You Again?! ( My firecracker babysitter)

Chapter 1

Sophia POV

"Hey, mother fucker, over here!" I tossed the towel at a male waiter, a sluggish and naive guy who had just started working a few hours ago. I snorted in disgust, thinking he was a jerk and a numb ass. I was arranging wine cups at the wine bar when a familiar voice caught my attention.

"Sophy Harvey, what's up?" I turned gracefully, knowing full well who would dare to call my name so boldly. Anger flashed across my face, but it quickly subsided as I took in the sight of a new face standing alongside him. I raised my chin stylishly, pointing at the young man. "Who's this dude with you, Teddy?" I asked, my tone laced with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

"A friend," Ted answered, his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up, the sound echoing through the night. I felt a surge of unease at the sudden noise. "Ted!" I sneered, but quickly composed myself.

Mr. Handsome's expression turned stern, and I apologized profusely, adding ice to the ice bucket as I struggled to regain my composure. "What a disgrace," I muttered under my breath, chastising myself for my foolish mistakes. "Silly me," I added, pinching myself for my carelessness.

"Do you care for a drink, Teddy?" I asked, trying to sound friendly despite my reservations about his request.

As I poured the liquor into the short glass cup, the glooping sound filled the air. This cup was reserved for our VIP customers, and I was proud to be one of the professional bartenders who got to serve them. I focused intently on the pour, making sure not to spill a single drop.

"Here you go, Teddy," I said with a smile, handing him the glass. "Enjoy your drink."

"Je vous remercie, ma très chère Sophy," he said with a charming smile, thanking me in French, a language I usually find irritating when used to express gratitude.

But I played along, responding with a formal "You're welcome, sir" as I carefully balanced the tray of expertly mixed potato liquor glasses. My steps were slow and deliberate as I catwalked down the three steep stairs that led to the exclusive VIP section.

The glasses clinked softly on the tray, and the soft glow of the VIP area lights highlighted the delicate condensation on the glasses. I felt a sense of pride and professionalism as I made my way down, my eyes fixed on the waiting customers, and my gaze also drifted discreetly to Isla, who was sitting among them, looking stunning as always.

"Hey, Soph!" Isla's soprano voice cut through the thick atmosphere of cigarette and shisha smoke, which hung heavy like a fueling station, laced from person to person.

"Browny's not going to stop smoking, so get your slim-fitting body out of their mist, Isla," I said, French-accenting the heat, but not when you're with them, girlfriend. I advised, tilting my head to the side.

"I know, I know," she replied, picking up her bright orange purse-thank God it was orange-because Isla was notorious for her questionable fashion choices and matching outfits.

Isla's response was laced with a hint of sarcasm, but I knew she appreciated my concern. We exchanged a knowing glance, and I continued on my way, delivering drinks to the waiting customers in the VIP section. Later, I retired to my cantor, with Isla by my side, holding up the empty tray.

As we stepped away from the bustling VIP area, I let out a sigh of relief. "Well, that was a night," I said, shaking my head. Just then, an alarm clock started ringing loudly, and I gazed at Isla suspiciously. Her raised brow and stifled giggles hinted at her mischievous and playful tactics.

"Did you bring an alarm clock with you?" I asked, incredulous.

She nodded, a smile spreading across her face. "Yes, I did, and I'm sorry, but I need to get back to work."

With that, she hurriedly left my side, rushing towards the stripping pole. I watched her go, still trying to process the unexpected turn of events. The alarm clock's incessant ringing faded into the background as I shook my head in disbelief, chuckling to myself. Only Isla would think to bring an alarm clock to a nightclub.

"Is she a stripper?" Mr. Handsome asked me, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Yes, she is," I replied quickly, nodding in Isla's direction as she skillfully writhed her waist around the pole.

"You want to book her for the night?" I asked, turning to Mr. Handsome, who seemed enticed by Isla's performance.

My voice echoed through the clubhouse, "Go girl!" as I cheered her on, drawing attention from the surrounding crowd.

Teddy, who had been ignored by Mr. Handsome, looked at me with a raised eyebrow, but I just shrugged and continued to watch Isla's mesmerizing performance. The music pulsed through the air, and Isla's body seemed to fluidly move to the rhythm, her skills on full display.

I pulled out a pack of cheese and sponge cake, decorated with vanilla icing cream. "I love you, baby," Teddy said, his hands filling with cake as he took a large bite. His eyes scrolled through his phone, and his conversation with me was minimal.

"How much for the night?" Xander asked, his eyes still full, concentrating on Isla.

"500 dollars for the night, sir," I replied, my eyes fixed on the cash in his hand.

He quickly dropped a bundle of 350 dollars, and my eyes widened, surprised by the prompt payment. I gently placed a card on the counter. "She'll meet you in the room. Enjoy your night, sir."

He nodded, his eyes still fixed on the stripping pole, and began to walk away. I watched him go, impressed by the ease of the transaction. Some nights were indeed better than others.

"Hey Isla, come on, you've got work to do!" I shouted out, the hisses from the crowd making me gasp out a loud "Oh!" like an owl. "Room 296, take the spare key!"