Not Selling My V-Card II
Megan's POV
Stacy was a downright mess. I had her sit at the corner of the bar, while I prepped, shake and mix drinks for the rest of the club. Rosie said she'd told Joe what had happened, but he'd remained in his office, busy with something else. I kept handing her napkins from under the bar to dab her face with. "I didn't do anything!" She cried, blowing into the tissue. "Stacy, the cab will be here soon alright? I'll have Josie cover your area too. " I responded calmly. Joe stormed into the area. "Stacy! My office. NOW!" He barked, barely heard over the electric music that was playing right now. I patted her shoulder softly in support and she managed a weak smile, following him to the office. I sighed, mindlessly shaking the cannister.
"Quite, a show" Steve drawled. "I'm glad you found it entertaining, but it's not so funny for us, okay? But you wouldn't get it, none of you would." I snapped almost slamming the glass onto the pickup area. I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I'm just shaken" I apologized, shaking my head.Sam waved it off, nodding in understanding. It really wasn't a good time to lose my shit here. Especially since Joe looked like he would fire anyone else that fucked up tonight. "Stacy! Your cab's out front!" I called after her, as she walked quickly out of the bar. She waved and hurried away.
I heaved a heavy sigh as I rested my arms against the countertop. There were no orders at the moment, so I could take a breather. I stared up at the trio, who were towering over my slouched form. I rested my chin in my palm as I sat down on one of the chairs we had on the inside, next to the fridge. "Isn't there any other bar in upstate New York for you to be?Or any other waitress for you to chat up?" I asked, bored, tired and in pain. "If there were, sweetcheeks, that's where I'll be" Steve flirted. I groaned, rolling my eyes at the cheesiness. "Seriously man" I whined, uncharacteristically. "So, uh Diana, is this your part-time job or full time?" Sam asked. I narrowed my eyes at him, "That information is not on the menu. I could, however, give you information about any other person in this club who has been here before" I shrugged. They just laughed. "Right so how will y'all be paying?" I asked, changing the topic. "Same as always darlin'." Steve said, nodding as Sam handed over the black card. "So, you have a twin brother or something?" I asked, curiously."Why?" T'Challa asked for them. "Well, he's got the same name on the card, initials and everything as one of the guests here tonight." I said offhandedly, as I swiped the card. "Here??" Sam asked quickly, practically leaning over the counter. "Buddy, I just wiped the counter tops, c'mon" I protested, pushing him gently back. "Yeah, a private party. The last name was Starn or something. Anthony Starn. Nice dude." I said, wiping the counter tops once more as I gave Sam a half-hearted glare.
"Starn? Or was it Stark?" Steve said, a weird look in his eyes. "Yeah! That's it! Stark. You guys should totally get him a job with your place, seeing he has the same last name and everything" "Was it this guy?" Steve asked, fiddling with his phone and showing it to me. I rolled my eyes" Don't tell me he's some famous guy, that I should know about" "You've never seen this man?" T'Challa asked, shocked. "Hmph, like I told that private party, my father really doesn't allow media in the house. No tv, newspapers etcetera. The only glimpses I get is on the freakin newstands, and even then, its when I'm rushing here. So cut me some slack" I grumped.
"Oh" They echoed, looking a little confused and stunned at my admission. "Yeah. So to answer your question, yeah that's Anthony. Is he a friend or something?"
"Something like that" Sam said too quickly. "Mhmmm" I hummed skeptically "Sure honey," I said mockingly, as I returned the card to them with their receipt. "Diana! Drinks!" Josie hollered, setting the chcits down on the counter. I gave them a quick read-through, and got to work making them. Glancing back at the trio, I saw as Sam nudged Steve, grinning cheekily, while T'Chall looked away, a smirk on his lips. "Hey, Diana!" Sam called. "Be right with ya!" I responded, placing the glasses at the pick up area, with the respective chits under them. "Sup guys, another order?" I asked. "Steve wants to ask you something" I raised my eyebrows at Steve. He glared at Sam."So, uh, we could, uh, like, um, hangout?" I just stared at him. "What?"
"What he means, is we would like to know you better, Miss Diana, in a more casual setting" T'Challa intervened. I blinked at them."Hah!" I barked a laugh, watching as they all jumped. "Now, I know you've had too much to drink my friends, if you're wanting to know me" I said to Sam, clearing their empty glasses. "What, why? I'm not drunk" Steve looked almost offended at the thought of being drunk. "Mhmm. Tell ya what. You think over what you just asked- asking the lil ol bartender out- like some twisted tale. And, by your next visit, you'd have changed your mind, and we'll go on with life. Alright?" I smiled sweetly.
"Awh c'mon, don't be such a prude. The guy's doing you a favor by asking your bitch ass out.Or, you could just come out with me. I'd show you a real good time, with a real man." A man jeered from where he was next to the trio. I put my hands on my hips, glaring at the stranger."Okay, first of all, fuck off. We don't even know each other. Second of all, fuck you, because I can make my own damn decisions, alright? And third, I get enough invitations from selfish entitled asses like you who think that just because they work for big companies like Stane Limited, you can demand that people like me sleep with you? I don't think so fucker." I growled. "Stalker ass bitch. Knows where I work." He mumbled, stumbling off into the mass of dancing bodies. I heaved a sigh, and turned back to them. "Right, Steve, it was really nice of you to ask. But I really don't think you'd want to know your bartender better, alright. You're drunk. You have to be." I said softly to him, the ending sentence almost a whisper. "And, if we come back next time, and we haven't changed our minds?" T'Challa challenged. "I really doubt that'll be the case." I snorted, self derisively. "But if it is?" Steve pressed. "Then, we can hang." I said simply, not really paying mind to what I just said. I watched as the drunk from earlier waddled to the bar, drink in hand, as he tipped the contents all over me. "Fuck!" I cursed loudly. I quickly took off my work shirt, to prevent the cold sticky alcoholic drink from seeping through to my bra, thankful that I'd left the tank on inside the shirt. "Son of a Bitchh" I hissed, dabbing at my tank with the napkins. I was about to rip this dude a new one, when Natasha appeared, out of literally no where, and slammed her hand into the guy's windpipe and landed a punch in his gut. "Now go. Before I do worse." She said coldly. The trio were standing there looking around rapidly. "Natasha, you didn't have to d-" She faced me "He deserved it, the scum." She casually turned, leaning against the bar. "Hey boys" she said cheekily. "You know them?" "No-" "Yes-" "We barely-" "-from work" I blinked at the 4 responses. "Ookay, might want to get your story sorted." I said. Natasha, faced me and grabbed my wrist. I held in a wince. "What happened there?" She asked looking at my upper arms that were exposed in this tank. I knew instantly, that she was talking about the bruises.
I took my hand out of hers. "Nothing, I...sleepwalk into stuff. So this happens alot." I lied. Our exchange had drawn Steve's and T'Challa's attention as well. Sam had left to make sure the guy left the club for good. I felt nervous and exposed under all 3 of their gazes. "Right, so uh, I'm gonna get a new shirt and stuff... Uh enjoy the rest of your night! So sorry for all the incidents" I clasped my hands and smiled tightly, waving down Rosie. "Rosie, hey, I'm gonna get cleaned up, think you could cover me for a bit?" I told her, gesturing to my wet shirt in my hand. "Yeah, uh sure thing" She said chirpily. I cringed as I thought about what she was doing with Joe, and walked out of the public area.
I went into the employees' restroom and looked around for anyone. The club's night was in full swing so everyone was out on the floor. I fell heavily to the floor and started to sob. I didn't even know why I was crying. God knows I hated it. It was messy, noisy and really didn't make things any better, nor did it solve any problems. I buried my face in my hands and cried even louder. For what, I wasn't sure. For the abuse, Stacy endured? For the horrible act, I saw Joe do on Rosie? For how I could never dream of having people like Steve, Natasha, T'Challa and even Sam as my friend? For how badly I wanted out of my horrid home situation? How I couldn't tell anyone? Talk to anyone? How could people be so cruel to other people just because they could?
Up till this point, I could never understand this emptiness I felt. But now I knew. I just wanted it all to end.
An arm went around me. I stilled and backed away hastily, crawling away. "Whoa buddy-" I said my voice hoarse before I saw who it was. "Sir, you're-" Anthony waved his hand."Oh please. Like I could ignore it when I hear this terrible sounds coming from this room. Wanna talk?" He asked soothingly, his chocolate eyes gazing into mine. "Uh, not really" I sniffled, harshly rubbing my tears away and blowing my nose into my alcohol-ruined shirt. Attractive, I know. "Wanna talk about those bruises?" He asked leaning back against the wall, head tilted towards me. I rubbed my arms self consciously. "Not really..." I said, my voice cracking. He nodded, in understanding. "You know, I was held captive before." I looked up at him with sore eyes. "And for the longest time, I couldn't understand why it had to happen to me. What was the purpose of it all. Y'know?" I nodded my head, a little taken aback by the rawness in his eyes. "It didn't happen overnight, and I had a couple of really good friends-family almost that helped me through it all. See, the point is, even when you feel like giving up, you shouldn't."
"It's not that easy as 'not giving up' Anthony. " I murmured leaning back against that same wall as him. "You don't know the whole story. You just. Just met me! Not everyone is blessed with people, friends that they can count on to help them through it all. Some survive...and some just don't" I whispered. He shook his head firmly, reached over and grasped my hand in his. I looked up, shocked, as that was the first time anyone had ever held my hand since my mother passed. "You made it this far, Diana." I shook my head "Diana's just my middle name. My name's Megan" I corrected him. If we were going to be sharing deep stuff, I'd want it to be with my real self and not my masked persona. "Megan. I'm Tony. See, Megan, don't let all that be for naught. You're strong, you're a survivor. And, if you'd allow it, I'd really like to be a friend that you can count on. I recently lost a good half of my friends, because of our differing beliefs. And I was scared to make new friends,because I didn't want them to leave me again. I'm taking a chance here, take it with me?" He asked earnestly, the confident, playboy persona he had from earlier was stripped. All that I could see, was his inner self, the self he kept hidden from others. "Fine. But if I'm a serial killer who kills all her friends it's on you, Tony" I said breathily, a little enamored by his stunning looks, tightening my grip on his hand. "And if I'm a axe murderer who befriends people right before killing them, it's on you, Megs" he joked back. "I don't get it. We just met. I'm just another bartender. My friend says you're famous. So surely you've been to tons of bars like this one."
"Well, let's just say, I can recognize a kindred spirit. And those are in short supply." He quipped winking at me. He sighed, standing up. "Come on then, think we can request you for the rest of the night?" I looked at his hand, unsure for a moment before I decided to take it. He'd change his mind, I was sure of it. I didn't want him to, but it would happen eventually. He was an important somebody. I didn't want to burden him with my problems, troubles and thoughts! No. No. I'll just pretend that everything is fine. He wanted to be my friend. No one would want to be friends if they knew the sort of shit I was in. So, Tony, could never know. And if I play this just right, who knows what would come out of it? Maybe, just maybe, I'd get my very first friend. Someone to count on. Now wouldn't that be lovely?