Rubi Jones
February 2nd, 2018 - 10:14am
❦
Buzz...Buzz...Buzz
"Shut the fuck up".
Buzz...Buzz...Buzz
"Shut the fuck uuuppp!" I groaned, tossing my covers over my head as my brick of a cellphone vibrated loudly against my wooden nightstand. I whipped the covers off of me with a sigh, twisting my body so that my feet hung off the edge of my bed. I rubbed my eyes as the phone bounced around my nightstand, moving with each ring. Flipping the phone open with my eyes half closed, I wrapped myself in the soft, feathery comforter.
"Hello?" I grumbled.
"Good morning stranger."
My eyes widened at the familiar British accent. No fucking way.
"Who is this?" I snapped, keeping my guard up. I normally never answer random phone calls. I'm always sure to be careful whenever I lend someone my number on my burner, but the fine motor area of my brain that included thinking was not active at this time of the morning.
"Who do you think it is?"
"I don't know. But I'm really hoping it's the news channel calling to tell me that I won the lottery," I joked, while yawning and stretching my free arm high above my head.
"Well sweetheart, if I'm being honest, I think me giving you a call is way better than winning the lottery".
"How humble of you". I rested the phone between my ear and shoulder, finally standing up and letting out a groan as I stretched out my tired legs.
"Was that for me?"
"Huh?"
"You just moaned into the telephone. I assumed it was for me". I rolled my eyes, making my way towards the kitchenette of my apartment.
"How the fuck did you get this number birthday boy?" I asked snidely, ignoring his comment.
"I know people."
By people, he meant Louis.
"Why are you calling me anyway? It's fucking early."
"Well stranger, I'm not quite sure of your sleep schedule yet so I thought I'd take a gamble. Maybe see if you wanted to grab lunch."
This guy is fucking odd.
"As much as I would love to stare at your gorgeous face for an hour until my food becomes cold and inedible, I can't."
He put on a fake pouty voice. "Why not Red? Didn't we have such an amazing time last night?"
I wasn't sure if he was referring to our steamy exchange in the back of the club, or the single shot he took with me after blatantly telling me that he wanted to fuck me.
"I have work."
"And when is that?"
"I leave my apartment at 3:30"
"So...you'll be in uniform?"
"Watch it, Styles."
"I'll be there. Plus I heard that tonight is disco night. Wouldn't wanna miss that!" he crooned, chuckling to himself. He was right. It is disco night. And the club is going to be fucking packed.
"Alright. Let's make this interesting then," I hesitated for a moment before finishing my thought.
"If you show up tonight, I need you in the sluttiest, whorish outfit you own. You know, so that you stand out. I wanna be able pick you out like a needle in a haystack. If you do, I'll make sure all of your hard work was worth it." I purred, grabbing a lock of my hair and twirling it as if he could see me. He let out a sharp exhale through his nose.
"I don't do slutty clothes baby".
"Well I do. And you don't wanna feel left out, do ya'?" I smirked to myself. He paused for a moment and scoffed before answering.
"Fine. You win this time, stranger. I'll see you tonight."
The phone clicked as the line went dead. Hm. Now I know how easy it is to make the most famous man in the world right now put on a show for me. I snapped my phone shut and placed it on the counter, pondering my morning over a pot of instant coffee.
How does one out-slut a man whore?
How do I make him dance for me?
Since I now knew how simple it was to flirt my way into a stupid, made up dress-up contest, how much simpler can it get? And how do take his cocky attitude down a few notches?
Harry is a rock artist for fucks sake. I'm sure there's dirt on him on the Internet. If I wanted to get into his head, I had to do my research.
~
I walked down the crowded streets of East Village. My oversized Fruit of the Loom hoodie zipped up to my neck, the hood thrown over my head, practically covering my eyes. It was too fucking cold. I looked down at my feet as I walked quickly, keeping my hands in my pockets. I had decided to head over to the Tompkins Square Library, since it was the closest place with accessible computers.
My fingers mindlessly fiddled around with the preroll that was buried deep in my hoodie pocket as I walked into the arched doorway of the stone building. I took my hood off out of courtesy. I didn't want a sweet old librarian to think I was about to rob them blind of all of their precious books.
The air in the library was warm. I could smell the pages of old books mixed with the dust that topped their shelves. I sniffled as said dust reached my nose.
I lapped through the seemingly never-ending shelves and made my way to the computer area. I spotted a free one, sitting down on the flimsy plastic chair in front of it. I crackled my knuckles as the computer loaded and typed the two magic words into the search engine.
Harry Styles.
Immediately, over 500,000 results popped up. Holy shit.
It was mostly basic information. Stuff any average fan would know off of the top of their heads. His birthday, his height, an article about his favorite songs. Boring.
I kept scrolling. Wiki pages, pictures of him taken onstage, as well as multiple editorial shoots done by Rolling Stone Magazine. Wow, he's a model too. Not at all shocking.
I scrolled and scrolled until I saw an article that caught my eye.
"The World's Most Appealing Young Rockstar: Harry Styles." Bingo!
I clicked the link, promptly faced with a paparazzi photo of Harry leaving a luxurious hotel here in New York. He was wearing a black silk button down, similar to the one he wore last night. His chest was exposed as the hem of his shirt blew behind him in the wind. One of his tattooed arms was pointing towards the sky, and the other was slung lazily around the shoulders of a girl. The girl was dressed in all black. She had long brown hair that was blowing in the wind behind her. One of her hands was covering her face, her manicured fingers knit closely together so that you couldn't make out her features. I rested my hand on my chin and scrolled down to the rest of the article.
"The 23 year old superstar is spotted with a new woman by his side quite often. But what about him is so appealing to these young girls that throw themselves at him, begging for a chance to share his bed at night?" Ah yes, someone using their free time wisely to spew petty comments at the someone who doesn't know of their existence. That's my kind of person.
I kept reading the article. It was mostly about how hot he is, which was painfully obvious. They described in detail how good he was at guitar. They also explained the appeal in his shoulder-length curls.
The same curls I had my fingers running through last night.
But as the article gabbed on about his looks and sultry singing voice, I noticed an interesting sentence.
"The girls that are lucky enough to be spotted out with young Styles are never around for more than an evening. He has also never been seen tied down in a relationship. Well, a public one, at least."
I scratched my head. A new girl every night? Jesus. I knew he liked to fuck around, but I didn't know it was with a fresh face every night. Either this man is super safe, or he has just about every disease in the high school health class textbook.
I took a moment to piece things together. Maybe the author of this teen gossip article has a point. Why do these girls throw themselves at him? He's never been in a public relationship, so they know deep down that they don't have a shot at romance with a dreamy rockstar. Do they realize that they're gonna be kicked to the curb and used as an object?
I answered my own damn question.
They do know that. That's the point.
Their goal in life is to play house with a sexy young rock artist for a night. They don't care about the music, they care about having a story to tell their friends. A story to tell for decades to their future children. Trust me, I understand the appeal. But would I sell myself short for a one night stand with five seconds of fame included in the deal? Hell fucking no. I had to rise above the low self-esteems of the women he is so comfortably worshipped by. I had to out-do the doer.
~
7:30pm
"Ru, what the hell are you wearing? Are you fucking around with me?" I stood in front of the greying Italian man. His eyes darting back and forth between the various articles of clothing that covered my body as he held his hands palms down onto his desk.
"A customer wanted me to play a little dress-up. But don't you worry that pretty head of yours, I'll be fine. Plus, in an outfit like this, I'll get so many tips." Giovanni sighed, making a gun with his fingers and pretending to shoot himself in the temple.
"You drive me nuts, Ru. You drive me fuckin' nuts." His thick Brooklyn accent rang through my ears. But all I could do was smile at him. Despite him wanting to bash his head into a wall because of my outfit, it was obvious that he cared for me.
"At leased I followed the dress code, right?"
I was dressed head to toe in black. I had on a bell-sleeve top with a neckline that dipped down to the middle of my chest. The center of the shirt was tied into a neat bow. My midriff was exposed, stopping after my bejewelled bellybutton. I had on black, sheer bellbottoms that were decorated with rhinestones. And on my feet; platform disco shoes.
"Disco night!" I cheered softly, mixing in a sarcastic tone and throwing up jazz hands. Gio rolled his eyes with a smile, shooing me away with his fingers. I turned on my heel out of his office, whistling Night Fever by the Bee Gees softly to myself as I made my way down the steps. I heard Gio chuckle from behind me.
When I made my way down to the dance floor, I noticed that the bar girls had begun to put up decorations in preparation for disco night. There were 3 gigantic disco balls that had been lowered from the ceiling, shining intricate patterns on the floors and walls. The wall behind the dance floor was delicately draped in plastic tinsel that reflected a rainbow off of the dance floor lights. Each table that accompanied the couches was adorned with disco-ball-eqsue centrepieces. Giggles filled the room as the girls joked around, tossing the faux disco balls back and fourth to each other. I smiled to myself while admiring their work.
"Great job ladies!" I shouted, "Need help with anything?"
A sea of elated 'no's and 'no thank you's was heard from the groups of giggling girls as I walked past them.
"Oh my god, Rubi! Your outfit! It's everything!" Faith shouted. I blushed, waving my hand at her as she craned her neck to watch me walk by.
"Aww, Faithy. You're making me blush," I cooed.
Faith was the friendliest bar girl. At least to me. Her and I had developed a friendship over the time we had both been working here. We bonded over being the longest-standing employees, since Gio had been frequently interchanging the staff ever since we began working for him.
I made my way into the bathroom, gently pushing on the wooden doors as I stepped in front of the mirror. Tonight's nightly mirror check was a little different. Having already put on my mask for the night, I decided to see where it took me. I looked at myself deeply, fiddling with the rings on my fingers.
I'm about to be face to face with one of the cockiest, most arrogant men in the world right now. If he wanted a piece of me, he's gonna have to work for it.
~
10:30pm
The club was packed to the brim, flooding with people. Bodies danced close together carelessly, filling up every inch of the dance floor. It was a typical Disco Night, that's for sure. Disco Night, to me, always felt like some sort of fever dream. The disco balls alone made it feel like I was tripping on something. The way the light bounced and strobed off of people's faces made it easy to get distracted. But I couldn't get distracted. I was on a mission.
People came and went from the bar. Ordering their sweet little drinks, doing lines of coke off of the glazed wooden countertop. I made sure to pay attention to the door though. If Harry were to walk in, I wouldn't want to miss the commotion due to his arrival.
"Rubi! I need two Sex on The Beaches!" Joseph was feverishly pouring shots of tequila as he yelled, his eyes not leaving the shots. I gave him a quick thumbs up and started on the drinks. As I shook up the fruity concoction, I heard a squeal of a woman from across the bar. My head snapped around towards the door as I continued to shake.
My eyes landed on quite the sight. It was Harry, dressed in a black chiffon button-down that was completely see-through. So much so that the butterfly tattoo on his abdomen, along with his many other tattoos, were entirely visible. He had on the usual black jeans, which was disappointing, but I guess Harry is just a creature of habit. People immediately began to swarm him as he stepped over the threshold.
I poured the drinks from out of the shaker, concentrating on not spilling them, but also keeping an ear peeled for a snarky nickname or remark. As I passed the drinks off to Joseph, I looked over at the growing mob of women dressed in flashy disco-esque outfits. Harry's face was visible above the crowd as he kept on his usual stern expression. I stared at him, hoping he would feel my eyes burning into the side of his head. To my surprise, he actually looked over.
He raised his eyebrows and gave me a slight nod. God, this guy was so fucking hard to read. Does he ever smile?
Yeah he does, when he's high out of his mind and about to get a birthday kiss from a stranger.
My eyes followed him as him and the congregation of girls walked towards one of the free areas on the couch. He sat down, comfortably spreading his legs out as girls dreamily fluttered down to his sides, admiring him, and not saying a word. He was so enigmatic, especially in situations like this. How does he end up with a different girl every night without even saying a single thing?
I turned over to Joseph, who had a moment to rest after most of the customers at the bar migrated to the dance floor. The disco music was blaring, as Joseph stood with his back against the side entrance of the counter.
"Joey, I'm gonna take a quick break. Are you gonna be good here?" He let out a deep breath and nodded, flashing a half-assed thumbs up. I nodded back in conformation while stepping beside him to leave the bar.
As I walked across the room, I walked in time with the upbeat music. I made sure my hips swayed with each step. I wanted to see if grabbing Harry's attention was similar to charming a snake.
I sauntered past his area of the couch, turning my head towards him so that I could shoot him a quick glance. He had a cigarette between his lips as his eyes met mine. The girls around him were talking amongst themselves as he sat in silence, surveying me. I looked away, and continued to walk towards the back area of the club.
The entire club was smoker friendly, but I normally take any breaks, smoking or not, in the back bathroom or in the vestibule that leads to the back door. Once I made my way to the back of the club, I gently pushed on the door. But before I could walk through, the door flew open without me even touching it. I looked up and saw a large, ring-clad hand holding the wood, a lit cigarette resting between pointer and middle finger. I stopped in my tracks and felt a body from behind me bump into me.
I felt a warm breeze on my neck.
"Where you headed, Red?"
Showtime.
"None of your business rockstar, I'm on the clock." Harry was standing behind me, and looming over my shoulder. I could feel his chest rising as he breathed in deeply.
"Smoke break?"
"Well, it started off as a normal break. But if you're offering..." I trailed off as I spun my body around so that we were chest to torso. I peered up at him as he gazed down at me. His pupils were dilated and glossy, and his hand still rested on the door, holding it open with the lit cigarette between his fingers. I turned my head as my eyes moved to the cigarette.
"Oh! A cigarette! And you already lit it for me. How sweet." I exclaimed, as I reached up to his hand and plucked the burning stick from his fingers. His eyes were still dead set on my face, following my every movement, as I brought the cigarette up to my mouth and took a drag. He licked his lips and moved forward, sending me stumbling back a few steps. I examined the cigarette between my fingers. The door closed gently behind him as he inched me back further.
"You know that was mine, right?" He rasped, still shooting daggers at me with those sharp green eyes.
"Sharing is caring," I gleamed through a girlish smile. The smoke lifted off of the cigarette and filled the area between us. We were still standing chest to torso.
"You really don't talk much, do you Styles?"
He let out a dry chuckle, flicking his bottom lip with his thumb. "I'm talking to you now, aren't I?"
I shrugged, taking another drag from his cigarette. He looked me up and down, as I did the same. My eyes landed on his feet. He had on silver glittery Chelsea boots.
"I see you followed through with my dress-up game". He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"Thought it would be fun," he murmured through a frog in his throat. His breathing was heavy and hitched. I could practically feel his heart beating through his chest.
"I can tell you're enjoying the shit I gave you." I cocked my head to the side, looking at him dreamily. I wanted him to think that I was giving in to his sensual mind games. He blinked slowly, gently shaking his head.
"The experience is a lot better when you have a pretty face to look at, Red."
I backed away from him so that we were no longer pressing against each other. But as I did, he snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me back in. I let out a sharp exhale, still giving him that dreamy gaze. The lights from the dance floor were creating a multicoloured glow around his frame. He leaned down towards me, our noses practically touching. I returned the favor, wrapping my arms around his neck so that we were completely intertwined. He dipped his head towards the crook of my neck, placing a gentle kiss on my collarbone. I moaned softly as he trailed kisses from my collarbone to just below my jaw. I began to tangle my free fingers in his hair, running through it slowly. The other hand was still holding the cigarette. He shivered as he made his way to my lips, biting down softly on my lower lip.
I pulled away, watching his eyes flutter open.
"Did you think it was gonna be that easy?"
"Hm?" He hummed, still inches away from my nose.
"At least take me out to dinner first, rockstar."
❦
WHATS GONNA HAPPEN NEXT OOOOOOOO