What am I meant to do about Brooklyn? I'm falling for a girl that I can't be truthful with.
I enter the living room, and walk over to where Aiden and Rhys are sitting.
"How’s the new girl getting on?" I ask, wanting to distract myself from my biggest worry, those problems will be there for a while yet.
"Good, Jade enjoys learning." The smile on Rhys's face tells me enough. "Another week, she’ll be ready to go."
I chuckle; she's more than ready now. He just wants to keep her untouched, for himself, a little longer. I give him a nod, letting him know I’m not stopping him.
"Atlas," I look to my side and see Beth walking over with a handful of files, "A group of girls were wondering if they can all have the night off to celebrate a birthday." Beth stands in front of me, and I stare in reply.
I’m not sure when she forgot that this club needs girls, so if they all go, who is keeping the guests happy?
“Even the girls need a night off-”
"I'm not saying they can't have a night off. The staff get more holidays working here than anywhere else; don't try to make me feel guilty for saying no." I cut her off.
All my staff gets almost four months’ holiday, and extra personal time, if they need it. Last year, one of the guys worked four months, had his four months holiday, and then had four months personal time. He needed to be with his family, and I told him to be with them. Yet I paid him his full wages.
“Atlas-”
“Are you going to work when they’re out?” I snap back at her.
Beth and Aiden both look at me, as I wait for her to answer my question. We all know that there is no way in hell I will let her work again; I got her out of that life, I'm not going to throw her back into it.
"How many girls want to go?" Aiden asks, and I ignore them both and put my attention to my phone to work through some emails. I know that Aiden is going to work around it and see what he can do.
I'd be able to work it out for them, too, but it takes a lot of work to make sure that none of them has a guest. Will they be back in time if they do have a guest in the morning? Then I’d have to go to the trouble of talking to the guest to make sure they are happy if I give them a different girl; it’s too much work for me to focus on right now.
"Atlas!" Aiden shouts my name, pulling my attention away from my phone. "I said, if I can make it work, can they go out?"
I look behind him at Brooklyn, walking over to us, she looks beautiful.
“Do what you want,” I say as I walk over to Brooklyn.
As I stand in front of her, I look down at her, bring my lips to hers, and give her a kiss. She rests her hands on my chest as I wrap my arms around her, wanting to keep her close to me.
I pull away from her a little, “You look beautiful,” I say in a whisper against her lips. “Ready to go?”
“Where are we going?” Brooklyn asks as she looks over my shoulder at the guys talking; they’re talking loud enough to make sure I know Aiden is going to give the girls their night off. I’m not stopping him, I just don’t want the fucking headache of doing it.
“It’s a surprise,” I tell her, ignoring the conversation behind me. We leave through the kitchen doors, which takes us closer to the garage; it means I don’t have to take Brooklyn through the front of the house.
When I thought of bringing Brooklyn to the Art Museum, I thought once we got here, we would be in and out in an hour. But, no. Three hours and we’re still here.
I look over at Brooklyn as she looks at another painting. I want her to know that I trust her, and not worried about her leaving me. That might be the biggest lie I’ve told myself in a long time. I’m so scared that one day she will leave, and I won’t be able to find her, the thought makes me sick, and I quickly shake that thought away. But I remember Brooklyn saying that I’ve not given her the chance to prove she won’t leave, and she is right. So I’ve given her some space: if she wants to run she has the chance; if she wants to talk to someone to ask them for help she can. I can still see her from where I’m sitting, I can only hope and pray that she doesn’t leave me.
She looks over her shoulder at me sitting on the bench just behind her. I give her a smile to let her know that I’m still here. I move my attention away from Brooklyn, to the couple who have just walked past me, before I could even see them I hear them, as the woman’s heels click on the marble floor. I have no idea how the receptionist sits here all day hearing the sound of clicking heels; I’ve been here three hours and it’s giving me a headache.
Brooklyn has been looking at one painting for a while now, and this is the first time I’ve seen her smile this much. There’s one painting she can’t seem to walk away from. I will bring Brooklyn here every week, to see her happy.
When we first got here I walked around with her and she asked me what I saw in the paintings; I tried hard to look and see what she saw but I didn’t. One of my answers for a painting was it has a lot of color, Brooklyn couldn’t stop laughing. She knew I had no idea what I was looking at.
To me, all the paintings look the same; half of them look like someone has just flicked a paint brush on a blank canvas. But, Brooklyn hasn’t stopped smiling since we got here. So, I will stare at these paintings for another four hours if it means I get to see her smile.
Brooklyn picks up a catalogue and starts looking through it’; I’ve noticed that some of the paintings are for sale and there’s one she keeps looking at. If it’s for sale, I’m buying it.
I walk over to her as I look at some of the large paintings. The owner of this building is a smart person, they’ve made sure the walls are bright white, that the floor is white marble, and they’ve used a glass ceiling; it directs the attention entirely to the painting. Smart.
As I reach Brooklyn, I kiss the back of her neck, and move my hand to her waist. “You hungry?”
She puts the booklet down and turns to face me. “I am.”
“Let’s get some food in you,” giving her a kiss, then I pick up the booklet and head out. Brooklyn enjoys the art world, and I know nothing about it; maybe this booklet will help me understand it a little better.
As we get out on the street, which is now a lot busier than when we first got here. Brooklyn watches the people around us as we walk to the restaurant: families, couples taking pictures, a couple who look like they’re in the middle of a fight, but Brooklyn watches them all. I pull her closer to me; she might not notice the men looking at her, but I do and I don’t like it.
“I’m not going to run,” Brooklyn looks up at me.
“I know. I don’t like men looking at what’s mine. Only I can look at you,” she leans into me and starts laughing.
We stop in front of the restaurant, I called them, earlier to book a table. We follow the waiter through the crowded restaurant, I asked to be sat by the window in a booth so we could have seclusion. As we’re seated, we place our drinks orders. I ordered our courses when I made the booking; I showed Brooklyn the menu of my phone, so that she could tell me what she wanted, so that I would order in advance. I didn't want to wait too long to eat.
I lean back in my chair and watch Brooklyn as she looks out of the window, people-watching; she’s been doing that a lot today.