Loud music boomed from the overhead speakers in the club as the cooling vents cooled off sweat from people's bodies who were either grinding hard to the beat or showing off their dance moves.

At the bar, the waitresses were serving drinks to the men and their partners seated, listening and nodding their heads appreciatively to the live band that was performing.

The hotel rooms were booked fully for the night. Such that the receptionist had to turn down most offers for payment as more and more party goers trooped into the arena. All hands were on deck including Nengi's because the work was too tedious to lazy around.

Fumn blew out a frustrated breath. A male customer that she'd attended to countless number of times couldn't decide which alcoholic drink he wanted to purchase. He kept on looking at the menu and scratching his thin beard.

Fumn had asked him if he would prefer dry gin or creamy liquid but he shrugged replying that he didn't have a particular taste in mind. So, Fumn abandoned him for Nengi and moved on to attend to other customers who were calling for her attention.

The regular section of the club was jam packed and teeming with life. Those who were seated with their babes sneakily made out on the couch while those who came alone drank from their glasses silently and watched the others sashay to the beat.

The club workers had been instructed by Ebitimi to write the customer's orders in a small notebook, deliver them, record it in the account book and then ask for their method of payment without delay to avoid error. Ebitimi had told them of a waitress who worked formerly at the club and wasn't so sharp in her dealings.

During a Friday night party, some guys who drank to their heart's content quickly bolted for the exit because they had no money to pay. The management accused the waitress of not watching them closely, she had to pay for the drinks in their stead. Fumn pitied the girl on hearing the story Ebitimi relayed.

It urged Fumn to be alert because there were guys who came to party just to have their fun, steal and bolt for the door. Fumn wiped the surface of a mahogany table and placed a bottle of black label with crown berry juice in front of a male customer who was patting his pocket for cash.

A group of rich old men with exquisite taste in clothing entered into the club and headed up the stairs to the VIP lounge.

They were headed by none other than the director himself. He had a girl Fumn recognized as the pimp glued to his arm. She'd been to the club a couple of times since she began working and brought a lot of girls along with her. Those were the ones men would toy with and take to their hotel rooms if they so wished. It was quick business for them.

The director clad in a denim jean and a polo shirt that showed off his muscular arm, leaned in to whisper something in the girl's ear and she giggled excitedly. Fumn became breathy all of a sudden imagining it was her.

Just seeing the director had her nerves jumbled. Fumn retreated to her cubicle with shaky legs. She plopped down on a chair and paused to catch her breath. Exhaustion from standing for so long taking orders was slowly creeping into her body. The cooling vents blew cold air directly to Fumn's face causing her to rub her arms in an attempt to ward off the effects.

Fumn was having goosebumps. She remembered Erica telling them that someone would be called in to attend to the director and his friends. Fumn was wondering who that would be. She heard a clash coming from up the stairs which jolted her out of her reverie. It was the sound of glass chattering on the floor.

Priscilla hurried down the steps with an ice bowl. She headed straight for the kitchen and squatted to collect five spoonful of ice. Fumn and Priscilla had grown a bit distant because of how busy the work had been and they weren't so keen on switching positions. Fumn had never been to the VIP lounge before.

The only time she did was when she had been giving a tour of the place on the first day she resumed and when she needed a drink that was out of stock. But from the little she'd seen, she loved it.

Transparent glass surrounded a section of the massive place, the walls were mixture of white and cream which complemented the maroon colored couches. The air con also had more horse power according to what Ebitimi told her during the short tour.

Fumn could see why the director preferred it to the regular. Before Priscilla rushed off, Fumn exchanged pleasantries with her and asked who was going to attend to him. Since she was the one in charge of the VIP, she was supposed to know.

But Priscilla shrugged stating that she was only asked to get a bucket load of ice.

Fumn sighed disappointedly. She'd been expecting for it to be her as she was all doled up. She didn't know why but she felt a ferocious hunger for the director and that was something she had been hard to control. She knew acting on her feelings was going to cost her her job. But was it worth it?

Nengi placed her phone on the shelf and re-laced her boots. She looked like someone in a hurry to go somewhere.

"Take over from where I stopped. The director just called me in, I am going upstairs now." Nengi couldn't hide the excitement in her voice.

Fumn's mouth rounded in surprise.

"I need a bottle of scotch please," Michael stated drumming his fingertips on the marble top. Fumn was drained. She was the only one left to attend to customers in the regular. Taking orders and serving while recording in the sales book, had taken it's toll on her.

She only hoped that the cash the club gained wasn't short and no drinks went missing. Fumn heaved her tired self from her chair and took out a bottle from the fridge upon careful observation. She wasn't used to knowing drinks with their names, she had to squat and check the label on each bottle.

She poured Michael's drink in a wine glass as requested and stuffed ice in it before placing it in a tray and handing it over to him. He gratefully accepted.

Michael's once vibrant eyes looked withdrawn and there were dark circles under. He seemed to have lost some weight since the last time she saw him.

Michael was putting on an open necked shirt showing off the sparse hairs on his chest and the starlight tattoo peeking out from the base of his thick neck.

"Are you okay?" Fumn quizzed like it was any of her business.

Michael shrugged flexing his expensive Rolex watch. "And why do you care?" He stated harshly.

Fumn ignored his tone of voice. "Well, for a start, you look like hell."

Fumn got a signal from a guy at one end of the club and walked over to take his order with a ball point pen in tow. 

After serving the man his gulder beer, she plopped on a chair opposite Michael and placed both hands on her jaw. She arched a brow waiting for Michael to reply but he still kept mute.

"Do I know you?" He asked after a moment's consideration. "Cause your face looks familiar."

"Really?" Fumn was surprised. "You don't remember the girl that delivered your order at your hotel room?"

"Lots of girls here do that. Which one are you?"

Fumn bit hard on her lips, wondering what the hell was going on in Michael's head. Was it because of the makeover on her face?

Fumn cleared her throat and scratched the back of her neck nervously. "You caught me heading outside one of the hotel rooms while you were on call with my manager."

It was then Michael's brain clicked. "Ooh, so you are that girl?"

Fumn feigned ignorance. "What girl sorry?"

"Never mind." Michael relaxed more into his seat. "I am going through a bad break up. That explains why my mood is crappy."

"Ahhh," Fumn nodded understandably. "I was once on the heartbreak train but not any more," she muttered more to herself than Michael.

"What did you say?" Michael ended up asking. He chugged almost half of his drink and shuddered as the burning liquor passed through his dry throat.

"Nothing much. You planning on getting drunk tonight?" Fumn yawned tiredly earning an amused glare from Michael.

"You look like hell too."

"I get that. I have been running shift since five. So, who was the lucky girl?" Fumn airily asked, her elbows on the counter. She wasn't counting on Michael replying considering how touchy the subject was.

"I fell hopelessly in love with Priscilla. And now, she wants nothing to do with me. Think that's because of my father? Heck if I know. He gets all the attention while I sit on the back burn."

Fumn's eyes widened like saucers. "Priscilla likes your father?"