Gwendolyn Morris worked at a large pharmacy situated near the bustling business district. Even though the street across was teeming with cars, customers were sparse by nine in the evening. At ten o'clock sharp, Gwendolyn clocked out. She switched off the lights, locked up, and headed to her scooter parked nearby, dialing Joey Davis on her phone as she walked.
Headlights from passing cars occasionally lit her way. It was that time of year when the temperature swung significantly from day to night, and the evening breeze was brisk. Gwendolyn wore the pharmacy’s standard blue scrubs beneath a black down jacket, her hair neatly tied in a bun, as per the store’s dress code.
Her phone emitted an automated message: "The number you have dialed is currently unavailable." Gwendolyn's elegant brows furrowed. She tried calling again twice, still no answer. Joey, who had worked an early shift today, should have been home by now. He'd recently started an Instagram account and often tinkered with it in their rented apartment after work. It was likely he wasn't answering because he was still busy selling drinks at the club.
Putting her phone away in her jacket pocket, Gwendolyn hopped on her scooter, donned her helmet, and merged into the traffic.
Inside the club’s private room, Joey was working with a rather agreeable client for the first time. He had managed to sell over a dozen bottles of alcohol, each priced above a thousand dollars, with some costing five figures—promising a hefty commission. Joey roughly estimated he could earn five to six thousand dollars tonight.
The dozen or so guests were animatedly engaged, clearly enjoying themselves. Yet one man sat alone, quietly nursing his drink in the dimmest corner of the room, disconnected from the festivities. While focusing on his client, Joey couldn't resist stealing glances at this solitary figure. With the dim lighting, Joey couldn't discern his face, yet something about him seemed oddly familiar.
A striking woman with a bob cut beckoned Joey. "Hey, handsome, come over here and tell me about the bottle next to you. If you impress me, I’ll take ten." The bottle was over a thousand dollars. Joey felt a thrill at the prospect of such a sale. It was indeed a night for witnessing the extravagance of wealth.
He quickly grabbed the bottle, crouched next to the woman, and began his pitch. After barely two sentences, she teasingly lifted his chin with her finger, remarking, "Up close, aren't you the same guy Mariana Griffin couldn’t snag? I heard the night she took you home, you called your girlfriend to pick you up from the Griffin estate. You’ve got guts, kid."
A man nearby sneered, "Guts? More like clueless. He had it easy and didn’t even know it." The woman laughed, "You don't get it. This is like straight out of a romance novel, pure drama."
Joey frowned and gently pushed the woman's hand away.
Chandler Hunter turned his gaze from Joey, making his way to the lone man sitting deep in the recesses of the private room. The laughter and chatter seemed detached from Marco Griffin, who was lounging on the couch, deep in thought. Chandler lit a cigarette for Marco and sat beside him. "What’s on your mind? You threw this party but are just brooding here?"
Marco replied nonchalantly, "Watching you all have fun is entertainment enough for me."
He wore silver-framed glasses with a silver-white shirt, the top two buttons undone, revealing a hint of his collarbone. Combined with his strikingly handsome face, he was alluring. He inhaled deeply, lounging back and staring at the soft glow of the ceiling light. Images of Gwendolyn’s face flitted through his mind as smoke curled from his lips. He wondered how she'd react if he blew smoke in her face. Would her meticulously composed demeanor crack?
Chandler nudged Marco, asking, "What’s got you lost in thought? That expression..." He paused, then muttered, "Like a predator sizing up prey." He glanced at Joey, who was tidying up the remaining bottles, ready to leave. Chandler chuckled, noticing, "Quite stubborn, isn’t he? A few jokes and he’s ready to walk out. Marco, I must admit, your sister knows how to pick them."
Marco didn’t respond to Chandler, his attention fixed on Joey. As Joey carried the drink basket out the door, a colleague’s voice reached them: "Hey, Joey, your girlfriend’s here to pick you up. Lucky guy, she’s..."
The door closed, cutting off the rest of the comment. Marco stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, tossed on his jacket, and headed out.
Chandler stood up, calling, "Heading home already?"
Others in the room turned their attention to Marco as he left.
Without looking back, Marco waved to Chandler, "Enjoy your night; drinks on me."
The room erupted in cheers while Chandler hurried to catch up with Marco.
"I’ll join you."
Gwendolyn was seated in the club’s lobby area, looking up to see Joey approaching. She rose with a smile, meeting him halfway. Joey brushed her cheek gently. “Didn’t I tell you? It’s too cold on the roads; you might catch a cold on your scooter. Don’t come to pick me up next time. I can take the subway home.”
Gwendolyn held his hand, asking, "Drank much?"
Joey nodded, "A bit, had to for the clients, but not much—just a glass."
She felt a twinge of concern. Joey’s stomach wasn't great with alcohol, and drinking without eating wasn't wise. She pulled a warm sandwich from her pocket, wrapped carefully, and offered it to Joey. "Bought this on the way here. Kept it warm in my pocket. It’ll help with your stomach. Can we eat here, or should we step outside?"
Joey took a big bite directly from her hand. "No worries, a couple bites and it’s gone."
Holding Gwendolyn’s hand, he finished most of the sandwich in just a couple of bites.
She teased, "Skipped dinner again?"
Joey swallowed his last bite, chuckling sheepishly while pulling her into a hug. “Too busy, lost track of time.”
Gwendolyn looked up from his embrace, pretending to be stern. Joey quickly promised, "Next time, I’ll eat on time."
She poked him lightly in the chest, admonishing him, "Take care of your stomach."
Joey draped an arm over her shoulder, guiding her out. "Got it, let’s head home."
Unnoticed, Marco watched them leave, his expression darkening.
In the car, Chandler glanced at Marco in the back seat. "Didn’t you load up a hundred grand at the club just last year? Already burned through it? You’re too generous, topping up yourself like that."
Marco ignored Chandler, his focus on the scooter ahead—Gwendolyn hugging Joey tightly.
The club was in the city center, and even at nearly eleven at night, the traffic was still heavy. As the car approached Gwendolyn and Joey, Marco fixed his gaze on them and coldly instructed the driver, "Hit them."
