The geometry of capitalism

The Parthenon Club stood as a monument to excess on the corner of 5th and Main, its Greek-inspired facade gleaming even in the twilight. Jack had worked there for nearly a decade, first as a bouncer and eventually rising to Head of Security. The job had its perks - he was paid well, enjoyed the respect of the staff, and there was no shortage of beautiful women. The downside was his boss, Liza, who seemed to take particular pleasure in making Jack's life difficult. She had a penchant for micromanaging and constantly questioned his decisions.

As Jack walked up to the entrance with Millia by his side, he felt a quiet wave of anger crashing over him. Around this time, a few days from now, the bitch’s betrayal would be revealed, causing him to lose his job and eventually get arrested. Of course, that was another timeline, and not one he was anxious to repeat. But the anger hadn’t withered. It was still within him, smoldering, its heat causing Millia to look at him with uncertain eyes.

Liza was waiting for him just inside, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

"There you are, Jack. Late as usual," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Only because I want to look my best for my lovely boss," Jack replied, forcing a smile.

Liza raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking to Millia. "Who's this?"

"This is Millia," Jack said, placing a hand on the nymph's shoulder. "She's the daughter of an old army buddy. She's going to be helping out behind the bar tonight."

Liza's expression darkened. "I wasn't aware we were hiring, Jack."

"Well, I figured with the Smith party coming in tonight, we could use some extra hands," Jack said, trying to sound casual. "And Millia here is a quick learner. I've been showing her the ropes already."

Liza didn't look convinced. "I don't know, Jack. We have a lot of regulars coming in tonight. I'm not sure I want some inexperienced girl behind the bar."

"Come on, Liza," Jack said, flashing his most charming smile. "Give her a chance. I mean, look at her. Do you really think anyone is going to complain if she's serving them drinks?"

Liza's gaze traveled over Millia's form, taking in the white chiton hugging her curves and the long blonde hair that fell over her shoulders. Then she licked her lips and glanced back at Jack.

"Fine," she said reluctantly. "Since she’s already in uniform and all… But I'm watching her. And if there are any complaints, she's out of here."

"Fair enough," Jack said, hiding his relief. He knew Liza had a thing for beautiful women, and he had been counting on that fact when he brought Millia to work with him. "Now, where's Thomas? I need to show Millia how to use the register."

"Over there," Liza said, pointing to the other end of the bar where Thomas was polishing glasses.

"Great," Jack said, guiding Millia towards Thomas. As they walked away, he could feel Liza's eyes on them, and he knew he had only temporarily appeased her.

Operation Temple versus The Parthenon had officially begun.

Millia stood next to Thomas, watching as he demonstrated how to operate the cash register. She was clearly out of her element, her golden eyes wide as she tried to take in everything at once. Jack couldn't help but smile at her nervousness. He had a feeling she wasn't used to feeling this way, and it amused him to see the nymph so flustered.

"Okay, got it," Millia said after Thomas finished explaining. "So I just press upon the enchanted glass over the proper emblems and the orders will be conveyed to the ones preparing the potions, correct?"

Thomas looked at her strangely. "Uh, yeah. That's right."

"And the patrons pay with the use of these rectangular cards?" Millia continued, picking up a credit card from the counter. "Or with these painted rectangles of paper?" She held up a dollar bill.

"Yes, that's right," Thomas said, looking even more confused. "Have you never used money before?"

"Of course not," Millia huffed. "We don't use such primitive methods in my realm. Do rectangles hold any symbolic value in your culture? Are there any other rectangles I should be made aware of? The floor seems to be a rectangle too. Is that significant?" She was looking around the club, taking in all the rectangular tables and decorations.

Thomas looked at Jack, clearly lost. Jack just shrugged and said, "She's from a small town. Doesn't get out much."

"Well, no, we don't really use rectangles for anything else," Thomas said, turning back to Millia. "And the floor isn't really a rectangle either. It's more like a trapezoid."

Millia's eyes narrowed. "A trapezoid? What's that?"

Thomas pulled out his phone and quickly searched for a definition. "It's a quadrilateral with only one pair of parallel sides," he said, showing Millia the image on his screen.

"Hmm," Millia said, studying the image. "I see. And why is the floor in the shape of such a thing?"

Thomas shrugged. "I guess spacing required it."

Millia nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "Well, that's good. We wouldn't want our floor to be shaped like anything significant now, would we?"

"No, of course not," Thomas agreed. Jack could tell he was trying not to laugh at the nymph's naivete.

"Alright, I think that's enough for now," Jack said, interrupting their conversation. "Why don't you start her on some drinks, Thomas? The Smith party should be here soon."

"Sure thing, Sergeant Ranger Delta **** Temple," Thomas said, saluting Jack. "Whatever you say."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Just get to work, private."

"Yes, sir!" Thomas said, before turning to Millia. "Okay, so the first thing you need to know is how to make our signature drink, the Aphrodite's Kiss."

"Aphrodite's... Kiss?" Millia asked, her cheeks flushing slightly.

"It's a fruity drink," Thomas said. "Made with vodka, peach schnapps, and cranberry juice. We serve it in a martini glass with a sugar rim."

Millia nodded, her eyes never leaving Thomas's face as he explained how to prepare the drink. Jack watched them, satisfied. This was going exactly as he had planned. Millia was already drawing attention, and the Smith party hadn't even arrived yet.

As Thomas continued to instruct Millia, Jack made his way back over to Liza. She was standing behind the bar, watching the nymph with a calculating look in her eye.

"So, what do you think?" Jack asked her. "Pretty good for her first night, huh?"

Liza turned to him, a smirk on her face. "She's not bad," she said. "But we'll see how she handles the Smith party. They can get pretty rowdy."

"You worry too much," Jack said confidently. "Millia can handle herself."

Liza raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Well, we'll see about that, won't we?"

Jack just smiled, noticing her gaze as it devoured Millia. He knew where her mind was venturing, and he was counting on it.

As predicted, the Smith party arrived shortly after nine. They were a group of wealthy businessmen and their girlfriends, and they always caused a commotion when they came to the club. This night was no exception.

As soon as they walked in the door, all eyes were on them. The men were all dressed in expensive suits, and the women were wearing tight dresses that showed off their curves. Jack recognized a few of them from billboards and magazine covers.

"Looks like the party's here," Liza said, coming to stand next to Jack. "Think your girl can handle it?"

"Oh, I know she can," Jack said, nodding towards Millia. She was standing behind the bar with Thomas, her emerald eyes fixed on the new arrivals.

"Good," Liza said. "Because I have a feeling they're going to want a lot of drinks."

As if on cue, one of the businessmen made his way over to the bar. He was tall and muscular, with slicked back hair and a charming smile.

"What can I get you?" Thomas asked him.

"I'll have a whiskey on the rocks," the man said. "And whatever the ladies want."

Thomas looked over at the group of women, who were all clamoring to order their drinks.

"A Cosmopolitan for me," one of them said.

"I'll have a Long Island iced tea," another added.

"And I'll take an Aphrodite's Kiss," the third said, smiling suggestively at Millia.

Thomas turned to Millia. "You think you can handle that?" he asked her.

Millia nodded. "Of course," she said confidently. "It's but a simple matter of mixing liquids."

"Well, go ahead then," Thomas said, stepping back to let her work.

Millia watched him for a moment before reaching for a bottle of vodka. As she did, her chiton rode up slightly, revealing a glimpse of her smooth, tan thigh. The businessman couldn't help but stare, his eyes following the line of her leg up to where her dress hugged her curves.

"So, how much do you charge for private dances?" he asked, licking his lips.

Millia looked at him, confusion in her eyes. "Private dances?"

"Yeah, you know," the man said, leaning in close. "A private show, just for me."

"I haven't received any training in dances," Millia said. "And even if I had, I doubt I would be willing to perform them for the likes of you."

The man looked taken aback. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"It means you're not worthy of my attention," Millia said, her voice cool. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have drinks to make."

The man's face turned red with anger, but before he could say anything else, Jack intervened.

"You should probably take a breath, my good sir. Before asphyxiation takes hold," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

The man spun around to face him. "And who the hell are you?"

"I'm Jack. How can I help you?" Jack asked, his voice firm but polite.

"I was just trying to order a drink," the man said. "But your bitch of a bartender won't serve me."

"Well, that's clearly a derelict of her duty as alchemist of this tavern," Jack sighed. "And I'll have her face a tribune for her indiscretions. And I assume, based on your implacable suit and splendid haircut, that there was no trespasses made by your end during the negotiation of service and payment?"

The man looked at him, face turning an even deeper shade of red. "Are you accusing me of something?"

"Not at all," Jack said smoothly. "I was merely trying to ascertain if there was any inappropriate behavior on your part that may have contributed to the situation."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" the man growled, as some of his friends started to form up behind him. They were all members of the peripherals of the party, trailing the wealthy men like shadows, waiting for their moment in the sun. Had they been born in another era, one might have titled them 'minions'. Today, they were merely called 'friends', and were always eager to please their benefactors. "You'd better be fucking careful about what you're implying, or you're going to regret it."

Jack found the eyes of one of the other members of the Smith party, a big man with a thick, muscular neck and a prominent Adam's apple, who mouthed 'He's new! Sorry!' and shrugged with a smirk, sipping his drink with a straw before whispering something to a gorgeous woman, dressed all in black, at his side.

He only seemed to be missing a bucket of popcorn.

"How about you tell me who you are, my good sir. I don't think I've had the pleasure?" Jack asked the newcomer of the Smith entourage. "Then we can have a discussion of your grievances, and find a solution to your problems."

"Right now, my fucking problem is you," the man snarled. "And if you don't get the fuck out of my face, I'm going to do something about it."

"Oh, and what are you implying that you'll do about it?" Jack asked innocently.

"I'll fucking show you," the man growled. Suddenly, his fist came flying towards Jack's face.