Chapter 15

Drasa’s POV 

I flagged down a taxi heading to the bar. After checking the timetable, I realized there were no lectures today, again.

The drive was silent, with only my thoughts running wild.

I didn’t know what Amelia was up to. She behaved wildly—too wildly for me to grasp her true nature.

She seemed real sometimes, then completely different at other times.

The taxi pulled up in front of the bar, and I rushed in. The manager spotted me the moment I stepped inside. His eyes raked over me from head to toe, as if surprised I’d actually shown up.

“Drasa?” he called out, clearly stunned.

“Yes,” I replied, my eyes on the floor.

“What are you doing here?”

“To work.”

“In which bar?”

“This one,” I said flatly.

“You must be joking.”

“I’ve never joked.”

“Then maybe you should start, because you definitely look like an actress.”

“I don’t plan to be one,” I answered, keeping my tone tight. I knew where this conversation was going, but I didn’t want to be too direct.

“Leave,” he said sharply.

“No, I’m not,” I said, lifting my head to meet his angry expression before quickly looking down again.

“No?” he repeated in disbelief. “Are you trying to challenge me now?”

“No, I’m just saying I’m not ready to leave. I came here to work.”

“You’re here,” Amelia’s voice cut in. I looked up. She was wearing a white dress under a black apron, carrying a tray, her hair neatly tied back.

“Yes,” I answered softly.

“Drasa, leave. Your sack letter will be forwarded to your G***l,” the manager snapped.

“Who the hell emails a sack letter?” Amelia said casually as she walked over to the shelf.

The manager looked stunned but didn’t respond to her.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, knowing full well that if I lost this job, I might not find another one that paid daily. Even if I did, it wouldn’t be this easy.

“After running off yesterday without doing half your job, you think apologizing fixes it?” he snapped.

“She didn’t work, but you didn’t do it either. Besides, she wasn’t paid. It’s a daily job—she has the right not to show up,” Amelia said, not even looking at us as she arranged bottles.

The manager stared at her and walked away.

I turned to Amelia. She seemed focused on what she was doing.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

“There’s no need to thank me. I only said it because I don’t want to work for two people again today,” she replied flatly.

“Are you here to start work or just stand and watch?” she added, handing me an apron as I dropped my school bag beside the shelf.

“The drinks go to the VIP,” she said, pointing at the tray.

I nodded, picked it up, and headed for the VIP room.

Only two men were inside, deep in conversation. I walked up to the middle table, set the drinks down, and bowed lightly.

I was about to walk away when one of them spoke.

“Hey, white-haired girl,” he called. I turned to look at him. He was smiling.

I bit my lower lip. I hated the smug look on his face.

“You look pretty,” he said, then frowned and turned back to his friend.

I sighed and left the room.

“You’re back,” Amelia said.

“They’re wild,” I replied, and she nodded.

“VIPs always are,” she said, eyes glued to the iPad in her hand.

“How did you get that?” I asked, eyeing the pink iPad. It looked brand new.

“Beautiful, right? I just got it yesterday…” Her voice trailed off. “With your money.” She smiled.

“My money?” I repeated, frowning.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the money Elara paid me to take that picture.”

She said it so casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Don’t you feel ashamed saying that?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Saying what? That I bought something with the money I earned?”

“Money you earned by taking a picture of me?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I’ve been wanting that iPad for a while, but it’s too expensive with the pay here. So, I just had to do one or two things,” she said with a shrug.

“But why?”

“Why what?”

“The picture. My face wasn’t even showing. And my hair is colored.”

“That’s what she paid for. I mean, Elara.” She smirked.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Since I grew old enough to want things for myself. And I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

“Chit-chat already, and the day’s just starting?” the manager’s voice rang out across the bar.

“Not really, just talking about education,” Amelia paused dramatically. “Oh, sorry. I forgot you can’t relate.”