Neon Lights and Cheap Whiskey

~SIENNA POV~

“Enna!” Cleo’s shout sliced right through the bone-rattling bass pounding from the speakers of VÉRTIGO Nightclub.

I did not need to look up from the ice well to recognize that voice. Only one person on this side of London called me by that nickname. I slid a finished cocktail across the damp mahogany counter anyway, glancing up beneath the ultraviolet lights. Cleo strutted past the beer taps with a sway in her hips and a grin that spelled trouble. Her blonde hair glowed neon pink under the strobe sweeps, her lips painted with fresh gloss. She walked like she owned the entire venue, completely unbothered by the chaos around her.

Before I could ask what she had done this time, the customer directly in front of me leaned over the brass rail. He smelled of stale whiskey and mint gum, his dress shirt unbuttoned two buttons too low. His gaze dropped straight down the neckline of my uniform, lingering without an ounce of shame.

He drawled, puffing out his chest with an absurdly proud smirk: “I could take you outta here. No more slinging drinks. Just me. You. Shiny things.”

I picked up a damp rag and wiped a dry circle on the counter. “Not interested. Thank you.”

I did not wait around to watch his ego deflate. Turning my back, I found Cleo waiting behind the station, holding a folded scrap of paper between two manicured fingers.

Cleo tapped the paper against my chest with a wink. “Another love note. From Mr. Tall, Dark, and Probably Toxic at the VIP table.”

I tossed the folded note onto the back counter by the rum bottles without reading a single word. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re my best friend, not my girlfriend.”

Cleo clutched her chest in an exaggerated display of tragedy. “Tragic. Rejected again.”

Her dramatic pout vanished the moment she grabbed a loaded service tray and thrust it into my arms. The glassware rattled against each other, amber and clear liquor sloshing dangerously near the rims.

Cleo announced, heading straight toward the staff gate: “I need the ladies' room. Or maybe the men’s. Floor delivery is all yours, babe.”

She slipped into the darkness of the hall before I could push the heavy tray back into her hands.

I turned down the bar line, where Kellan was shaking a silver mixer with effortless rhythm. His tailored vest had zero creases, his dark hair styled to perfection. He was attractive enough to keep the female patrons tipping twenty-pound notes, and openly uninterested enough to leave them disappointed every single time.

I called out over the roar of the music: “Kellan, cover me for two minutes.”

Kellan paused his shaking and flashed a roguish grin. “What’s in it for me, sweet cheeks?”

“A back-alley makeout.” I answered flatly.

Kellan recoiled with a loud groan, placing his palm flat against his forehead. “As if. Standards, babe.”

“Right. Keep dreaming.” I muttered under my breath, lifting the tray high above my shoulder.

I pushed through the swing gate into the humid chaos of the dance floor. The heat hit me instantly, thick with artificial fog, spilled spirits, and warm skin. The bass rattled in my ribcage as hundreds of bodies moved together under the hypnotic sweep of the strobes. I tucked my free elbow in, sliding through the narrow gaps between dancing couples. A sweaty shoulder bumped my arm, but my grip remained steady. Months of working the London club circuit had trained my hands and feet well.

The order was destined for a low booth tucked in the corner. Four young guys sat there, barely old enough to drink, waving gold watches around like trophies. I dropped the glassware onto the sticky table, picked up the cash, and walked away before any of them could try a line on me.

Cutting back through the crowd, the sensory overload settled into a familiar hum. Despite the madness, I loved this job. London nightlife was an unruly beast, loud and lawless, and inside it I felt untethered, anonymous, and untouchable. Back in Mijas, every neighbor knew my name, my family, and my business. In Spain, expectations weighed down every step. Here, lost in a room full of strangers who would forget my face by morning, I was free.

Yet during the brief lulls between tracks, homesickness still managed to catch me off guard. A sudden cold ache would strike my chest, sharp and persistent. I missed the sun-bleached hills of Andalusia. I missed the scent of jasmine blooming along white plaster walls, the warm terracotta tiles under bare feet, and the comforting clatter of my mother’s kitchen. I was thousands of miles away from everything familiar.

Cleo was the only piece of home I had left. We had grown up side by side on those dusty Spanish streets, sharing secrets, scraped knees, and dreams of running away. She was the fire to my earth. Cleo dove headfirst into chaos, while I kept us from drowning in it. She was the one tether keeping me grounded in this endless city.

Cleo shouted, snapping her manicured fingers right in front of my nose: “Hello? Earth to main character?”

I blinked, realizing I had returned behind the counter and was staring blankly at the ice well.

“Sorry, I zoned out for a second.” I murmured, shaking my head to clear the cobwebs.

Cleo rolled her eyes and leaned across the rail. “You do that too much. You need a drink, or a man, or both.”

Before she could launch into her usual lecture, Kellan slammed a clean pint glass onto the drying rack.

Kellan shouted, raising a clean glass in the air: “Closing time countdown, babies. Two more hours!”

Two more hours. Two hours of wiping sticky surfaces, dodging grabby hands, and listening to basslines rattle my skull. Then I could peel off these clothes, fall into my bed, and sink into silence.

Yet right beneath the neon glare, a sudden shiver ran down the back of my neck.

An old Spanish proverb my abuela used to whisper by the hearth rose unbidden to the front of my mind: *“Cuando el alma se inquieta, algo viene detrás.”*

When the soul feels restless, something is on its way.

I rubbed my bare forearms, trying to banish the chill, but the skin stayed pebbled with goosebumps. The club around me felt altered, the pulsing lights suddenly harsh, the laughter distant. A heavy dread pooled low in my gut, dark and suffocating.

My soul was restless. I just had no idea what was waiting for me out in the dark.