I avoided Simon's eyes as I tried to pick out a pair of shoes from my overflowing closet, ignoring his furious stare that was intimidating whether I could see at or not. I tried to look casual as I selected a pair of deep brown belly flats and added them to the 'maybe' pile. His presence was getting extremely unnerving, looming over me just a couple of metres away.

"What do you mean, you work at a strip club?" I sighed heavily and selected a pair of deep brown flats, dropping them into the "maybe" pile.

"I bartend at a club, Simon. You know that."

"You never told me what sort of club," he said angrily, "and now I find out that you spend your nights with strippers?"

Trying not to cringe, I turned my back to him and replied, "It's not like I strip or anything. I just mix drinks, and I like it there. The pay is good," I added, trying to convince him of the monetary gain. My boyfriend's scowl just deepened and he suddenly seemed twice as menacing.

You're not afraid of him. But I was. Suddenly I felt cornered inside the closet, with Simon basically blocking the entrance. His temper was rising noticably as I tried to come up with a good reason that he shouldn't be mad.

"That doesn't matter, Gemma. Why the hell would you work at that sort of place?" I started to answer him, but he just cut me off. "What is wrong with you? I thought you were at least smart enough to realize that strip clubs are disgusting, since you refuse to admit that bartending is the most lowly form of work to be found on the entire planet. Do you have to be such an idiot all the time?"

I winced as his voice rose and the insults started, pounding in at my head and making my eyes water. I knew that it would be pathetic to cry, but his sharp words still hurt. "Simon, I-"

"Don't even speak! I'm sick and tired of hearing your whiny voice every time I'm telling you something! Just shut up!"

I tried to look dignified as the tears started gathering in my eyes again. Simon's small, icy eyes were piercing me as I fought to keep the waver out of my voice. "Simon, please calm down, it's just a job. Listen, I'll-"

Halfway through my sentence he surged forwards and grabbed my wrist, pinning it against the wall painfully. I cried out as he nearly threw me into the wall and turned my face away when he brought his close.

"I don't want to hear it. Stop being so useless and get yourself a real job." His words were venomous and full of hatred, letting loose the tears that had been locked away up until now. I tried to control myself but the wetness still leaked from my eyes and rolled down my cheeks. Simon ignored my weeping and stormed off, leaving me to sink to the floor and sit there until I could think again.

I hate him. I hate you, I tried to tell him in my head, but even there I was too afraid.

It so tempting to put my face in my hands and sob it all out, but I had to stay composed. Breaking down every time Simon lost his temper wouldn't help me any, and I had work in an hour. Crying would have to wait until later. Still, I sat there on the carpet for at least twenty minutes, shaking with hatred and sadness.

Finally I managed to haul myself up and pull on a pair of shoes, glad that I was already dressed for work: a loose red top that hung off of my shoulders and deep blue jeans. My hair was sure to be a little messed-up but I didn't care. I slunk out of the closet and into the bedroom, glaring at the bed that I'd have to share with Simon tonight. I hate you.

Tearing my gaze from the horrible room, I hurried out and tip-toed down the hallway, sneaking into the kitchen to grab a pear from the fridge. I knew that work wasn't for a good while yet, but on a whim I sped through the living room and to the front door, making sure that Simon wouldn't be able to hear me from the bathroom. I knew that if he caught me leaving things would go wrong very fast, and usually that stopped me from going without telling him first or leaving a note.

But something coursed through my veins that helped me out the door and into a long hallway that connected all of the apartments. I shut the door quietly behind me and headed for the elevator, trying not to think of what Simon would do to me when I got home.

Kartik's POV

I swivelled on my bar stool, trying to pretend thath my ass wasn't aching like hell from sitting so long. It was a little childish, I'll admit, but who wouldn't go a little crazy after an hour of something so incredibly boring as this? The strippers didn't entertain me nearly as much as they did the drunk fools throwing bills at them, and the current bartender was starting to look condescending as I spun around on my chair.

She rolled her eyes when I flashed her a charming grin and turned away to plunk down a messily made drink in front of a customer. I'd already noted that her mixing was sloppy, and it was obvious that the only reason the drinkers kept returning for more was because they knew that otherwise spending the night in a strip club would seem pathetic. They all scooped up their Black Barracudas and Dry Martini's and melted away, merging back into the crowd and only resurfacing to order another drink in hopes that it might be better than the last.

The bartender tried to encourage them, but her smile was fake and her eyes looked dead, drowned in mascara and eyeliner. According to her nametag, I should have been calling her Laticia, but for all I knew it could have been Agnus or Eugenia or something unnatractive that couldn't be announced to paying customers. She seemed like more of a Unis than a Laticia, anyway.

"Hey, Sullen and Ungrateful," I said loudly, and her head snapped around as she glared at me. "Why do you come to work every night if you'd rather be enduring Chinese Water Torture?"

Her eyes smoldered as she snapped, "My name's Laticia, and obviously you only came to be an annoying, stuck-up jerk." I widened my eyes mockingly and gasped, adding some extra theatrics as I pretended to be shocked.

"My, my," I scolded her. My expression became teasing. "Someone woke up this morning and decided that the whole world was her bitch."

Her face turned dangerous and I almost rethought provoking her, but the feeling evaporated as she pointed towards the "employees only" door behind her and said concietedly, "Listen, dickface, I can get the manager in here in a second, and she'll kick your sorry ass out of here, no questions asked." She was about to go on, but at that moment the door pushed open and a familiar redhead stepped through, frowning about something that was going on inside her head. She blinked and let the door close behind her, setting her purse down on a seperate counter beside her. Her mind seemed to clear a little and she looked at us, taking in Laticia's threatening posture and me innocent one as I looked up at her amusedly.

"Uh, would that be the manager?" She whipped around and spotted Gemma, her shoulders drooping a little.

"Um, no, that's my-"

"Replacement," I finished triumphantly. "Guess I'm in luck." She dropped her arm and tried not to look flustered as she hurried out, grabbing her own purse and shoving past Gemma in a huff. As the door opened to let her through I called out, "See you tomorrow!"

She plowed on, ignoring me as Gemma slowly approached the counter. "Hey," she said cautiously, obviously wondering what I'd done to her coworker.

"Don't worry, I'm not a creep. Your friend their is just a little bit snappy today."

"Ahh." The redhead sounded unsure, and I didn't blame her. "So, what brings you back here?"

"I'm still job-hunting."

She frowned, looking at me like she wasn't sure whether she was missing something. "So get a job interview."

I shook my head. "But I still don't know if I want to work here. I have to scout it out." The truth was I'd pretty much already decided against applying for the job, since strip clubs had never drawn my interest. But then again, that was a good thing; at least I wouldn't be distracted on the job. The salary had to be good, and Red was the most popular place in town. But there had to be better work out there somewhere.

This was the argument that had been rolling around in my head for the past day or so, and it was really starting to piss me off, so I forced myself not to think about it and asked Gemma for a drink.

"Which?" Her tone was light, and I realized that this was the time she enjoyed most, the calm before the nightly rush, when she wasn't dead on her feet. "Whichever you want. Have a specialty?"

She shrugged and a faint smile graced her full lips, which were a pretty rosepetal pink. Immediately they began to form words. "A few."

She set to work making my mystery drink, first kicking off her shoes and pushing them under the counter before shooting off into a series of smooth movements, blending liquids like it was an art form. I watched absently, wondering what had made me come back again tonight. Obviously it was her, but I couldn't figure out what it was that had drawn me to the seemingly simple bartender. Just by looking at the bags under her eyes though, I banished the word simple from my list of vocabulary that could ever describe Gemma. It could have been her looks, but I'd never thought of myself as shallow, and I wasn't about to start.

It was strange, the feeling that seeing her again would change things. The inexpliccable pull that had made me head down to the club instead of staying home and watching Comedy Central or going out with friends. I could have brought someone here, but already I had sensed that this was my own, this booming club with it's passionate, interesting employees.

Not that I'd categorize Alicia anywhere close to Gemma, but this place seemed to possess an infectious personality, and I loved it. Just the thought that I had this whole little world to myself brought a smile to my face, and Gemma herself caught me grinning at nothing, probably looking totally insane. She set my drink down in front of me with a quizzical expression.

"What's that about?" I shrugged, knowing that she wouldn't get it if I told her.

"Stuff," I replied immaturely and she sighed.

"Alright, don't tell me. But I'd stop it if I were you." She leaned closer to me. "You're scaring away the customers."

I scoffed at her and cleverly hid the grin that was rising quickly out of my stomach. She turned away with a smile and greeted an approaching drinker, who immediately ordered something dangerously potent with an embarrassing name. He paid Gemma extra for it and left her to pocket the excess change, which she did with a guilty look on her face. "What a horrible poker face," I said just loud enough for her to hear, and she blushed noticeably in the low lighting.

"What?"

"Are you supposed to be doing that?"

"Not quite, but it can't hurt," she answered, loosening up quickly. "After all, it's his fault for giving me too much cash."

"Of course."

I stumbled in the door of my apartment around four-o'-clock, my head light with the music that was bouncing around inside it, and also fuzzed up from the drinks I'd had with Kartik before leaving the club. I could barely keep my eyes open and the warm air that suddenly surrounded me as I closed the door behind me didn't help much.

There was a lingering happiness in my face that refused to go away, reminding me of the night every time it brought a ridiculous smile to my face. I couldn't really remember the last time I'd had that much fun at work. Of course, I knew inside that it wasn't where I was that had mattered, it was who I was with. Kartik's easy smile had somehow allowed me to laugh the night away at the bar, forgetting about what was waiting for me when I returned home. Now that I was here, the thought weighed me down considerably and my shoulders slumped with the invisible weight.

The apartment was silent except for the noise I made hanging my coat by the door and thumping my purse down on the floor next to the closet. A streak of hope passed through me as I listened, hearing no signs that Simon was still awake. He must have given up on me and gone to bed; his wrath could wait till morning, if there was any left in him. Which there would be.

I crept further inside slowly, hardly believing my luck. The kitchen was abandoned, the living room dead, and from the hallway I could see that the bathroom light was off, as well as the bedroom light. The fridge hummed reassuringly, constantly filling the air with it's noise.

I reluctantly turned from the main area of the apartment and faced the hallway, almost unable to venture any closer to the bed where he was definitely sleeping. Just because the jerk was unconscious didn't mean that I wanted to be anywhere near him, and I was desperate to go to sleep happy, not have the warm thoughts of Kartik wiped away by Simon's imposing presence.

Feeling like a traitor despite the circumstances, I turned back around and crept through the kitchen, wincing every time a tile creaked under my feet. I crossed over onto the carpet of the living room and squinted in the dark, feeling my way over to the couch. It almost didn't feel real to gently lay myself down on it's worn cushions and arrange the pillows beneath my head until they were comfortable. I laid my head down and let my eyes fall closed with a dreamy smile, drifting immediately into a deep sleep that would carry me safely till morning.

One Month Later: Kartik's POV

I groaned as my phone rang obnoxiously from the kitchen, keeping me painfully awake even though I'd been trying to block it out for what seemed like hours now. My pillow had somehow been thrown from the bed and onto my dresser, knocking over a can of deodorant and sending it rolling across the carpet to my bed. I stared at it for a blank second and kicked pathetically to untangle my feet from the warm sheets that had mummified them.

Reluctantly I sat up, closing my eyes against the rush of blood down into my body. The phone called louder.

Shut the hell up, I thought angrily, still too groggy to voice my opinions. I stood up carefully, glad that I'd left the thermostat on high last night. It was horribly wasteful, but at least I could walk around a warm house in the mornings.

I dragged my feet across the carpet, moving myself slowly towards the door that separated my room from the living room. I thought about bending to pick up the Axe on the carpet, but it seemed much too troublesome at this time of morning and I lumbered on past, grabbing the doorknob clumsily. I threw the door open and headed out into the living room, trying to figure out if I'd make it to the phone before the answering machine picked up-

"Hey, this is Kartik. Leave a message."

With a sigh I blinked and walked through the living room, temporarily shocked by the mess. There were cans of beer and chip bags strewn everywhere, and I mean absolutely everywhere. Blankets had been carelessly left on the floor and one of the couch cushions was dislodged. The television was still on, showing an accusing blue because someone had switched the satellite off instead of the actual appliance. The whole area smelled of shaving cream for some reason, a DVD was broken with its' two pieces laying on top of the television, and someone had scawled their signature onto the coffee table with a permanent marker.

I tried to remember who had all been here last night, but with a splitting headache it was just about impossible. They themselves were probably still passed out somewhere without the burden of actually being awake to experience their hangovers.

If I thought back hard enough I could see Cameron laying on my couch, his long legs hanging over the edge awkwardly. My closest friend had been wasted out of his mind last night, I just knew it, which meant that it definitely wasn't his call that I'd just missed.

I didn't bother to check the machine as I travelled into the kitchen and threw myself down on a wooden chair, barely acknowledging the army of beer bottles piled on the counters. I managed to find a bowl in among the mess and grabbed a box of cereal from the table, pouring it into my bowl until it overflowed.

I sat lazily in the kitchen for ten minutes, munching away at my dry cereal as I wondered if I had any plans today. My part time job at the little bar across town didn't include weekends, so I was good for that, and everyone I knew had been totally hammered last night, meaning that today was a catch-up. I hadn't drank that much, though, and already I felt too awake to slump back to bed for the rest of the day.

I took another minute to finish my breakfast and went to get dressed, pulling off my ratty shirt as I headed down the hallway. Luckily no one had gotten into my room last night and it was fairly easy to find some clean clothes. I slowly dragged a long-sleeved t-shirt over my head and put on some blue jeans, knowing that soon I'd need some new clothes and also knowing that I'd put it off for a good while longer.

Twenty minutes later I was wishing that I'd crawled back into bed and had a long, long, nap. My eyelids sagged as I sat in my car, waiting for traffic to let up slightly so that I could inch forwards another foot or so. The Mustang's radio was cranked up as high as possible to keep me awake, but it wasn't quite working and I could hear car horns and faint shouts outside that told me the music was pissing some people off.

I made an effort of reaching over and turning the volume dial until Rise Against was just a quiet mumbling, then sat back once more and sighed, looking out the window at the sea of cars that surrounded me.

I usually prided myself on driving the nicest car on the road, but there was one of those new Camaros a few lanes over that was annoyingly well-kept. Even worse, there was a chick inside, wearing huge tinted sunglasses and tapping on her GPS. I rolled my eyes and looked away, trying to remember why I'd wanted to head to the movies anyway. I should have just ordered something on Pay-per-View and watched in my trashed living room.

I eased up on the brake pedal and let the car slide forwards, coming dangerously close to the rear end of the SUV in front of me. I made a little face as I hurriedly stopped the car and sat back again, hoping that if I had bumped the vehicle no one would notice.

So far my day was terribly boring, and it was barely one. The only guarenteed fun activity that would be happening today was my nightly visit to Red. I went every day of the week but Sunday, when they were closed, and every night Gemma was there. I usually didn't talk for long, but sometimes got caught up and ended sitting on the wrong side of the bar with her until the club shut down.

Last night had been the first time I hadn't gone for a long time, and I almost felt guilty for abandoning her there. Alcohol had managed to wipe that away after a certain amount of time, but now I was feeling anxious that she might be mad at me. I told myself that it would be ridiculous if she even cared, but I still felt like an enormous jerk.

I'd been close to uncovering some new information about her boyfriend Simon, who interested me greatly. Gemma spoke of him with more bitterness and hate than love and compassion, but I hadn't worked up the nerve yet to ask her why the hell she was still with him. Occassionally I sensed something frightened and hurt under her warm exterior, and something told me that it was Simon. That was one thing that pissed me off, was when she seemed all broken up inside and she wouldn't tell me what was wrong no matter how many times I asked. I didn't push her on it anymore.

Once she had let something slip, but it had been so uncommon that I almost thought I'd dreamed it up. I walked up to the bar to a much shakier Gemma than usual. She was wringing her hands and clenching her teeth like a madwoman.

"What's the matter?" I'd asked her cautiously.

"Simon," she'd said angrily, with a waver to her voice. "Filthy son-of-a-bitch."

I'd almost reeled at the sudden uprising of temper, but she'd continued on, mumbling low enough that I could barely hear. "Arrogant, controlling bastard. Doesn't deserve to live, dumbass pig...."

I had stared at her in shock until she snapped out of it and took on a regretful and scared expression, trying to cover up her outburst. All that evening I'd refrained from bugging her and tried not to be as immature as usual. Predictably, she had been totally normal the next night.

Now I was worried that she could have had a total breakdown last night and I hadn't been there to do something about it, even though it was pathetically protective and stupid. I wished that the club would be open at this time, but I couldn't go until eight, when the sun normally went down. A movie would be a good idea to pass the time, but I honestly didn't feel like watching one at all, and the clothes shopping I'd been planning wasn't happening either.

I passed a Subway and looked down the road, trying to find something that was worth my worthless time. The only thing I could really see was a huge Travelodge with a sign over top of it that announced that length of their newest waterslides. There was a strip of small business that came up before the hotel, but I couldn't read their signs until I was much closer. One of them was a boring specialty shop, but the other boasted four enormous letters that made my heart soar: TCBY.

I grinned like a child and pulled my car our of traffic, taking the exit up into the small parking lot. There were plenty of empty spaces and I screeched into the first one I saw, forgetting to drive carefully as I shifted the Mustang into park and grabbed the keys. I flung the driver's side door open and hopped out, reluctant to leave the refreshing air-conditioned safety of my car.

I shut the door and went up onto the sidewalk, moving along it until I was under the TCBY sign. I pushed through the door and straight into an even colder place, one that smelled of refrigerator steam and fruit. Atificial lights glared, illuminating every corner of the small store. The brightest was a huge menu, shouting out varied flavours of frozen yogurt. Above it was a pink neon sign: The Country's Best Yogurt. I fought back a childish smile as I approached the counter, trying to select something out of the hundreds of options. Finally I asked the sour-faced employee for a vanilla-chocolate and watched as she nodded and went to make it. Her movements were irritatingly slow but I didn't say anything; I didn't need any more people to think I was a jerk.

I fished in my pocket for change and dropped a few coins on the counter, making sure that I had enough money before starting to move them around like game pieces. I remembered my father teaching me how to play chess when I was eight, tolerating the fururistic sound effects I made every time I shifted one of the serene characters. He'd just smiled as I moved my knight across the whole board to focefully knock his queen off of the edge, or moved my bishop one square directly forward so that I could threaten his king.

My mother had sat and watched for a while as I totally butchered the game, then went off to stop my baby sister's crying. Dad had told her that he'd get it next time, and her sarcastic reply was still fresh in my mind. I cringed inwardly against the sharp bitterness that automatically arose in my chest along with the memory, wishing that the pain could have faded like it did for my brother and sister.

Luna and Raz weren't old enough to remember what it felt like to wake up one morning and find that Dad wasn't there anymore. What it felt like to find his drawers lying empty on the floor, crying out for forgiveness. To watch as their mother practically fell apart in front of their eyes. She'd searched and searched for some sort of reason and tried to remember him telling her good-bye, but there was nothing. He hadn't even left a note.

"Sir?"

I jolted out of my trance and looked up from the counter, blinking twice as I looked at the girl in front of me wearing a TCBY nametag. She looked like she was about to call in therapist or something so I forced myself to smile and take the yogurt from her hand. The girl's eyes lingered on me as she swiped my money off of he counter and put it in the till.

I declined a reciept and another order and sat on the swivelling stool by myself, on the brink of drifting off again. I shook my head like there was a fly buzzing around inside it and carved a bite of yogurt out with my spoon, eating it slowly. By the time I'd gotten halfway through my treat I was fully awake, and kicking myself for going back to it once again. You're a grown man, Kartik; why can't you just forget about it and move on? Because I just couldn't, was why.

I envied Luna, the youngest of us all. She hadn't the faintest memory of his face, and had found it the easiest to accept that she didn't have a father. For her, he hadn't left. He'd just never been there.

Raz was doing just as well, even though I knew that he felt it sometimes. He lived with his steady girlfriend somewhere out east, and had a good paying job as a contractor. For the umpteenth time I was embarrassed to be a DJ, especially in a cheap bar that meant nothing in the world. Red was going to be my upgrade, but it honestly wouldn't make my siblings think any different of me if I worked in a strip club instead of a normal bar (no matter how prestigious that club was).

I hadn't visited any of my relatives for years, and didn't plan on it any time soon. I was fine spending all my money on frozen yogurt, stupid movies and drinks that I only ordered so that I could hang around the bartender. One day I would look back and hate myself for those spontaneous moments, but I couldn't being myself to give up my careless streak, no matter how much trouble it had or would cause me.

Seven-and-a-half hours later I sat on my personal barstool, watching Gemma closely. She looked like she wanted to ask me something, but she held it back as if she thought it wouldn't be a good idea. I guessed that it concerned my whereabouts last night, but I wasn't sure so I kept the answer to myself. We chatted lightly as usual, and soon I was buzzing with her presence as much as I was with alcohol. Tonight she had a replacement coming in, so at twelve she came out from behind the bar and sat beside me with her own drink.

"So," she said loudly, trying to reach me over the music, "where do you go when you're not sitting at a strip club waiting for one of the employees to come to work?" Her lips were twisted into a smirk and and couldn't help but smile a little at her jest.

"I take pictures of young children on playgrounds and torture small animals in my mother's basement, " I told her especially loud, drawing Alicia's attention as she waited for customers. She looked pissed and I avoided her eyes, looking straight at Gemma as she laughed and nodded.

"We must have similar interests, then."

"Absolutely," I said, pronouncing each syllable clearly through the haze of my mind. Alecia was full-out glaring at me now, her raccon-ish makeup drawing in until I could barely see the whites of her eyes. She moved along the bar until she was right in front of us, making me conscious of the small distance between our bodies.

"Okay, why do you come here every night, anyway?" She couldn't have sounded any bitchier, but I wanted to laugh at her position with her hand on her hip and her body bent at the waist so that her emnarrassing cleavage was clearly visible to the both of us. "Seriously, it's really creepy."

I gave a little shrug and used the stupidest line that popped into my head: "It's a free country."

"Whatever. You know, it's not cool when you use comebacks that a seven-year-old could think of."

I raised my eyebrow, starting to realize just how dumb she was. "Uh-huh," I said, and gave her a once over as she pursed her lips and frowned at me. "Well, I think I might just have to remind you that I can actually do whatever I want, and you can't stop me. Do I really have to be the one to tell your boss that you've been harrassing customers?" Gemma was looking at me with mild shock, but it was mostly amusement. I was glad that she didn't mind me being like this sometimes.

Alecia glared harder and mumbled something under her breath that sounded like "Whatever," but she backed off and went to tend to the waiting customers. I turned back to Gemma with a flashy smile, which she returned readily.

"Well, that was quite a show," she said happily. "And just when things were getting boring around here." She sipped the last droplets of her drink and I mirrored her, trying to grasp the idea that had just appeared on the edge of my consciousness. I was silent, looking at her closely as I realized that something was wrong with her face. Gemma's emerald eyes were sad, and twin teardrops had left trails on her cheeks, just visible as the light deflected off of them.

"Gemma?"

She suddenly looked at me as if surprised that I was there. Her mouth opened but nothing came out, and I filled the silence with the most unexpected sentence that had ever come out of my mouth.

"Want to go see a movie?"