Chapter Text
“I was going to buy the club, but it’s a lot less work to just have you work there for the month,” Valentino explains, blowing pink smoke in Angel’s direction. It makes his head swim, and his concentration, which was already shoddy at best, starts to falter. “Do you understand, Angelcakes?”
“Yes, Valentino,” Angel replies, keeping his voice steady despite the way his stomach churns at the nickname.
“Good boy. Go on now, there’s a car waiting outside to bring you to the club.” Angel nods and walks out of the office, doing everything he can to make it look like he’s not rushing to get away from Valentino. Just as he said, a sleek black car is idling on the side of the road. Angel steps inside, just barely being able to shut the door before the driver tears off.
He watches the buildings pass by, his breath intermittently fogging up the window. Angel has always loved car rides. It gives him a chance to think, something he’s getting less and less of lately. Valentino, someone he once loved and now can’t seem to stop loving, owns his soul and uses it in the worst possible way. He exploits Angel in every way he can, using the way Angel can’t seem to get himself to hate him to his advantage.
And Angel can’t help but hate himself for it. The way he willingly handed over his soul as if it meant nothing. In the moment, he was scared and desperate. It was his first month in Hell and the extermination had just happened. Angel had, somehow, survived but he was terrified. He knew he wouldn’t survive it again so when Valentino found him on the side of the road, curled up under an awning, and offered him not only protection but also fame and money, Angel was quick to agree.
As he thinks back on it he has the realization that if he could do it all again, he still would say yes. Angel can’t think of another way that he would’ve survived after that. Angel is booted out of the past by the driver yelling at him. “Get the fuck out of my car I don’t have all day!”
“Fine asshole.” Angel climbs out of the car, using three hands to flip the driver off while the fourth slams the car door with more force than necessary. As the car disappears over the hill, Angel turns to look at the club he was dropped off at. It looks much more sophisticated than any club he’s used to. He pushes the door open, two hands on his hips and the other two fidgeting with his gloves.
“Mr. Angel Dust?” A voice calls out to his left. He turns to see an imp standing off to the side. He has a neat suit on and a clipboard in his hand. He looks over the paper on the clipboard before looking back up at Angel. “You are Mr. Angel Dust, yes?”
“Oh. Um, yeah.” Angel nods. He hadn’t meant to stand there staring but he wasn’t expecting it to be so formal.
“Excellent, follow me.” The imp turns and starts walking, not looking back to see if Angel is following. He does follow, trying to take in everything around him. The walls are black but also somehow glowing a dull yellow, while all the lights seem to have a cool blue tinge to them. They greatly contrast the overwhelming amount of red in the rest of Hell which Angel finds refreshing.
He continues to follow the imp until they get to a hall of doors. They’re all a different color, a different plaque on each. They stop in front of one with a large ‘M’ on it and the imp knocks, standing back to wait patiently. There’s a quiet ‘come in’ from inside and the imp opens the door, gesturing for Angel to step inside. When he does the imp shuts the door behind them and walks up to the large desk in the middle of the room. Angel takes a minute to inspect the room. It has an overwhelming smell of cherries and everything seems to be colored a muted red. So much for the blue. Angel thinks, sighing.
A few lounge chairs are lying around as well as a large vanity with an absurd amount of cosmetics on it. Angel understands wanting to look pretty with makeup but having four different mascaras might be a tad excessive. The rest of the room that isn’t occupied by furniture is covered in clothes. They’re on mannequins, hangers, and lying about the ground. Everything in the room screams ‘organized chaos’.
Angel finally turns to the woman sitting behind the desk. He can’t quite tell because she’s sitting down, but based on her stature she seems rather short. She has her blonde hair cut into a bob, and a black headband with two feathers, both different shades of red, sits on her hair delicately. From what Angel can see of her outfit it looks like she’s wearing something very similar to a flapper dress, also in red. This chick really likes red. Angel thinks, watching her listen to the imp whispering in her ear. She nods and with a wave of her hand, which Angel just now notices has a glove on it, the imp walks out of the room. She turns to Angel and smiles. “Hiya Angel Dust!” Her voice is high and she has a similar accent to Angel.
“Hi.”
“My name is Mimzy, it’s a pleasure to meet ya. You’re here on behalf of Valentino, yes?” She asks, shuffling through papers on her desk.
“Yes,” He says. “Ma’am.” He adds on, struck by a sudden need to be polite. If Angel pissed this chick off and Val heard about it, he would be in a world of pain.
“Oh, none of that hun.” Mimzy waves off his politeness which only serves to put Angel more on edge. If she doesn’t want him to be polite what is he supposed to do?
“Alright,” She mumbles, reading through a paper. “So it looks like I got ya for a month. What do you want to do?”
“Sorry?” Angel asks, confused. Usually, it’s ‘you’ll be doing this’ and ‘do this or maybe that’ never ‘what do you want to do’.
“For work,” Mimzy says, eyes roaming over the paper before flicking up to meet his. “Do you wanna sing, bartend, waitress, cook? We got all sorts of stuff here. If ya just want to sit in the back and relax that’s fine too.”
Doing nothing is a lot worse than having to do something in Angel’s opinion but he takes a minute to think about it. “Singin’ I guess. You guys seem like a ritzy place though. Sure you want me?”
“Of course! You’re talented! I’ve seen some of your stuff.” Mimzy says. “Not the porn. The dancing. We don’t have a pole and you won’t be stripping but if you’d like to sing and maybe dance a little I’m sure it’ll be just as entertaining!”
No pole, no stripping, no sex. Angel is going to admit, he has no idea how to react. She pretty much just ruled out the only things he knows how to do. “Uhm, ok.” He agrees.
Mimzy claps happily. “Okay, let me show you to your dressing room. Rowen, that’s the imp that brought you here, will be up on stage with you to help out. You know, play the piano, or guitar, or just there for moral support. Whatever.” She shrugs, opening the door for Angel. He walks out and follows her to a pink door with a cursive ‘A’ on it. He opens the door and his jaw falls open. It’s perfect.
Everything is pink and soft. Like him. “I didn’t know much about you but I tried to make it comfortable for you.” Mimzy shrugs.
“I love it,” Angel says, suddenly embarrassed by the way his eyes are burning. He’s used to just dealing with whatever he has to, no one has ever made something with him in mind. Mimzy tells him to make himself at home and disappears, promising to talk to him tomorrow. Angel walks further into the room, shutting the door behind him. His room is set up similarly to Mimzy’s, minus the desk.
There’s a queen-sized bed on one side of the wall, directly opposite to what looks to be a fully stocked walk-in closet. There’s a large vanity with every kind of makeup Angel can imagine neatly stacked on it. Everything looks so clean and comfy. He’s struck by the sudden urge to stay here and never go back to Valentino. The slight pull in his chest that he feels every so often serves as a reminder that he belongs to Valentino and there’s nothing he can do to change that.
Burying that depressing thought in what he likes to call his ‘mind graveyard’, Angel spends the rest of the night looking through all his new stuff. He wonders if Val will let him keep any of it and that idea makes him a bit more hopeful for the future.
The next morning Angel wakes up feeling refreshed for the first time in his afterlife. The bed that had been placed in his new dressing room was incredibly soft and had just the right amount of warm-to-cold ratio. He stretches, going into the connected bathroom he found yesterday when he had been snooping. As he gets ready for the day, he starts getting steadily more excited. Not only does he have a whole new wardrobe to break in but he also gets to experiment with his makeup.
After about twenty minutes of trying to figure out what he wants to wear, he settles on a blue striped t-shirt with a heart-shaped keyhole in the middle. He also finds a pair of incredibly comfortable shorts that are just short enough that he puts on a dark blue skirt over it. To finish off the outfit he puts on long baby blue socks, deciding to leave footwear for after. He sits down at the vanity, using the headband that was placed off to the side to pull his hair back from his face. He opens various drawers and cabinets to reveal different shades and brands of makeup. He spends the next ten minutes experimenting with different eyeshadow and eyeliner looks.
In the middle of him applying a different shade of green to his eyes, there’s a knock at the door. “Come in!” Angel calls. Mimzy walks in, glancing around the room before landing on Angel.
“Oh Angel Dust, you look so cute!” She squeals.
“Thanks.”
She comes over with a clipboard and sits on the seat Angel had used to pull his socks on earlier. “Okay so, there are a few opportunities to perform today but I thought it would be more productive if I just gave you a tour instead. I want you to be familiar with the place before you have to perform.”
Angel’s hand pauses, a mascara wand hovering a few inches away from his eyelashes. “Yeah, okay. Lemme just finish my makeup.”
“Of course. I’ll be outside!” Without another word, she opens the door and closes it quietly behind her. Angel stares at the closed door for a few minutes before going back to his makeup. This kind of boss is going to take some getting used to.
Angel meets Mimzy outside of his room five minutes later, mumbling another thanks when she compliments his makeup again. “We have a ton of wigs too, I’m not sure if that’s something that interests you.” She comments, leading him back the way he came in when he arrived yesterday.
“Yeah sometimes. Val doesn’t really like it when I dress in drag though.” Angel mumbles.
“Good thing he ain’t here then, hm?” Mimzy winks at him and he smiles back, that comment lightening something in his chest.
Instead of bringing him back to the foyer he was in yesterday, she brings him to a hallway to the left. They walk through the hallway, Mimzy pointing out rooms and explaining what they are. They pass by a kitchen, a few bathrooms, a laundry room, and more than a few sleeping quarters. At the end of the hallway, which seems way too short to accommodate all the rooms, there are two large gold doors. “Usually these are open so that guests don’t go snoopin’ around but since we aren’t open right now, we close ‘em,” Mimzy explains, pushing the doors open.
For some reason, Angel was expecting the doors to make a loud creak or noise of some sort but they surprisingly opened silently which proved to be an incredibly anti-climatic introduction to the breathtaking room beyond. Almost everything is sparkling in a way that makes it seem like a dream. It’s obvious that the room is meant to be seen at a low light but it’s gorgeous all the same with the big lights on. There are a few small tables scattered around the floor with up to four chairs crowded around them. All the chairs are turned to face the stage.
The stage itself is beautiful. The floor is wood so dark it’s almost black, it’s framed by two blood-red curtains and there are a few random musical instruments scattered around the stage. Workers bustle around the floor, mopping and picking up trash. There’s also a bar directly opposite of the stage which looks to be stocked with every alcohol Angel has ever heard of as well as a few he hasn’t.
“This is where you’ll be the majority of the time. Even if ya aren’t performin’ sometimes it’s nice to watch the other girls.” Mimzy says, her heels clicking on the floor as she makes her way over to the stage. Even with the added inch or two that the heels provide, she’s only up to Angel’s waist. Despite her lack of height, Angel actually finds her a bit intimidating. She radiates an aura of confidence that Angel doesn’t usually see. “The stage is waxed almost every night so be careful, it can get real slippery.”
“Noted.” Angel smiles, running his hand over the stage, and sure enough, it’s smooth.
She brings him through the rest of the club, a lot of relatively unimportant rooms and hallways before they return to his room. Right before he goes inside Mimzy stops him. “How does tomorrow night sound for your first performance?” She asks, tapping her fingers on the clipboard that always seems to be in either her hands or Rowen’s.
“Sounds good to me.” He nods, actually excited about performing for the first time since the beginning of his ‘career’.
“Awesome, if you could be a doll and write up a set list. At least four songs, more if you want to sing more but four is the minimum.” She bids him a goodnight and Angel rushes into his room, pulling out his Hellphone. He starts looking up songs from around when he died, as well as a few before and after. By the time he collapses into bed, he has four songs written down and placed neatly on his vanity. He would’ve written more but for his first performance, he wanted it to be perfect and four songs are easier to practice than seven. He drifts off to sleep, the excitement of a new day coursing through his veins again after so long.