The Lounge – Afternoon Shift
"Hey pretty boy! I need a milkshake, an extremely cold milkshake and make it sweet."
Harper turned with the tray still in his hand, trying not to sigh. Olivia's voice had that spoiled lilt again, the one that sent most workers stiff with unease.
"Yes ma'am!" he replied quickly, heading toward the bar.
"Olivia, you can't take sweet things!" her escort whispered, rushing up behind her. Her hand froze mid-sip, eyes narrowing.
"Don't tell me what to do, idiot!" she snapped.
Harper flinched. The entire lounge went momentarily still.
"I'm sorry!"
"Just get out!"
The poor escort staggered back, clearly mortified.
"I'm sorry, please…"
"Move far away from me!" she shouted again, glaring with fire in her eyes.
The girl hesitated, then moved back a few feet, her head low. Everyone knew Olivia's temper. And everyone knew she was untouchable.
Yes—Olivia. One of the noble courtesans. Proud. Crazy. Revered. Feared. The kind of woman you approached with caution. Whispers said she once served the President. Now, her companion was a minister she'd helped into power. No one dared challenge her.
Well—almost no one.
She only feared Angel.
The mysterious Angel. Harper had been here for weeks but never seen her. Word was, Angel's companion was a mafia boss—rich, dangerous, loyal. Angel didn't walk the lounge like others. She ruled the casino, where real power danced in shadows. Untouchable. Worshipped.
Olivia, for all her fire, never crossed Angel.
The courtesan house was a nest of snakes. Pretty, venomous snakes dressed in silk and heels. Behind the perfume and laughter, envy brewed. Alliances were shallow. Betrayal was common. Only a few courtesans had true friendships, and even fewer survived them.
Harper placed the drink on her table.
"Harper, give my drink to me damnit!"
Startled from her thoughts, she quickly passed it over. "Oh! I'm sorry! Here it is."
"What were you thinking about?"
"Just a little stuff."
Olivia leaned in, lips curling into a smug smile.
"You like me, don't you?"
Harper blinked. "What?"
"You were busy staring at me, Harper."
"I wasn't!" She straightened her back, suddenly alert.
"It's hard to resist my good looks, right?"
"I'm not interested in you, Olivia." Her voice came out tighter than she wanted.
"You surely do! You can't keep your eyes off me, and guess what Harper—I like you too."
Harper's jaw dropped. "What!"
"You look so handsome and cute, Harper."
Her skin prickled. "Don't you have a companion, Olivia? You can't look at other men till you're done with him."
"That rule applies to outsiders. I can have any man I want within the courtesan house. The minister doesn't have to know."
"I'm only 17 years, Olivia! Keep your dirty thoughts to yourself."
"I asked Fransisca—she said you're almost 18. And it doesn't matter—you're a boy."
"I can't do that with you. I'm not interested in you."
"Didn't you use to fuck those younger escorts? I'm only 5 years older than you."
"Who said such? I fuck the escorts? That's ridiculous!"
"They're always talking about you every now and then."
"Doesn't mean that I'm sleeping with them!" Harper crossed her arms.
"Liar! I'm gonna catch you some days."
"It will never happen."
Olivia leaned closer, lips grazing the rim of her glass. "I will wait till you are 18. I will have the guards bundle you up and take you to the nobles' hall."
Harper took a step back. "You would not do that, Olivia!"
"Wait and see!" She smiled and turned, sipping her drink like she hadn't just dropped a live grenade.
Harper exhaled. "Oh my God. She's so cringy."
"Harper, darling!" someone squealed from the entrance.
The tray dropped with a clatter as a woman in expensive florals rushed in. Harper groaned.
"Another troublemaker," she muttered.
Daisy. Of course. Her energy was impossible to miss. She dropped a box on the table and flopped into the chair with flair.
"Are you working too hard, Harper? You look stressed."
"I'm fine. I just serve drinks—that's all."
"I saw that bitch Olivia leaving here just now. Did she come to disturb you? She said in class that she wants to sleep with you."
Harper stared. "She said that? Is she crazy?"
"She is definitely crazy! How can she say such things when she knows that I like you?"
"Daisy, did you tell them over there that you like me too?"
"Of course I always do! Everyone knows that I like you, Harper."
Harper ran a hand over her face. "Oh my God."
"I bought you a gift, Harper. Here—look at the sneakers I got you."
"You don't have to!"
"It was hard getting your size in the men's line—your leg is so small."
"How did you know my size?"
"I asked my escort to bring your sneakers to me. I checked and it was my size as well."
Harper laughed, half amused, half terrified. "Y'all will get me killed someday. Your companions are gonna kill me."
"Eishh, don't worry about that. His subscription will finish this month, and he already got everything he wanted from me. I'm not sure he will renew—so I will be free."
"Don't you want another companion?"
"I won't do any long-term job for now. I'm going for a vacation, and I'm taking you with me."
"What? That's ridiculous, Daisy. You can't do that."
"I'm a noble courtesan—I can do anything."
Harper blinked at her. "Thanks for the sneakers. You need to prepare for the casino tonight. I heard your Mr is coming."
"Yes, he is!"
"Quickly go and dress up, Daisy. Don't be late. Make some money for the house."
"Alright, darling—I will go since you said so."
"Thank you."
"Do you need anything?"
"I'm perfectly fine."
"I can send you money if you want."
"No need, Daisy. I get paid here."
"I'm sure it's not enough. Let me give you money—I can give you a million."
"Thank you, Daisy. I don't need it, okay? I will see you later."
"Alright, bye bye!" She waved excitedly, cheeks tinted pink as she walked away.
Harper stared at her retreating figure.
I don't know why they're falling in love with a girl… I'm just a girl, man. They don't have anything reasonable to use the money for.
Harper had been serving at the courtesan house for a whole year. And though a lot of shit went down in the house—gossip, betrayal, and the constant air of tension—it wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. At least, not for her.
Well… maybe bad for the courtesans, who were always clawing at each other's throats behind fake smiles.
She leaned silently against the hallway wall, just out of sight. From her hidden vantage point, she watched the courtesan training room through a small open window. Inside, the noble courtesans sat in beautiful rows—dressed like royalty, eyes fixed on a polished instructor. Their elegance stung Harper more than any insult. She envied them. Not for the makeup, not for the silk, but for the education.
They studied languages, literature, politics—stuff Harper never had access to. The class looked so unreal, like a scene pulled straight from an expensive magazine. She clutched the tray she held tighter, her heart aching with longing. I wish I could just attend one class… just once.
She was still peeping when suddenly, a firm grip landed on her shoulder.
Startled, Harper spun around in a flash, twisting the arm on instinct. In one smooth motion, she slammed the figure hard against the wall, hand still clamped around the wrist.
"What the hell!" the person screamed out in shock and pain.
Realizing it was a courtesan, Harper's eyes widened and she immediately let go, backing off a step.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" she gasped, the tray nearly slipping from her hand as guilt settled into her chest. Her breathing quickened. Shit, I messed up.
The courtesan staggered forward with wide eyes, rubbing her wrist. Then without hesitation, she raised her hand and slapped Harper hard across the face. The sound echoed off the marble walls.
"Who the hell are you? Why are you peeping here?"
Harper staggered a bit from the sting, holding her cheek. "I'm sorry! I was just passing by."
The woman scoffed. "Passing by and looking at where you can never go into? This place was built for the courtesans—how dare you peep?"
"I'm sorry," Harper muttered, her eyes flicking up—and freezing.
The courtesan's face. It was familiar, almost hauntingly so. Sharp cheekbones, honeyed skin, bold eyes lined with perfect wings. She was beautiful—striking even—and carried the kind of energy that made others shrink. Yet Harper couldn't remember where she'd seen her before.
"How dare you look at me!" the woman barked, her voice venomous. "A trash boy like you staring at a noble courtesan? You must wish for death!"
"I'm sorry!" Harper said quickly, panic seeping into her voice. Her heart pounded. "I don't know you, I'm sorry."
"You don't know me?" the courtesan asked sharply. She turned toward her escort. "Who the hell is he?"
The female escort stepped forward, her tone neutral but her eyes slightly amused. "He is the boy that all the courtesans are swooning over. He works at the lounge."
The beautiful woman turned sharply. Her lips curled as she repeated the name like she was tasting something sour. "Oh… the pretty boy that Olivia likes?"
"Yes, Angel."
Harper flinched. Angel. So this was the one courtesan Olivia feared. The one with the mafia companion. The most famous one in the house. She was dangerous.
Angel's lips twisted into a smirk as she took a slow step closer, eyes trailing Harper from head to toe.
"How come you don't know me? I'm the most famous courtesan here."
"I'm sorry, I haven't seen you before, that's why," Harper answered quickly, trying not to make eye contact.
"You haven't been to the noble hall?"
"Yes! I haven't."
Angel raised a brow. "I guess you can fight since you almost broke my hand just now."
Harper's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Angel. It was a mistake."
Angel stared at her for a beat, then waved her hand. "Don't worry. Just go."
"Thank you!" Harper nearly whispered, and took off like her life depended on it, her heart racing as she turned the corner.
Angel watched her retreat, the smirk never leaving her lips.
"Why did you let him go?" the escort asked, surprised.
"She looks interesting," Angel said slowly, her tone low, eyes narrowed.
"She? He is a boy."
Angel scoffed. "Lies. She is no boy! Only a fool will mistake her for a boy. She has female features… and looks too womanly to be a boy."
The escort hesitated. "Are you going to tell Madam Fransisca? She treats him well and gave him a separate room."
Angel turned, her silk dress swaying with her motion. "Since she gave her a separate room, she definitely knows she is a girl. And since Olivia likes her…"
She paused, her smirk turning wicked.
"I'm gonna mess with her a little," she whispered—and laughed darkly.