Chapter 3

• GIULIA
• Fucking arse hole!
• I gritted my teeth, trudging down the street, still thinking of that weirdo. Grumbling, I shoved what I purchased into my purse. I would have to eat that when I got to the place I would spend the night in.
• My stomach rumbled, but I ignored it. It wasn't as if this was the first time I had gone hungry for the entire day. My foster parents frequently starved me whenever I did something they warned me against.
• And did it work? Of course, not. Mary, most times, laughed at how willful I was. A pity she never fully got to know why I was that way.
• Halfway down the streets, my eyes landed on a neon light. 'De Parish Bar.'
• Huh?
• I frowned at the long line of people waiting at the door to be ushered in. I peered around the place, noting how deserted it was. In my angry state, I didn't realize where I was heading. It seemed I left the road I took to the convenience store, for the one behind it.
• I grimaced as a certain thought came to mind. I touched my purse. The bars I bought cost a freaking £5. Yet, there I was, thinking of exhausting more on liquors when I still hadn't found a place to crash.
• I couldn't tell how long I remained there before I marched towards the queue that had gotten smaller. Thankfully, I just turned eighteen a month ago. Otherwise, they would have kicked me to the curb. And it all would have been the fault of that rotten pervert!
• The last man in line cast an inquisitive glance at me. I squinted and he promptly turned, narrowly whipping my face with his long, black hair.
• Hmph!
• The line got shorter until it got to my turn. The bouncer said something in Spanish, and I brought my ID card out, not understanding a word he spoke. He frowned as he took the card from me, and spoke words in their language, which I shrugged to.
• God help me. Should I get through a week in this place, I would seek the nearest church to give a testimony of survival.
• He gave my ID back to me and expressed further hasty terms before he gestured for me to step in.
• “Phew,” I sighed as I stuffed the ID back into my purse. With a smile at the boisterous man, who looked like he could crush me with those meaty palms of his, I hurried into the bar.
• I blanched the minute I walked in. It was quiet out there until you stepped in. The thundering noise coming from the speakers was on a mission —to shatter eardrums.
• I hadn't been to a bar before, so it was a spectacle for me. From my position at the door, my eyes took in the dancers gyrating to the rhythm of the rock.
• “This looks like fun.” I nodded, a bit used to the deafening music as I sought the bar which I found at the right corner of the room, and I made a beeline for it.
• I weaved through the sweaty dancers until I got to my destination. I had a plan in mind; to get drunk, rock until I drop, and crash there for the night. The following day, I would inquire if they need any workers.
• Who knows, I might be lucky.
• Ludicrous enough, the music wasn't loud in this part of the room. I could still sense the reverberation, but not that loud.
• The moment I sat on the barstool, a bartender turned to me, beaming handsomely. His black eyes were so fascinating that I gawked into them, enthralled by the pretty orbs.
• He uttered something in Spanish, bringing my attention back to the present. I nodded at him, despite not knowing what he said.
• He repeated his words once more and when I nodded, he exhaled. “You didn't understand me, did you?” he asked with a precise command of my language.
• I responded with a smile. "That's right! Pardon me. I haven't been here for long, so...”
• “It's alright. I've seen my fair share of people like you. What would you like to have? Cocktails?”
• “The cheapest beer you have.”
• “What?” He stared, stunned at my order. Perhaps he was expecting me to mention an expensive drink or something like that.
• “The cheapest beer, man. I still need to save.” I placed both hands on the counter and beamed at him. “How much will that be?”
• “… Um… A caña of cheap beer is £3. You can—”
• I snorted at the figure. “What? Are you freaking kidding me right now? Are you trying to rip me? How the hell could that be—”
• “Get a cocktail for her. The most expensive one. I will pay,” a voice said behind me.
• “Right at it.” The bartender went to work promptly.
• I turned to look at the person who had just spoken. A middle-aged guy sat on the bar stool next to me. He had his brown hair slicked back with sufficient gel to last me a lifetime. He would have looked okay with his amber iris and pointed nose had it not been for his partially burnt face.
• I smiled politely to mask the gasp I would have let out. After all, he purchased a drink for me.
• “Hi.”
• “I'm Eric, and you?” He brought his hand out for a shake.
• My eyes went to his outstretched palm and lingered on it for a minute before I brought mine out. “I'm Mary,” I lied through my teeth, smiling at him.
• Please forgive me, Mary. There was no way I could tell someone like him my real name. I was still running from my foster parents after all.
• “What a lovely name for a beautiful damsel.” He let go of my palm and brought his chair closer. “Can we get to know each other?” He grinned as he placed his palm on mine.
• “…. Of course!” I forced out, yanking my hand back as if his hand scorched it.
• “Perfect, we can get to know each other after your drink comes. I own a VIP section here. We can go there later, love.” As he spoke, his hand crept to my back, only to have him place it on my rear.
• I forced a smile and tactfully removed it. My patience was at its peak.
• “Come on, you don't have to be modest. I know girls like you. We can have a lot of fun.” He tried to touch me again, but I slapped his hands off me.
• “What the fuck!” I stood up from the barstool. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
• “Someone who's going to screw you hard before the end of the night,” he stated flatly, eyes fastened on my boobs, which were thankfully concealed by the Hawaii shirt I was putting on.