I worked part-time during college to make ends meet. I found a job, but rumors spread around campus that I was working in an unsavory industry. Years later, as if fulfilling their assumptions, I became a VIP room manager at a nightclub. At a class reunion, my former classmates mocked me with cold remarks. But the infamous lawyer Mr. Yates, known for his stern demeanor, unexpectedly knelt before me in his crisp suit— 0 “Ava, please, save me a room tonight…” I started working at Horizon, the city’s most popular nightclub, after graduating college. My job was VIP room sales, mainly booking private rooms and selling drinks. I was approaching 30 and had worked my way up to sales manager. Our team, mostly young women, consistently performed well. Lisa’s team also did well, though they occasionally had off nights. On those evenings, she would start bombarding me with messages on Snapchat as early as 5 PM, frantically saying: “Ava, how many rooms has your team booked? We only have three so far. If we’re really struggling by tonight, can you lend us some of your bookings? Next time there are difficult clients, I’ll have Angela and the girls help out with drinks.” Lisa was nine years my senior, a veritable cougar with permed reddish-brown hair. We got along well, mainly because of her straightforward personality. And I was even more direct than her. Horizon was the largest and liveliest nightclub in the city. There wasn’t much scheming between the sales teams, since besides Lisa and me, the only other sales manager we regularly dealt with was a man. We called him Chris. Chris was also easy to talk to and treated us all like sisters. At 7 PM, Horizon opened for business. The girls arrived one by one through the back entrance, gathering in the dressing room. Some still had remnants of last night’s makeup, mascara smudged around their eyes. Others arrived bare-faced in tank tops, carefully applying skincare in front of the mirror. Those who weren’t skilled at makeup could pay $30 for the part-time makeup artists to do a pretty look. The makeup artists brought basic foundation, but the girls usually requested to use their own MAC or Armani products. Of course, some didn’t bother, like the new college student on my team. She was introduced by her classmate Tina to work part-time. The girls here all used stage names. Tina’s real name was Chloe, a sophomore in college. Her friend had already picked out a name before coming – Mandy. Mandy looked a bit plain, with small eyes and a hesitant demeanor. Initially I didn’t want to take her on, but Tina clung to my arm and pleaded: “Come on Ava, let her stay. Her dad has cancer and is in the hospital. They’ve used up all their savings and are in debt. They can’t even afford her living expenses. She really needs the money.” I sighed reluctantly, “Not everyone is cut out for this line of work. Looks are secondary – with makeup, no one looks too bad. But in other aspects, do you really think she can handle those clients?” I’ve always been good at reading people. This girl was too naive – unlike Tina, who was lively and socially savvy. Tina had been working part-time here for almost a year. She was clever and could hold her liquor well. I once asked her why a nice girl like her would work in a place like this. She blinked innocently and said matter-of-factly: “I don’t have enough money. My mom only gives me $100 a month. One set of skincare products alone costs $180. Plus all the cute bags and shoes – who doesn’t like shopping for designer brands at the mall?” I’ve seen all kinds of reasons girls work in nightclubs, each more outlandish than the last. In Lisa’s group, there was a girl called Hannah who came to work here because of her boyfriend. The guy was constantly unemployed, lying around at home playing video games all day. So she came to work at the nightclub to support them both. Girls like that were rare. It usually took hitting rock bottom before they’d wake up. More common were girls like Mandy, who came to work here because they desperately needed money. And they needed a lot of money. Like my best friend at Horizon, Angela. She was already working here when I first started. Originally it was because she fell victim to an online shopping scam and maxed out her credit cards. She managed to pay off her debts and left for a year. But when I became a sales manager in charge of a team, she came back. This time it was because she got caught up in an online romance scam. She was brainwashed and took out all kinds of loans. Now she owed over $100,000. Then there was Yolanda, a 26-year-old single mom. She divorced due to domestic violence and was raising two kids on her own. Everyone had their reasons for working in nightclubs, but not everyone was suited for it. But Tina kept insisting, even promising: “No one is born cut out for this industry. Don’t worry Ava, Mandy is very adaptable. I can help her. How about this – let her try for a few days with me guiding her. If you’re still not satisfied then, you can let her go.” Because of that, Mandy really did end up staying. She didn’t have great features, so she always carefully had her makeup done by the makeup artists. I have to say, with makeup she looked quite innocent and sweet, a bit like that Korean actress with small eyes, Jung Da-bin. I knew that agreeing to keep her was partly because of what Tina said – “No one is born cut out for this industry.” Every evening around 6-7 PM, the two large dressing rooms and changing rooms would be bustling with noise and activity. In the end, everyone would emerge dolled up and glamorous. When changing, if they couldn’t reach the clasps on their bras, they’d even call Chris over to help. After it all quieted down, I would usually light a cigarette in the dressing room, exhaling smoke as I stared at my solemn reflection in the mirror, feeling strange and distant. I once told Tina: “When I was in college, my monthly living expenses were only $50. You’re still young, so those designer skincare products and bags aren’t necessities. You’ll have chances to buy them in the future.” Tina dismissed this, simply telling me: “Times are different now, Ava.” Times may be different, but some truths remain the same. As the famous quote from Zweig’s “Marie Antoinette” goes – “All the gifts bestowed by fate have their price tag already marked.” Some people are born with everything, silver spoons in their mouths. Others are born with nothing, in abject poverty. We all enter this world differently. Life has no rehearsals or scripts. Once a path is walked, it cannot be retraced. That’s why we should cherish the good cards we’re dealt. And when dealt a bad hand, we must study it carefully and play to win big. It would be a shame to only play a bit part on the stage of your own life. As I stared into the mirror lost in thought, cigarette smoke swirling, I couldn’t help but wonder what my era was like. At 20, I seemed to be like Mandy – introverted and reserved, walking with my head down in silence. The difference was, I had no friends at school back then. And because of a boy’s impulsive confession, I became a public enemy, subjected to insults and abuse. Then I would naturally think of Zack, that little troublemaker who shone a light into my long, dark life. In my memories, he smiled at me backlit, forever young. Those thick, unruly eyebrows. The hint of mischief in his eyes. Even after all these years, the memory remained vivid and alive. Those recollections would make me irritably stub out my cigarette. I’d spend a few minutes composing myself, then walk out of the dressing room as if nothing had happened. I’d hold a quick meeting with my team in the main hall. Then everyone would get to work, welcoming clients amidst the lavish and bustling atmosphere of the nightclub. The same routine every night – singing karaoke, playing dice games, drinking, whispering in ears…VIP packages with expensive liquor on the table. As long as the clients’ dirty jokes and wandering hands didn’t go too far, the girls could flirtatiously fend them off. Nightclubs nowadays are different from before. I still remember 10 years ago when Frank partnered with someone to open a karaoke club. Back then it was truly chaotic, breeding grounds for criminal activity. The clubs had nude shows, erotic dances, almost becoming a seedy industry chain. There were other unsavory dealings too. Frank felt helpless at the time – he wanted to establish roots in the city, but there were people he had to rely on. Many things he didn’t want to do, he had no power to refuse. Fortunately, he’s made it big now and gone legitimate. In both legal and illegal circles of the city, mentioning his name now inspires a degree of fear. Frank owns many businesses – restaurants, clubs, tech companies…Perhaps knowing how hard it was to go clean, he’s completely distanced himself from any illegal activities. Take Horizon for example. Despite being a nightclub, it was even nominated as one of the “Top 10 Civilized Establishments” in the city’s year-end evaluations. I’ve long known that Frank is a ruthless man. Horizon operates until 2-3 AM. By closing time, everyone reeks of alcohol. Some of the more energetic girls will invite others out for late night snacks after work. I rarely join their after-work activities. When faced with enthusiastic invitations, I just smile and say: “You girls go ahead. I’m getting old and can’t keep up with you young ladies. I need to rest or I’ll get wrinkles.” I’ve always had trouble sleeping, so I usually go straight home. There are always lots of taxis waiting outside Horizon at that hour. Lately when leaving, I’ve made a habit of glancing towards the east end of the street. Sure enough, for a week now, that black Mercedes has been waiting there at the same time. The person inside seemed to notice me. A tall, straight figure got out of the car. From a distance, the man stood with his hand on the car door, gazing over steadily. I ignored him and got directly into a taxi, giving my address. After arriving at my apartment complex and paying the fare, I unsurprisingly saw that Mercedes had followed me here. For most people, this might seem scary. But not this man. His name was Ethan Yates, a lawyer. More specifically, he was a well-known lawyer in the city. Ethan came from a good family and graduated from law school at Kingsley University. His father was a judge and his mother worked for the prosecutor’s office. He was famous even in school. While getting his master’s degree, he worked with a law firm in Southport on a high-profile forensic evidence case, with the university’s recommendation. Two years ago, he co-founded Kingsley Law Firm with some college classmates. He specialized in criminal defense and handling complex legal matters. I knew a lot about him, not just because I also went to Kingsley, but because I had just dumped him a week ago. “Dumped” may not be the right word, since we were never really in a proper relationship to begin with. Two months ago, their law firm helped the CEO of Qishi Group win an economic dispute case. The CEO booked a room at Horizon and insisted on inviting the lawyers to celebrate. The room was booked through Angela, so the commission went to our team. The CEO generously ordered the Hennessy package, so I went to offer some toasts. That’s how I met Ethan. The large private room was packed, with the CEO and his group all seated. Amidst the clinking glasses and dazzling lights, the lively atmosphere was in full swing. I exchanged some pleasantries with the CEO, who then introduced me to Ethan. “Ava, I hear from Angela that you also graduated from Kingsley? Come, let me introduce you to Mr. Yates – a fellow alumna, and quite a beauty too.” The room was crowded and I hadn’t noticed him at first. But when our eyes met, the air seemed to freeze for a moment. There’s always a certain chemistry between people. Ethan was young and handsome, in a way befitting an elite lawyer’s proper image. Sleek, impeccable hair. A smooth forehead and high nose bridge. Thin lips pressed together. Handsome, faultless features. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, looking scholarly and refined, while also cleverly concealing the sharp glint in his deep-set eyes. One glance was enough for me to know something should happen between us. Rumor had it that Ethan never drank and had a cold personality. Whether for work or in private, he was said to rarely smile. That night, true to the rumors, he had been dragged there by another partner at the firm. He didn’t drink a drop of alcohol the whole time, and no women were seated next to him. It was clear he disliked such occasions. Though his face remained impassive, his occasionally furrowed brow betrayed his irritation. Fortunately, I came to his rescue. I sat down next to him, meeting his inquiring gaze. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Yates.” “You also graduated from Kingsley?” Ethan’s voice was cool and low. He turned slightly to look at me, light reflecting off his glasses and illuminating his dark pupils with a deep, mysterious glow. When a man takes initiative to ask questions about a woman, it means he doesn’t dislike her. I’ve always known I’m good-looking. After years in the nightlife industry, the smile on my face was polite and gentle. If I wanted, that gentleness could take on a flirtatious edge. I had graduated from Kingsley a year ahead of him, so I suppose I was his senior. Ethan must have been very puzzled as to why a Kingsley graduate would be working at a nightclub. I didn’t need to explain this to him. If he was interested in me, he’d find out everything with a bit of digging later. That night at closing time, I took the initiative to ask if he could give me a ride home. He sat in the car looking at me, raising an eyebrow. His gaze was deep and unreadable. In the end, he silently allowed me to open the passenger door. When we arrived at my apartment, as I was getting out, I asked with a smile: “Want to come up for coffee?” It was a clear invitation. We were both adults, no need to beat around the bush. I looked at him openly, my expression calm. As if it didn’t matter whether he refused or not. He pressed his lips together, eyeing me. Finally he said: “Do you live alone?” “Of course.” “…Do we need to stop by a convenience store first?” “No need, I have supplies at home.” I smiled coyly at him, deepening the curve of my lips: “Plenty.” Our eyes met. Ethan frowned. In that moment, he was hesitant and conflicted. I could guess what he was thinking – on one side, the shackles of morality. On the other, an attractive woman with good chemistry, nonchalantly propositioning him. And he happened to be single, at an age when passions run high. He was a lawyer, not a saint. So he took the bait. Mr. Yates was quite restrained at first. But once we got upstairs and he took off those glasses and loosened his shirt, he was every bit the wolf in sheep’s clothing. He was gone when I woke up the next day. By the time I got up it was already 11 AM. There was a stack of cash on the nightstand. Perfect. We both got what we wanted, no need for emotional baggage on either side. I sat in a chair on the balcony. As the midday sun blazed, I lit a cigarette, examining the tiny ember at the tip. Just before it burned out, I took a deep drag. The feeling of smoke filling my lungs was strangely satisfying. 0
A few days passed with no word from Ethan. But half a month later, I made an excuse to seek him out. It started with that girl Mandy getting her head smashed with a bottle. The man who hit her was called Harvey, a regular at Horizon. We usually called him Mr. He. That’s right, he was a rich second-generation heir. And he was infamous in the city for his arrogance. When I rushed over after hearing the news, I pushed open the door to see Mandy crouched on the ground clutching her head, blood seeping through her fingers. Tina and the others stood to the side, faces pale, not daring to make a sound. Seeing me enter, the young heir narrowed his eyes and sneered: “Ava, am I short on cash or stingy with tips? Why the hell are you sending me these prudes? Playing hard to get when I’m trying to drink with them. Who do they think they are, trying to act all chaste in a place like this?” I didn’t need to guess what happened. Keeping a smile on my face, I went over to help Mandy up. “I’m so sorry Mr. He, we’ve ruined your good time. Please don’t be angry, we can talk this out. Let me call someone to take the girl to the hospital first. That bottle was no joke.” Chris and the others who had rushed over took Mandy away. I gestured for Tina and the rest to leave too, leaving only myself and the floor manager Ryan to smooth things over. I’ve known Ryan for over a decade, back when Frank was just starting out in the city. He was about the same age as Frank, a gruff man in his late 30s. For him, this kind of scene was nothing new. Good-naturedly, Ryan chatted with Harvey for a bit, then said: “The girl was out of line, she definitely needs more training. But Mr. He, we’re living in a society of law and order now. Hitting people is still not right, no matter what.” Harvey was young and arrogant. He retorted dismissively: “I was just trying to scare her. Who knew she’d be dumb enough not to dodge. Fine, I hit her – I’ll pay the medical bills, that’s that.” Rich people are always so fearless. I smiled and said: “Mr. He, that blow was no joke. It’s a concussion at the very least. The bill won’t be less than $70-80,000.” “What? How much did you say?” Harvey looked at me like he’d heard a joke, laughing coldly. “You think you can just name a price? Who do you think you are?” “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’ll be paying not just medical bills, but emotional damages too. If the poor girl is traumatized for life, that shadow will follow her forever.” I smiled calmly as I watched his face grow increasingly dark. Then I added: “If Mr. He thinks the price is too high, how about I call Frank and let him discuss it with you?” I’ve said before, in this city, mentioning Frank’s name always inspires a degree of fear. Harvey stared at me, his expression flickering between anger and uncertainty. Finally he let out a laugh. “Fine, whatever price you name. I’ve got plenty of money. Next time if I accidentally hit you on the head, we’ll use the same rate to settle up.” The threat in his words was clear. I just smiled silently as I looked at him. Ryan frowned first. “Mr. He, you can’t say things like that.” Harvey laughed heartily. “It’s just a joke, why so serious? Ava’s no ordinary woman, how could I dare touch her? Would Frank let me off if I did?” He was right. He wouldn’t dare touch me. Everyone knew that Ava, the sales manager at Horizon, was under Frank’s protection. In fact, many people booked rooms through me as a way to get on Frank’s good side. Ryan drove me to the hospital. Tina was crying when she saw me: “I’m so sorry Ava, I didn’t know Room 503 was Harvey’s. He came late, and when he arrived he specifically asked for Mandy to drink with him. There was nothing I could do no matter what I said.” She felt very guilty. When Mandy first started, I had repeatedly instructed Tina to only let her into rooms with familiar, well-behaved clients until she got used to the work. There were clear finger marks on Tina’s face from being slapped, no doubt by Harvey as well. I patted her shoulder reassuringly. “It’s alright. Look on the bright side – now Mandy will have money to pay for her dad’s medical bills.” Mandy wasn’t seriously hurt. The diagnosis was a moderate concussion, requiring a few days in the hospital. As I expected, she was quite willing to settle privately. No one turns down money. Especially such a large sum. After leaving the hospital, I went straight home. Checking the time, it was almost midnight. After some thought, I called Ethan at this hour. I had found his number on the law firm’s official website. When he picked up, his voice was cool and low as usual, with a hint of annoyance at being woken up: “Hello, who is this?” “Mr. Yates, this is Ava from Horizon Nightclub.” “…” Ethan didn’t speak. He seemed to have woken up fully, falling into a brief silence. I laughed lightly. “I’m sorry, one of our girls was just assaulted. I wanted to consult you on whether we can press criminal charges for intentional injury.” “Where are you right now?” “Um, I just got home from the hospital.” I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out into the dark night. A smile slowly curved my lips. “I don’t know if you could come over at this hour. I can tell you all the details of what happened.” About half an hour later, in the dead of night, Ethan arrived as requested. When I opened the door wearing a lace camisole dress and holding a bottle of wine, he raised an eyebrow, as if expecting this. I smiled too, my damp hair falling loosely around my ears. I raised the wine bottle. “Want a drink?” “I don’t drink.” “Oh? What happens if you do?” He gazed at me intently, moving closer to grip my waist. Lowering his head to my ear, he let out a soft laugh. “I go crazy.”
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