I was going to turn my back but one of the dudes held my wrist, stopping me.

“Hey!” I exclaimed. “Let me go!”

The moment I thought of this job, I knew that things like this would happen. But I still went with it. It is the only job that I got accepted.

“Playing hard to get, eh?” said the other.

“Please sir, let go,” I wiggled myself from his grasp but he was too strong. I can’t possible fight with him either.

“I can give you my money. How much do you want?” the man asked.

“I don’t need your money. Just let me go!”

They all laughed. Was it funny though? Was it funny watching at someone’s misfortune?

“Don’t tire her,” said the man who called me.

“Why not?” asked the other. The one who got my wrist.

“I can’t hookup with someone that is tired,” he then laughed.

I got shivers after he said that. That’s downright wrong! I can’t let them get me!

I roamed my eyes, trying to meet my eyes with someone to help me but there was no one. All the employees were busy. Loud music is still banging around the place so there is no way that anyone could hear me.

I almost lose hope. Not until I felt someone’s arm snaked around my waist, swiftly took me behind him. I didn’t know how he did it so fast and how that man let go of my wrist.

All I can see was his broad shoulders, broad enough to hide me from those maniacs. I smelled a hint of grass from this man in front of me. I looked up and as if on cue, he took a quick glance at me. But for me, it was in slow motion.

Those eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked the maniacs.

His voice was deep and his eyes were attractive. I found myself staring at his back, completely in trance.