Chapter Text
Tuesday October 5, Pt. 1
When you get up somewhat groggily in the morning, the email Silco promised to send is already in your inbox. A check of the time stamp confirms that he sent it in the middle of the night (3:32am, to be exact), which makes you wonder if the man ever sleeps. When you look at the total time you’ll need to watch the training videos you take a moment to do some mental math. Considering the deadline Silco set for you, you’re going to have to start them right away, or risk not getting them done by Friday.
Since failing to finish them isn’t an option, you shuffle into the kitchen to gather some breakfast before starting on the task ahead.
3:32am.
Sevika burst out of the house around 11pm last night. That means that the code red (whatever that means) Singed called in was resolved in only a few hours.
On one hand, you’re kind of annoyed at the man for interrupting what might have been a very important conversation. On the other you’re relieved that he did. Now that you’ve gotten some sleep (and enough distance from the situation to think about it), you realize that Sevika’s entrance had forced you to swallow back a question that probably would have come out wrong anyway.
“Silco, what are we doing?”
You scoff into the fridge as you pull out leftovers at random. It sounds even worse in the daylight, but it’s either that or:
“Silco, do you see me as a viable option for a romantic partner? Or is this thing where you invade my personal space and make me think you want to kiss me just for your own personal amusement?”
Yeah, that’s never going to happen.
Your sister left coffee on the counter last night, and with hardly a thought you fill up a glass with ice and pour out half of what’s left in the carafe. You top it with oat milk, and after snagging a banana you grab your foraged breakfast and crawl back into bed. A few pointless minutes later — when you’ve finished arranging and rearranging your food, computer, and notebook in different places on your lap and the side table with no conceivable end goal — you settle back against your pile of throw pillows and hit play on the first video.
It is at this exact moment that Jorts decides to jump on the bed and take an extreme interest in your keyboard.
“Jorts, stop!”
You push her away, and though her tail begins to flick she won’t be dissuaded from her quest. After a long battle of wills you’re forced to admit defeat and migrate to the kitchen. It’s usually a safe zone anytime before 12 because your sister likes to sleep in till noon, but as fate would have it, she chooses this morning to change her routine.
She shuffles in, eyes half open and purple hair in complete disarray. You know better than to talk to her before she talks to you first, so you wait patiently while she dumps what’s left of the coffee into a mug and shoves it into the microwave.
“So, how was hottie mchottie’s house yesterday?” She croaks through a yawn. “Full of scenes of a sexual nature?”
“By regency standards, maybe.”
“Are we talking, like, unprecedented hand touching, conversations held without a chaperone, or mutual pining?”
“A little bit of all three I guess."
"Ooh, scandelous!"
Except that the pining was all one sided, and technically you were the one who initiated contact. All Silco did was grab your wrist very, very tightly.
That's quite enough.
“How’s Mark’s Ass?” You force yourself to ask.
“Still as sweet as ever.”
Sweet isn’t the word you’d use to describe the man, but you let it slide.
“I’m talking to him this morning.”
“Wait, you actually got up because of him ?” You demand. “I can’t get you to get up for anything!”
“And I can’t get you to stay up late for anything.”
“That’s not true! I’ve totally been up past 12 for the last week at least.”
“Only because you've been texting and pining after a certain DILF you refuse to acknowledge is your crush.”
“I don't think putting ‘DILF’ and ‘pining’ in the same sentence was a good idea.”
“Yeah, no sorry. My bad.”
“Also, how do you know I’ve been texting him?”
“Aha!” She crows. “So you have?”
“No! I mean, not really. Just one time. And it’s not like it was a long conversation. It didn’t mean anything. It was for work.”
“Why so defensive?”
“Because you’re attacking me!”
“With the truth! I’m telling you babe, take it from me. You can do some pretty crazy things when you’re in love.”
You groan. "I'm not in love with Silco, okay? And please don’t tell me you’re in love with that fool Marcus after knowing him for like, a month.”
“Technically I've known him for three. And I don’t know, maybe I am. I’m not counting out the possibility. I’m just saying, sometimes you’re willing to sacrifice things you wouldn’t normally sacrifice when you love someone. A sensation which you might actually experience if you’d stop being in denial and let it in.”
“Who says I’m not totally open and willing to let love in?”
“Uh, me? I see you fight it every time I bring him up.”
"I've only known him for 5, 6 days tops.”
“So?”
“So?” You reply in exasperation. “That’s not how love works! At least, not for me. I need time for trust to build. Besides, I don’t even know if he likes me, and I’m not willing to say I love him unless I realistically stand a chance.”
“You’re not willing to say it? So you think you might love him?”
“What? No! I—”
“Hold that thought, Marcus is calling.”
You scowl at her as she pulls out her phone.
“Good morning Marc.”
“Good morning.”
He sounds extremely awkward, and you stuff in your headphones hoping to drown out not only their conversation, but the one you just had.
It’s ridiculous. Your sister might believe in love at first sight, but you don't. You’ve never been in love before. Infatuated to an unhealthy degree? Yes. But never in love. Besides, there's no way he could really be interested in you after less than a week. Forty year old men don't do things like that. At least, you're pretty sure they don't. Or maybe they do, but if they did, Silco wouldn't be included in that demographic.
He's far too careful for that.
You hit play on the video with more force than necessary, and sit brooding for a few minutes before you realize that you haven’t been taking notes. Or listening, for that matter. So you start over. Every second spent focusing on the video feels like an eternity, and you accomplish the sum total of nothing over the course of the next hour. When your sister hangs up with Marcus with the promise of calling him later in the day, you realize you’re not going to get any work done if you come home after your shift. So it’s either stay at the shop after close or go to The Last Drop to study.
Sevika did give you the key to her office, and the super secret code word to get into the club, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't curious about what it looks like inside.
That decides it for you. When you leave for your shift an hour later, you have everything packed for the evening, including a change of clothes that looks mildly club appropriate. If you’re going to show up to some super exclusive place owned by Silco, you feel like you have to at least pretend to look like you belong.
The drive to work is overcast.
Fluffy gray clouds are gathering over the city, and Zaun Community College’s radio station is playing Halloween themed classical music, adding to the deliciously gloomy atmosphere. You hum along to Dance Macabre as you take in the decorated yards along the drive. The local Hobby Lobby must have restocked their supply of small hay bales because there are an inordinate amount of them stacked on porches, propping up scarecrows and supporting piles of pumpkins, wooden signs, and skeletons.
You pull to a stop at a red light on the outskirts of downtown, and glance up at Zaun’s single city billboard out of habit. Yesterday, it showed nothing more than a picture of the city council inappropriately decorated by taggers, but overnight it had been covered by the long anticipated Harvest Festival ad. This year’s theme (as you expected) is Stranger Things, with the promise of a maze and a haunted house in addition to the usual festivities.
You expect Allie will want to go with Marcus this year, which means you’ll be forced to third wheel on another date. Not that you’re especially mad about it. If your sister thinks she’s actually in love with this guy, then you have a responsibility to vet him and make sure he’s worthy.
The light turns green, and you continue on your way, head full of your sister, Mark’s Ass, a DILF (you hate how easily it pops into your head), and all the things you have to accomplish before Friday.
How on earth did Silco think you’d be able to finish the entire manager training course and the test in four days? It must be because the man doesn’t do anything but eat, sleep, and breathe work. In fact, you’re not even sure he sleeps, and now that you’re thinking about it, there might be a legitimate outside chance that he’s a vampire.
You’re half tempted to ask Jinx if he hates garlic or hisses at crucifixes.
And speaking of vampires, when you walk into the coffee shop you realize for the first time that you’ve never seen the place decorated for Halloween. Every business in town gets into the spirit of things except for Silco’s establishments.
You resolve, for your first act as soon-to-be-manager, to make the place suitable for fall.
“Issa, do you think you could rustle up some props from the archives?" You ask the girl while you clock in.
Issa's one of the backstage hands for ZCC's theater club.
“Sure, why?”
“I want to decorate the place for Halloween.”
“What? Decorate? I want in!” Connor calls from somewhere in the front.
“We should totally make a night of it,” Adds a second voice - Monique - excitedly. “I’ve got a movie projector!”
“Any movie suggestions?”
“The Addams Family!” Issa and Connor say at the same time.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” You wrap an apron around your middle. “I’ll send out a few date possibilities for next week.”
The excited chatter that follows this announcement is good enough for you. Operation “Halloween” will commence with plenty of time before the end of the season. Now you just have to clear it with Sevika.
“I don’t give a damn, so long as I don’t have to do anything. Just clear it with Silco first.”
You grin at the text and slip your phone into your pocket. Your spirits are high as you wash your hands and head back to the espresso machine to pull shots.
“Hi Jim, how are you?”
“Leslie! Good to see you! How are classes going this semester?”
“Hi Josh! You gettin’ your usual?”
“Medium vanilla latte with oat milk, you got it!”
The day couldn’t have flown by any faster, and before you know it you’ve finished closing the drawer, locked the door behind you, and are heading to the bathroom to change. The skirt you’re wearing is short and trendy, the shirt semi-professional, and the heels are at least two inches high, making them the closest thing you have to club foot attire. Your hope is that, after putting on some makeup, you’ll actually look like a person who’s supposed to be allowed into the building.
Even though it’s a Tuesday night, there’s a sizable crowd outside The Last Drop. The bouncer at the door looks like one of those guys Jinx noted could crush a watermelon with his thighs. His arms are crossed over his chest as he watches you approach with cool disinterest. Or what you assume is cool disinterest, because you can't actually see his expression behind his sunglasses.
“Hi, my name’s — ”
“I know who you are.”
You can’t hide your surprise. “You do?”
“We were told to look out for you.”
By who? You can’t help but wonder.
“Oh, alright. Well, do I need to tell you the password or… ”
“No ma’am,” He says, rapping on the door with his knuckles.
Ma’am?
Bumping music pours out onto the green washed sidewalk as the club opens.
“Take the stairs on the left to the second floor. A man will stop you, and just tell him your name and that Haim sent you. The offices will be on your left.”
“Cool, thanks.”
The second you step into the room you know you’re out of your element. It’s dark, loud, and crowded, but at least nobody pays you any attention as you skirt around the outside of the enormous space. As you slither through the throng you’re given ample opportunity to take in the room. Around the outside are private alcoves, backlit in blue. Heavy brocade curtains hang from walls gilded with burnished bronze in a distinctly art deco style. Tall drink tables and billiards surround a dance floor, which is almost directly in front of an extremely busy bar. The ceiling is covered in a dazzling collection of crystal chandeliers and purple bar lights in the form of starbursts.
The place is beautiful, but now that you’ve seen it (and are almost going deaf from the music), you wonder how Silco gets any work done here at all.
When you finally make it to the staircase, you shout your name at the equally intimidating man standing at the top, and drop Haim's name. After a slow once over he nods and stands aside. You turn left as instructed and enter a hallway that is distinctly more shabby than the club, probably because it's a part of the original structure. The wooden floors are polished but scuffed, and the carpets plush but well worn. You run your fingers along the velvet wallpaper, which is peeling in a few places near the ceiling and along the wainscoting.
Somehow you like this part of the club better. It kind of reminds you of Silco, in a way. Worn, but still elegant.
You check the signs next to the doors and find Sevika’s office halfway down the hall. You pull out the key she’d given you and after a bit of a struggle manage to push the door open. To say that the office space is a let down would be an understatement. It’s minimalist, though in a neglected sense rather than an actual design choice. There's nothing inside except a desk and filing cabinets, and a fine layer of dust coats the tops of them all, giving you the impression that Sevika doesn’t use the space often.
If ever.
When you sit down in the rolling chair it creaks in a pitiful way and refuses to roll, creating an awkward moment as you grab the underside of the cushion and hop forward until you can reach the desk. The desk itself is the home to nothing more than a mouse, a mouse pad, and an ancient computer monitor.
You have to swallow back a laugh.
Seconds pass as you consider your options. You could stay here, head back to The Last Drip, or head home. There’s no way you’ll get any work done if you go home, and time is ticking. By the time you pack up, head back to The Last Drip, and turn off the alarm, so much time will have passed that it won't be worth it.
The only real viable option is to stay. At least there’s plenty of space for your computer, but it isn’t until you’ve completely set up that you realize that you were never given the wifi password.
Maybe the nice man guarding the steps will have it…
Except, the nice man guarding the steps is busy engaging in a heated argument with a drunk. Looking around, it’s hard to tell who else might actually work at the club except for the bartender. You figure he probably has access to that information, and squeeze past the bouncer and the drunk to make it to the counter. You aren’t sure he notices you at first, but after about a minute he shifts over.
“What’ll it be?”
“Can I have a bottle of Shimmer please? Unopened, if you don’t mind.”
He looks at you strangely, and you feel like you have to explain. “I’m here to work. I’m Sevika’s replacement managing The Last Drip.”
He grins, revealing a missing front tooth. “Oh, that’s you is it? Well drinks are on the house for you love.”
He disappears briefly before reappearing with a much larger bottle of Shimmer than you anticipated, but you don’t have the heart to deny the gift.
“Thank you. Could I also have the wifi password?”
He pulls a piece of paper from below the counter. “So, you’re the bosses’ new investment eh?”
There it is again.
Investment .
“I guess so.”
“I bet Sevika’s jumpin’ over the moon about now. She’s been tryin’ to get outta that place for years.”
“I think she is. And it sounds like she’s better qualified for the brewery expansion anyway.”
“Yeah, Chuck’s as clever as they come, but… well, let’s just say he gets easily distracted.”
He sends a significant look to a group of glammed up college students standing at a nearby table who are shouting, singing, and taking shots.
“Ah. I see.”
“Yeah, I believe you do. Wot’s your name again?”
You give it and he shakes your hand. “Well, it’s always a pleasure to welcome another one to the crew. My name’s Cal. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to find me. I’ll be here all night.”
There’s a shout across the bar, and with a friendly wave he leaves you.
You head back up the stairs, skirting around the fight, which has escalated to the point where Haim has come inside and is getting involved. When you reach the office, you notice that the door across from you is slightly ajar. A quick check of the tag reveals it to be Silco’s office.
You stand in the middle of the hall, indecisive, before slowly pushing open the door to peak inside. The room’s dark, but there’s a figure bending behind the desk, backlit by the ornate circular window.
Your heart jumps. “Silco?”
The figure flinches violently, and you hear a loud thump followed by a curse.
You flick on the lights, revealing a wide shouldered man in a suit looking surprised as he holds a cigar. You stare at each other for a few beats. He’s probably around your age, with caramel colored skin, amazing hair, and a well manicured beard. He reminds you of the type of guy who would play the love interest in a Hallmark movie called Christmas in Miami.
“Is there something I can help you with sweetheart?” He asks in a deliciously deep voice.
“No, sorry. I just saw that Silco’s office was open, and I know he’s out of town so I thought I’d investigate.”
“How considerate of you," When he smiles, his teeth are perfectly straight and white. "And who might you be?”
“I’m Sevika’s replacement at The Last Drip, as manager.”
“You’re a little young to be running the place, aren’t you?”
And you’re a little too young to be such a condescending ass.
You frown. “I don't think age has anything to do with skill.”
“Fair point. And there are plenty of old fools out there.”
Something about the way he glances back at the desk rankles you.
“The name’s Charles Rodriguez. Most people around here call me Chuck, but you can call me anything you like,” With a wink he holds out his hand.
You take it automatically, and regret it when his grip lingers.
So this is the man Sevika despises.
“You and the boss meet here often?”
Somehow you manage to tug your hand out of his grip. "No. I have a deadline for training, and Sevika told me I could come here to study.”
"In Silco's office?"
You nod. "Her office is pretty dusty, so she said I could use this one."
You’re not sure why you’re lying except that you don’t like Chuck, and you don’t think he’s supposed to be alone in Silco’s office.
”So if you don’t mind, I-”
“Study? It looks like you’ve come prepared for a party. Anyone in particular you were hoping to share that with?”
You'd forgotten about the large bottle in your hand.
“Cal gave it to me when I asked for the the wifi password. I’m not going to drink it.”
“No need to be so defensive. We’re all allowed to let loose when the boss is away."
You don't like the look in his eye.
"As it so happens, I have paperwork I need to finish up before the end of the week. I’ll share the space with you, and that bottle, if you don’t have any other plans for it.”
“Actually…”
His phone rings, cutting off your reply that you’d rather share the bottle with a baboon.
He answers with a sleazy, “Rodriguez here.”
A pause. “Fine. I’m on my way.”
He shuts his phone and slips it into his pocket with a dramatic sigh. “Well it looks like we’ll have to put our work date on hold. Duty calls. But I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot more of you around.”
His smile is probably meant to be charming, but it feels completely fake. You wait until the door closes behind his swaggering form before wrinkling your nose.
Sevika’s right, he’s a total mouth breather.
On a whim you wander over to Silco’s desk. It doesn’t look like anything’s out of place - not that you’d know what it would look like if everything was in place - but one of the drawers is slightly ajar.
Inside is a cigar box with a missing slot.
You take out your phone and chew on your lip as you start to compose a text.
“Hey, sorry to bother you, but do you normally keep your office locked?”
You’re about to slip your phone into your pocket when it starts to ring.
One look at the caller ID and your heart skips a beat.
"Hi Silco."