Chapter 5 Seeing Tracey Again

While Tracey was in prison, Weston's career only seemed to move forward ever faster.

Jade had also been discharged from the hospital rather quickly, and in the eyes of outsiders, they seemed like a perfect couple.

However, sometimes, Weston still thought of Tracey.

In those moments, he always remembered the desperate look in her eyes as she was sentenced to prison, and her heartbreaking scream.

On days like that, he would get extremely irritable.

On one such day, Jade called him while he was working in his office in the HL Group. "Weston, we haven't had dinner together for a long time. Will you have time tonight?" she asked.

"Not tonight," Weston replied, standing in front of the large French window and looking at the heavy traffic on the street beneath. "I have an appointment with Alex and Ricky."

"All right," Jade said, but she couldn't hide the disappointment in her voice. It had already been a year, but she was still only his girlfriend.

And now that she knew that Tracey had been released from prison, she felt threatened and insecure.

"How about tomorrow? We could have lunch together tomorrow." Knowing that she was disappointed about dinner, Weston agreed to have lunch with her instead, and after he heard that she was satisfied, he hung up.

Soon after, he walked down to the underground parking lot, his car keys jangling in his hand.

Meanwhile, Tracey was learning the ropes at the Platinum Club.

In order to earn more money, she drank late with the guests every night.

"Tracey, hurry up. Table five is waiting," Laura called to Tracey.

"I'm coming," Tracey said, straightening her clothes. Her work skirt only reached her thighs, and as she wasn't used to wearing something so short, she would often try to pull it down. She always tried to hide her imperfect legs.

Most of the people who came to the Platinum Club were extremely rich, and they usually had their own private rooms and bar girls that served them specifically. The hall, however, mostly saw guests that were the "new rich," or the "fake rich," but still, if they were satisfied, they would leave huge tips.

"Mr. Wang," Tracey said when she approached the gentleman in question. Mr. Wang was a regular guest, and the first time Tracey served him, she impressed him with her drinking prowess. Since then, he always requested her whenever he came to the club.

"Here you are at last. Take a seat," he said, and Tracey sat down next to him. As Tracy opened a bottle of wine for Mr. Wang, they heard a commotion over the stage.

"What kind of club is this? You can't even find a singer!" one of the guest yelled, a middle-aged man with a big belly.

"I am very sorry. We have unexpectedly lost contact with the singer. Would you like to have a seat first, and I'll..." one of the hostesses apologized instantly.

"Can't you find a person who can sing in such a big nightclub? Is this how you treat your guests? I came here to listen to some songs, and you can't even provide something as simple as that?"

"I'm really sorry..."

The hostess was a young girl, about eighteen years old. Tracey knew her, and she knew that she had to work at the nightclub because of her family's bad financial state. She was still inexperienced, and Tracey could see that she was about to cry.

"I don't care. If you have no singer, then you go onstage and sing," the man kept demanding.

Tracey didn't want to get involved, as she thought someone would take care of it sooner or later.

She continued drinking with Mr. Wang, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see the young hostess and the unpleasant man. When the guest kept insisting and wouldn't let the hostess go despite her apologies, Tracey couldn't stand it anymore. She got up, stood in front of her young colleague, and said, "Sir, please calm down. The singer is unfortunately not available tonight, but how about..."

The man snorted, interrupting her. "And who the hell are you? It's none of your business anyway."

Then he grabbed the young hostess's hand, trying to force her to sing. The girl was so scared that her face was white as a sheet.

"Tracey..." she called, begging her for help.

When Tracey heard that her favorite song had just come up, she sighed and asked, "Will you be satisfied as long as someone goes up to sing?"

"Yes," the man answered, and Tracey slowly walked onto the stage. She sat on the high stool that was placed in the center, and all eyes suddenly focused on her.

Trying to ignore them all, Tracey held the microphone and sang, "There won't be surging waves, and they've never been in your dream. White moonlight is shining, and then you miss her so much. Cinnabar mole will long be there. Are you going to be aware? Bright moon above window, and you watch it alone from afar. White moonlight is the youth, and like her smile..."

Tracey's life in prison wasn't easy. She now had a limp, and her voice had gotten hoarse, but it had also become more soulful. As she sang, her voice spread like the setting sun shining on a sparkling lake.

For her, the song was a sort of catharsis. All the words and emotions that she hadn't been able to release all that time were now finally out in the open.

Meanwhile, in one of the private rooms, Weston was resting on the sofa with his eyes closed.

However, when he heard the song coming from the main hall, something flashed across his black eyes. It was as if he was an eagle that had just spotted its prey. His eyes were like swords, and his lips were slightly pursed.

He hadn't heard Tracey's voice in a long time, and he had to admit it was a bit hoarser than before, but he recognized it immediately.

Quickly, he stood up, opened the door, and positioned himself behind the handrail on the second floor. From there, he could see the whole stage.

His first thought was that Tracey had indeed changed a lot in the past year.

She was much thinner, and her slightly curly long hair was tied in a ponytail, the very end of it resting on the curve of her neck. Her once bright eyes now looked like they were covered with a layer of dust, like the boundless deep sea.

She had been in prison for a whole year, but to him, she seemed even more charming than before.

He looked around to see the reaction of the crowd, and when he saw the men stare at her greedily, he felt anger bubble inside him.

Soon, Tracey's song was over. She bowed to her audience and was about to return to Mr. Wang when she was stopped by two men.

"Beautiful girl, have a drink with us," one of them said.

She could smell the stench of alcohol coming off them, and she frowned. "Sir, I'm sorry. I have a guest over there..."

She tried to explain, but they weren't having it. The man started yelling, "What? Are you looking down on us? You should be grateful that I chose you. You should count yourself lucky.

You are a beer girl, aren't you? Why does it matter who you drink with?

And look at your leg! You're a cripple! How dare you look down on me?"