Hellloooo

first chapter

HI, this was made when I was younger, don't rlly like it but yall love it so don't judge me when there's some parts where normal people would never say/do/act.

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why is that all my stories 😬 

I sighed. I fucking hate my job. Should've gone to college. I thought to myself.

I didn't go to college because I am broke. Simple. I'm broke as shit.

"Adore, we have an order on table four. Get your arse up." My manager yelled.

I groaned, putting my skates back on. I work in a place just like Hooters, except we wear skirts and skates because, in my manager's words, 'the men need more access to your arses!'

After about five more hours, my shift was done, and I was cleaning up. I'm working minimum wage. I'm not about to clean like I'm happy with this job.

No friends here.

No respectable people here.

I sighed, nodding to myself when I finished cleaning.

Good enough.

I went to the back to talk to the manager about my paycheck but paused when I heard a different person talking. Not the annoying fake accent. It was another accent, barely there but still there.

I tiptoed and peeked slowly to see what was going on.

"P–please, Mr. Günther, I'll have your money soon, promise." My manager quivered behind his desk as a man dressed in a white dress shirt tucked into brown dress pants propped his legs up on the desk.

He smirked. "Was that not what you said six months ago?"

"Ok, ok, you can take collateral from me until I can pay. One of my girls is still working. She's beautiful, plump, and quiet."

I almost made a sound. That son of bitch.

The man, Mr. Günther, stood up, his men behind him pulling out their guns. "No, it's ok." He stopped them. He didn't seem too mad. He seemed pretty joyful, actually. He pulled out his own gun. "I don't take collateral," he shrugged. "Waste of time," he said before shooting my manager straight through the head–luckily, I closed my eyes, but then I opened them back up as soon as loud gunshot noise rested.

I gasped when I saw the body.

Dumb bitch.

He looked at me, and I didn't wait to decipher his look. I started running. I didn't look back. I didn't care that I couldn't hear footsteps. I ran until my throat started to hurt, and I couldn't breathe without my chest hurting. I made it to my doorstep and looked behind me.

No one. They can't catch me. Nope.

Fuck.

Yup, that's my sign. I'm quitting my job. I'm definitely not going back. I think I saved myself some of the trauma by closing my eyes, but I still gasped and looked at my manager's dead body and that fine-ass man.

I couldn't care less about my manager, but oh my god, this is going to stain a little. "Fuck,"

I called my friend, Samantha. "Hello–?"

"Samantha, tomorrow, before work, I need you to meet me in the cafe. Please. It's urgent!"

Samantha laughed. "Ok, ok. I know you found a new man, though. Nothing new."

"Girl, it's different," I panted. "I'll see you."

Samantha sighed. "Alright, bye."

I hung up and plopped on my couch. "I am so outta here, bruh," I said to myself before going straight to the bathroom.

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

As soon as my alarm rang, I flung out of bed, brushed my teeth, took a shower, and put on my wig because I didn't have money to do my hair, nor could I do anything other than cornrow my hair.

I sighed, walking into my living room with my head on my phone. "Samantha, can you make it?"

I said, looking around my living room for my shoes.

"Yes whore, damn. I know this new man ain't fine like that."

I rolled my eyes. "Dumb ass, I told you. It's not about a man—eh, well it is, but not because he's fine, because he's—" My mouth stood open as I looked up to find the man from yesterday sitting at my dining table. Feet propped up and grinning. Perfect white teeth too.

"He's what? Another cheater? Liar–"

"S—Samantha, imma have to get back to you...if I can." I whispered, lowering my phone.

His grin widened. "Ah, you noticed me."

I gaped at him. "I—um,"

He stood up, taking his gun out as I froze in place. "Well, since you're at a loss for words, I'll go first."

He raised my chin with his gun, and I started to tear up. "Don't cry," he smiled. "I'm not going to kill you. You're too pretty, just like your manager said. I'm just here to threaten."

I sniffed. "I wasn't going to tell anyone."

He grinned. "Lying?"

I shook my head. "No," I whispered.

"Then who's Samantha? And who's this...him you have to tell her about?"

"I won't. I won't say anything. I promise."

He nodded. "Great," he beamed. "See, no one has to get hurt."

"But you killed Micheal. Why?"

Micheal is my manager. Michael something. I prefer 'my manager.'

He chuckled. "I didn't kill anyone. Repeat after me." He demanded.

"You didn't kill anyone," I whispered back.

"Great, sit. Let's talk."

I gulped as he put his gun back in his holder and sat down, gesturing for me to sit across from him, which I did immediately.

My knee bounced anxiously as he spent a good five minutes on his phone with a straight face for the first time that I'd seen him.

He always had a smile or grin on his face, and not an innocent one. There was something devious hidden behind his joyful aura.

Stop trying to get in his head. He's not someone you want to hang around. I scolded myself.

Then he put his phone down and looked at me with a grin. "How about this," he started. "I eat your pussy to help you...calm down."

My eyes widened. "What?!" I yelled, and I closed my legs if they weren't already.

His emerald eyes glowed in amusement, and he leaned on his hands like a kid and observed me. "Just saying,"

"N—no." I furrowed my brows.

He beamed. "This was nice," he looked at his expensive watch. "But you have a meeting with your friend, and I have somewhere to be."

He put on his gray trench coat and grinned at me. "Good day, Adore."

I watched as he closed my door.

"Fuck," I thought about calling Samantha about it, but I didn't want that man after her too. She might not be too lucky.

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

"You're fucking late." Samantha crossed her arms.

I rolled my eyes. "Endellion shut the fuck up," I said to annoy her. Endellion was her real name, but she changed it when she turned eighteen. Why? I don't know. I do know her mother was fucking pissed, and her dad was furious that out of all names, she changed it to Samantha.

"Don't let me slap you."

I lifted my hands, smiling. "I'm sorry, something came up."

Samantha shrugged. "It's fine. Tell me, who's this man?"

I shook my head. "It's no one. That's why we should go out tonight. We're single and broke. Let's go have fun."

Samantha furrowed her brows and smiled, both confused and amused. "Ok?" She laughed.

"Great, now, the other thing I must tell you," I sipped on my coffee. "My manager was shot dead, and I am now jobless."

Samantha started laughing. "He–Micheal, your manager was shot," she laughed, banging her hand on the table as I gaped, trying not to laugh as well.

I saw his death, but um, he was a pain in my ass, a pervert, and a cheap man. If he's going to hell, I don't know why his death would scar me.

Or maybe that's what I tell myself.

Nah... I don't give a fuck.

I sighed as Samantha finished. "Man, I'm sorry, but who the fuck cares about him?"

I chuckled a bit. "No, you're right, but I need a job, and quickly because my rent is coming up."

"Work with me in the strip club–not as a stripper." She laughed when she saw my face. "I know you have no sexiness to your dance."

"Alright fuck you."

Samantha chuckled. "But seriously, come be a waitress with me. You can wear whatever the hell you want. I'm going to talk to my manager. He's cool."

"Thank you, babes." I hugged her tightly.

She smiled, shrugging. "You know what I do."

"Anyways," I rolled my eyes. "What time you wanna go?"

"It's my day off, baby. Anytime's alright."

I glared at her. "So going to the club at 12 pm in the afternoon is alright with you?"

She glared back. "You are so dumb."

We both laugh.

"Alright, see you at ten?" I asked, getting up.

"Yup, bye bitch."

"Bye, whore."

✲꘏ ꘏ ꘏ ꘏✲

"What the fuck is this place?" I asked, pulling on my skirt. Wearing Samantha's closet was not a good idea.

"A place with hot men. Duh. The clubs in our neighborhood have druggies and wannabe thugs."

I laughed. "I thought we were here to have fun, not to find hook-ups."

Samantha shrugged. "Just in case, girl," she said, pulling me inside.

"Uh, no ID?"

Samantha smiled. "They got an app, so I registered us both." She squealed, heading for the bar. "Two gin tonics, please, sir."

The bartender gave her a smirk, but she ignored it.

"He wants you, Sammi,"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm tryna make it out the hood, not stay in it. I'm not a golddigger but girl,"

"No strings attached, I meant."

Samantha shook her head. "Nope, he's white. I don't do snowflakes."

I laughed, drinking a tonic and ordering some shots before something caught my eye. Someone caught my eye.

Mr. Günther, the man. He was staring at me with a grin, another man right beside him who was also fine. He had pitch-black hair. He looked a little mixed, though.

Why does this part of town have fine-ass white men?

Samantha's eyes followed my gaze and almost choked. "Nevermind, snowflakes are fine."

I gaped at her. "Endellion–"

"Samantha, please. Gosh, Endellion's such a weird ass name." She said.

I rolled my eyes. "So is Adore, but that's my name."

She shrugged, taking another shot. "It makes sense. Your parents adore you. My parents named me something that starts with 'end,' and yes, I know what Endellion means, but it's iffy."

She was getting drunk and opening her mouth.

Last time she told me how she allowed her boyfriend to shove ice cream up her ass and lick it off. I had nightmares after that and no money to go to therapy, though.

I chuckled in disbelief as she kept drinking before remembering that Mr. Günther was still there, but when I looked up and around, he was...gone.

I furrowed my brows but decided to forget about it. If I don't speak about it, he doesn't show up at my house. After a few shots, I realized I was going to be the designated driver, but then Samantha managed to talk to the man with Mr. Günther. She came back, grabbed her bag, threw me her keys, and told me to get home safe and that she was about to get 'fucked the fuck up.'

So, I went home before I could face Mr. Günther.

"Adore!"

I furrowed my brows. Why the fuck is he here. "Brent? Why?" I asked tiredly.

He moved closer to me, putting his hands on my waist. "Booty call?"

I scoffed. "No, what happened to the girl you cheated on me with?" I pushed him away to open my door.

"Come on, A. You said we were breaking up on good terms." He said, following me into my house.

"Nigg–oh," I took a deep breath. "Brent, that doesn't mean that you get to come fuck me whenever you want. Find some other booty call."

"A, I know you haven't been sleeping with no one since last year. Let me fuck that pussy up,"

Brent wasn't the smartest of guys. That's why I chose not to fight him when he cheated and peacefully told him to leave, but right now, he's testing my patience.

"Brent," I scolded, pushing his arms away. "We have not seen each other since the last year. You're not just gonna randomly show up and ask for sex."

Brent bit his lip. "It's ok," he said, nodding. "I know your pussy wet. Ain't no way it wouldn't. You ain't getting none. I'mma wait for you to call me."

I glared at his back as he left. "What nonsense," I sucked my teeth, walking into my room and turning on the lights. "Ahh!" I shrieked.

"Calm down, princess, it's just me." He grinned, sitting on my chair with his legs propped up on my desk. In his hands was a yellow thong...my yellow thong. 

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I hope you liked this.