Kai
Nightmares are the worst, especially when you know it's a nightmare but can't do anything about it. You just have to endure it.
I've lost count of how many times I've had this one.
Me, with fangs and claws, tearing some guy apart. He's scared, terrified for his life. In the dream, I'm a Host, a monster.
When I wake up to the alarm I set, I'm drenched in sweat. I need a shower before work. I called my manager before going to bed… or the couch, I could be considered it my bed, technically. I don't have a bed.
Whatever. I lied about being sick yesterday. I won't get paid for the hours I worked before vanishing, but that's better than losing my job.
I drag myself off the couch and head to the only other room in this place, the bathroom.
I glance at the mirror above the sink.
Black eyes stare back at me.
I look like shit.
That's a lie. I'd be a hypocrite to say I'm not conventionally attractive.
I've got exactly fifty-four minutes to wash, get dressed, and make it to work on time.
A hard task, sure. But possible.
I strip down and step into the shower. The water's barely warm, but it's enough, and for a while I just stand there, letting the sound of running water drown out everything else.
When I'm done, I turn off the tap, water dripping from my hair onto the tiles.
I grab the towel and grab my phone.
Twenty minutes.
"Shit."
I'm absolutely screwed. I basically launch myself out of the shower, half slipping on the wet floor, and sprint to my closet, if you can even call it that.
I yank out a black shirt, throw it on.
"Shit, shit."
Black jeans next.
I'm out the door in a matter of seconds.
My luck seems to be turning around, because just as I reach the bus stop, the bus pulls up. Two stops later, I'm off. I made it, just in time.
My manager, Larry, is already waiting at the door. Bald, round, and permanently irritated.
"Well, well," he says. "Look who decided not to be late today. Should I expect you to leave mid-shift again?"
"Larry, you know I'm sorry, right? I just—"
"Ah, don't give me that bullshit." He waves a hand, sneering. "Just go do your job."
And I do.
Elena's already behind the counter, she's a brunette with a big heart and even bigger boobs. She's obsessed with Hosts and the SFAH, all that stuff.
"Yo, have you seen the news? What happened yesterday?" she asks, leaning over the bar.
"Nah. You know I don't watch the news."
"You should! Look at this." She shoves her phone toward me.
[Two uncontrolled Hosts killed before the SFAH got to them. Who is the culprit?]
"Wow… very interesting," I say, flat as ever.
"Asshole," she mutters. "Anyway, do you think it was that group again? What were they called?"
"The Crew?" I ask. "Shitty name."
"Yeah! How'd you know that?"
"You've told me so many times, I memorized it."
…
My shift goes the same as always, smile at the customers, serve them drinks, answer the same boring questions. Typical stuff.
I'd hoped I wouldn't have to deal with Bob tonight. But my luck hasn't turned around that much. If only he came an hour later. My shift would've had ended. And I would've been home. Sleeping soundly, in my bed… couch.
Bob's a good guy, most of the time. But when he drinks… he gets too comfortable. With everyone.
So when I see him trying to chat up a couple of girls in their twenties, I know I have to step in.
"Hey, Bob, my friend," I say, approaching their table, fake smile on full display. "How have you been?"
"Ah, Kai, my favorite bartender," he grins. "You turned nineteen, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I did, three weeks ago," I reply, all the sweetness I can muster. "How about we step outside to talk?"
"Of course, my friend. But first…" He glances at the girls. "Let me introduce you to my new friends."
"This is Lucy," he says, pointing to the girl on the left. "And this is Megan." He continues, pointing at the girl on the right. They both give me a pleading smile. "This is my best friend, Kai."
"Yeah, nice to meet y'all," I say, basically tugging him out of the chair. "C'mon, Bob." He doesn't seem to mind.
It takes me ten minutes of coaxing to get him to go home and sleep. When I return behind the counter, Elena shoots me a glare. She thought I left again, didn't she?
I mouth, "B.O.B." Her glare softens into a smile. She hates dealing with him as much as I do.
Honestly, we could kick him out more aggressively, so he wouldn't come back, but all of us feel bad. His wife turned into an uncontrollable Host and was put down two years ago.
"You're a smooth talker, aren't you?"