Chapter 5 - Zakael, who?

A smirk stretched my lips as I stared at the screen of my TV. I was sitting on the couch comfortably with my feet placed on the center table; a bowl of fries lay flat on my stomach. I was hired yesterday, and now I am already a bartender at Clementine. Who thought it would be that easy to get into Clementine?

“Shit,” I mumbled a curse underneath my breath when I glanced over at the clock just above my TV. I have to get ready. It's already five-thirty in the afternoon, and Clementine will get busy at six, which is my working hour up until midnight.

I got up and entered the bathroom with a towel on my shoulder. I took a quick bath and wore a black halter crop top and a leather jacket, paired with my usual denim jeans. I combed my short hair with my fingers and wore strapped sandals. It was a casual outfit that Ciara probably wouldn’t wear to a club. Well, I will show up as the bartender anyway, not some customer. It's not like I’m going there to party, so I kept it casual and simple.

After getting ready, I grabbed my bag and my car keys and hurriedly went down the stairs of my apartment. It doesn’t make sense, alright. Why would a billionaire like me live in a poor neighborhood and sleep in a small apartment? I can buy a whole condominium or a mansion much bigger than my current apartment for Pete’s sake!

Well, it isn’t all about luxury and money for Azalia Davis. I care about my family and friends more than anything; hence, I have to sacrifice living in secret. For the sake of my plan, I had to lay a low profile and hide from the enemy’s radar.

I decided to use my car instead of hailing a taxi. It was a sports car that I won over Miguela because of a bet. Miguela is a real deal troublemaker and so am I. The two of us would make bets on every random and ridiculous thing. However, when it comes to getting missions done, both Miguela and I are equal. We’re known as the notorious pair of Exodus Agency; we are deadly and merciless. That is why the agency wouldn’t put us together on a mission. Trouble would always find ways to follow us, and next thing you’ll know, there’s bloodshed and endless chaos. Just like that mission in Brazil; it was a huge scene that someone reported it, and the agency had to talk to the government to have the two of us suspended instead of deposing us.

I reached Clementine, parked my car, and got out. The name of the club glowed in neon red. It wasn’t so dark outside, and there were few cars and motorbikes in the parking lot.

A group of guys whistled as I got out of the car. They were bikers, and a few of them had tobacco between their lips. They were hanging out by the entrance of the club.

“Damn, lady. Nice car you got there,” a brunette dude checked my car out with an impressed grin on his dry lips.

I muttered a 'thanks' before walking inside the club nonchalantly. The corner of my lips rose upon being welcomed by smoke and the booming speakers. The disco lights were blinding, but people liked it, and so was the deafening music. I was hardly a party goer; I’m more like the type of friend to sit in one corner and finish all the drinks while I watch my friends getting wasted on the dance floor.

“Hey, Az!” a voice yelled through the loud music. It was Rico Astel in the distance waving in my direction. He wasn’t alone. There was also a couple sucking each other's faces. It was disgusting, sure, but I was used to seeing such horny animals at every club I’ve worked at. It was difficult to recognize their faces because of the dim lights in the area.

I smiled awkwardly, “Hey,” and sat for a moment on the couch next to Rico.

“Did you get the job?” Rico offered me a shot of something, which I gladly accepted.

I gulped the drink before replying with a nod. I let out a small smile before leaning back on the couch, crossing my legs.

"Good, because I'll kill that bastard if he did not hire you,"

I laughed a little and shifted my gaze to the couple across our seats. Rico also looked at them. The two huddled together, but the man stopped when he saw the two of us staring. The woman who was sitting on the man’s lap frowned when the man pushed her to the side to leave his lap. I smiled, secretly. Serves you right, girl.

The man wiped his lips using his thumb and smiled at me. He was wearing a white dress shirt that was now wrinkled, and a few buttons were opened revealing his chiseled chest. His lips were red from the smooching. His hair was all messed up, but he still looked hella fine. He looked flirtatious too. Maybe even worse than Rico here.

His dark eyes bore towards me,

“Hi there, miss. My name is Zero. May I know yours?” He extended his hand, and now I just noticed that he had tattoos on his fingers up to his arms. The man knows he’s sexy, and that’s dangerous.

But before I could speak, Rico opened his mouth and said something I never thought I would be forever grateful for. It’s a good thing Rico is quick-witted on things. This man can seriously be one of my friends; not that I needed more.

“She's my friend, dude. Don't flirt with her. She doesn’t like flirts.” He slapped Zero's hand away, and the latter could only wince and frown. I bit my lip, trying to suppress a laugh.

“Stop that! I'm just trying to make friends,” Zero huffed, rubbing the back of his hand, which Rico slapped.

Rico let out a scoff, “You can't, seriously. All the women you wanted to befriend ended up on your bed. Remember?”

“Hey,” Wendy, one of the waitresses, approached our table. Her red hair fell flatly down her shoulder. The redhead clearly didn’t like me by the way she looked at me from head to toe; her gaze was sharp and judgy. I raised a brow at her, gesturing for her to say what she needed to say.

“Kelly wants you behind the counter now. You're twenty minutes late," Wendy glared, her nostrils flaring. Alright, this girl needs to chill.

I looked at her blankly, “Right. Tell her I’m coming,”

Wendy looked even more irritated at how calm I was, and she didn’t like how I looked at her just now; it was cold and deadly. Fear crept inside her system, but it was later hidden by vexation.

I turned towards Rico, “Kelly’s calling me already,”

“Oh, okay then. We’ll be right here,”

I nodded before I stood up. I headed to the counter, and shortly after, I started serving drinks for the customers over the counter. It was something I love doing; pouring and mixing drinks of every color and taste. In college, I worked only one job, and that was serving drinks to people who are either drunk or sober who want to get wasted. It was Marissa, the bartender at the bar I worked at, who taught me a lot about bartending. I used to watch her mix drinks and all. It fascinated me for some reason, and that’s when I started learning how to do it.

Hours passed, and I had been standing at the counter for over five hours straight now. I sat on my stool and looked around the club. Clementine was almost crowded; it was crazy how the number of people dancing at the center kept increasing; the people were literally squeezing each other. Hell, it's almost midnight, and the party has just begun.

“Where's Rion?”

I held back a gasp when I heard a baritone voice behind me. I turned towards Elliot, who was simply staring at those people entering his club. Seriously, this man is very different from all the club owners I have met. Elliot mostly sleeps during the day, and he roams the club at night like a freaking ghost. I just found out from Manager Kelly that he lives on the top floor of this building.

I sighed before leaning over to the counter, my face resting on my palms. My gaze followed Elliot’s, and the two of us glanced at the people entering the club like some bored creeps.

“Rion left to take a piss,” I replied. Rion is also a bartender. He works after my shift, which is usually past midnight.

Elliot nodded, “Do you know Zakael?”

I frowned, “Zakael, who?”

“He was looking at you for a while now,” I looked at the table where Elliot was looking, and I saw a pair of annoying brown eyes looking back at me.

Holy shit.

It's him.