Velour

Part 1: It's an Initiation

At last, the day has arrived - I'm moving to London. It feels surreal, like a dream finally unfolding. Since I was a little girl growing up in Derby, I've felt boxed in, as if my potential was shrinking with every quiet, familiar street.
I craved more - nights and days spent wandering through the pulse of a sprawling city, where every moment hums with possibility and excitement. This is the life I always imagined.

Through months of hard work and determination, I landed myself an interview to be a music journalist for a small company called 'Echo Pulse Media', and what do you know? I got the job. Whilst it's not the highest paying job, and I won't be able to quite afford a mansion in Hampstead Heath, it's a start.

After a teary goodbye with my parents and my sisters, I load the last box into my beaten-up car and hit the motorway, my playlist blaring songs that taste like freedom.

3 hours later, and after a few trips up and down the musty apartment stairs, I finally collapse onto the creaky bed and I take a breath, gazing out at the city lights blazing against the night sky. This is it - this is the start of everything.

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Through squinted, sleepy eyes, my surroundings come into focus as the morning winter sun beams through my window. The bird's morning chatter blends with the hum of cars carrying commuters to their nine-to-fives, reminding me of one thing: today is my first day at work.

I rise from bed and dash through a battlefield of unpacked boxes, dressing in a hurry. The boxes can wait.

After a 20 minute bus ride sat next to a man who clearly has no idea what day it is, and even less understanding of my inability to socialise at 8:40 in the morning, I arrive at the office. My heart thuds as I push open the glass doors of Echo Pulse Media, the words 'First Day' screaming in neon across my brain.

"Hi!"

The voice snaps me from the thoughts. A beautiful woman with perfect curls beams at me, her smile warm and effortless."What's your name?".

"Aria," I say, my voice a little shaky. "It's lovely to meet you - I'm here for the new position."

"Olive," she grins, like the name itself was a secret joke. "Come on, I'll show you to your desk."

The day blurred into a whirlwind of emails and names I immediately forgot. Now it's hit five o'clock. I sink into my chair, a mix of relief and pride washing over me. My boss, Alex - a man who seems to radiate cheer - told me I'd done a great job and that he can't wait to see me tomorrow. Not bad for day one.

I spot Olive peeking out from behind my desk, grinning like she's up to something. She holds up her phone; pointing at an ad I can't quite read. Should've worn my glasses.

"What's that?", I ask.

"Oh, only just the biggest exclusive club in London doing a one night only event where anyone and everyone can go! We have to go. The only slight issue is that it's fifty quid to get in."

"Fifty quid? For a club? I've only worked one day - I'm broke!"

"I'll pay for you", she insists, eyes sparkling. "You need to experience the nightlife here - it's insane. People say the owner is dazzling. Like... the kind of person you don't forget. Please."

I hesitate. The logical part of me screams to go home and unpack the boxes that have been silently judging me all day, but the look in Olive's eyes suggest this isn't an invitation. It's an initiation.

"Fine," I say at last, surrendering to her grin.
"This owner better be something special."

Olive's smile curves slow and secretive.
"Oh trust me," she murmurs, "You have no idea."