Buddy whimpers suddenly and I realize I’ve curled my nails into his fur. I soothe him with a gentle caress and a pat. He settles back down.
“Well, it’s a little more than that. I’m understating the gravity of the situation when I say that my son refuses to meet with me. It would be more accurate to say that he loathes my very existence and would prefer to pretend I don’t exist. If you can change his mind, then I’ll consider a million to be a bargain.”
“There’s a chance that given some time he’ll come around on his own. Don’t you think you should just, I don’t know, wait?”
“Time. The one thing I don’t have any more of.” His eyes cloud and I remember then that he is sick. And I feel an unmistakable tug of pity.
“I’m not sure what you think I can do. But I’ll ask him.”
“He’ll respond better if he doesn’t know the suggestion is coming from me.”
It feels so sleazy, the thought of trying to convince Tank to come see his dad without him knowing why. It’s not like we’re friends. How would I even bring that up in conversation? But we’re talking about a lot of money. It could mean the difference between working two jobs for years trying to earn tuition money and going to college in a few months. It could mean moving out of the house and into a place of my own. No more struggling.
No more Jon.
“I realize this is unorthodox but this is a job offer, Miss Shaw. No more, no less. It’s a legitimate job offer that can give you the money you need to fulfill your dreams. Veterinary school is expensive. You could finish your studies with no debt hanging over your head. No worries. Think of the possibilities.”
His eyes gleam and there’s a maniacal light in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. Suddenly, it’s all too much. Too much pressure and too much to think about.
“I’m not sure I can do what you’re asking. Not that Tank would listen to me anyway. I’ll let you know.” I set Buddy gently on the couch before I stand and gather my things.
He dips his head in acknowledgment. “Fair enough. All I want you to do is try. There’s no harm in that.”
Later that evening I’m still chewing on Mr. Marshall’s offer. I don’t have much time to think though because my car wouldn’t start again and I had to ask Ivy for a ride to my second job.
Now I’m late.
As I trot across the gravel parking lot toward the back entrance of the Black Kitty, my tote bag bounces against my side. The neon sign isn’t lit up yet. Without the blinking sign it could almost pass for a regular bar instead of a strip club.
Lou, the bouncer, holds the door open for me. “He’s in a mood tonight. Try to stay out of his way. And he told me to tell you the new uniforms start tonight.”
He is Paul Lattimer, the owner of the Black Kitty and a first-rate dirtbag. He thinks because he owns this club that he owns all of us who work here, too. But as much as I’d like to tell him to shove it, I need this job.
I let out a long sigh. “Great. Just what I needed. Thanks for the warning.”
The lights on the stage are already on and I give an absent wave to Carina, one of the bartenders, as I pass. I drop my tote bag on the bench in front of my locker and tug my shirt out of my jeans. There’s nothing quite like the hustle and bustle backstage before a show. Undressing in front of other people is still a little weird honestly but after a few months working here, it doesn’t faze me like it used to. I never thought I’d be accustomed to the sight of half-naked girls walking around wearing nothing more than a thong and some pasties, but such is life.
This is my new normal.
“Are you almost ready?” My friend Sasha sits down on the wooden bench next to me.
As usual, she’s decked out in a long evening gown and her hair is styled in intricate little braids that frame her face perfectly. The smell of the hot lemon water she drinks before every performance wafts up from the small paper cup in her hand. She looks different tonight. Tense.
“I’ll be fine. They’re just boobs, right? Not like I’ll be showing them anything they haven’t seen before.” It’s kind of pathetic that I’m so worried about this. I’m just a waitress here so most of the guys aren’t looking at me.
“You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t bother you. I know you better than that,” Sasha declares.
The thing is, she’s right. It does bother me. I actually have nothing against nudity as long as it isn’t mine. Maybe if I had more confidence, or more cleavage, I think as I look down at my small chest, I’d be okay with this. Lou tried to convince me to get on stage when I first started working here but I shut that down early. I was blushing for the first week straight as it was just because of the short skirts we wear. No one wants to see me hyperventilate if I were to get on stage and undress.
There’s nothing sexy about cardiac arrest.
Sasha moves closer and puts her arm around my shoulders. For just a moment, I lean in. It’s been so long since I’ve had a comforting hug. Then I immediately feel guilty for the thought. It’s not like I’m completely alone in the world. I have Ivy.
“Okay, I have to confess.” Sasha squeezes my shoulder. “I did something. You’re probably going to be mad at me, but I don’t care.”
“You didn’t say anything to Lattimer, did you? I’ll get fired.”
She shakes her head, her long black braids swinging gently around her face. “No, I didn’t talk to that little weasel. But he might wish I had once my friends get done with him.”
“Well, it’s a little more than that. I’m understating the gravity of the situation when I say that my son refuses to meet with me. It would be more accurate to say that he loathes my very existence and would prefer to pretend I don’t exist. If you can change his mind, then I’ll consider a million to be a bargain.”
“There’s a chance that given some time he’ll come around on his own. Don’t you think you should just, I don’t know, wait?”
“Time. The one thing I don’t have any more of.” His eyes cloud and I remember then that he is sick. And I feel an unmistakable tug of pity.
“I’m not sure what you think I can do. But I’ll ask him.”
“He’ll respond better if he doesn’t know the suggestion is coming from me.”
It feels so sleazy, the thought of trying to convince Tank to come see his dad without him knowing why. It’s not like we’re friends. How would I even bring that up in conversation? But we’re talking about a lot of money. It could mean the difference between working two jobs for years trying to earn tuition money and going to college in a few months. It could mean moving out of the house and into a place of my own. No more struggling.
No more Jon.
“I realize this is unorthodox but this is a job offer, Miss Shaw. No more, no less. It’s a legitimate job offer that can give you the money you need to fulfill your dreams. Veterinary school is expensive. You could finish your studies with no debt hanging over your head. No worries. Think of the possibilities.”
His eyes gleam and there’s a maniacal light in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. Suddenly, it’s all too much. Too much pressure and too much to think about.
“I’m not sure I can do what you’re asking. Not that Tank would listen to me anyway. I’ll let you know.” I set Buddy gently on the couch before I stand and gather my things.
He dips his head in acknowledgment. “Fair enough. All I want you to do is try. There’s no harm in that.”
Later that evening I’m still chewing on Mr. Marshall’s offer. I don’t have much time to think though because my car wouldn’t start again and I had to ask Ivy for a ride to my second job.
Now I’m late.
As I trot across the gravel parking lot toward the back entrance of the Black Kitty, my tote bag bounces against my side. The neon sign isn’t lit up yet. Without the blinking sign it could almost pass for a regular bar instead of a strip club.
Lou, the bouncer, holds the door open for me. “He’s in a mood tonight. Try to stay out of his way. And he told me to tell you the new uniforms start tonight.”
He is Paul Lattimer, the owner of the Black Kitty and a first-rate dirtbag. He thinks because he owns this club that he owns all of us who work here, too. But as much as I’d like to tell him to shove it, I need this job.
I let out a long sigh. “Great. Just what I needed. Thanks for the warning.”
The lights on the stage are already on and I give an absent wave to Carina, one of the bartenders, as I pass. I drop my tote bag on the bench in front of my locker and tug my shirt out of my jeans. There’s nothing quite like the hustle and bustle backstage before a show. Undressing in front of other people is still a little weird honestly but after a few months working here, it doesn’t faze me like it used to. I never thought I’d be accustomed to the sight of half-naked girls walking around wearing nothing more than a thong and some pasties, but such is life.
This is my new normal.
“Are you almost ready?” My friend Sasha sits down on the wooden bench next to me.
As usual, she’s decked out in a long evening gown and her hair is styled in intricate little braids that frame her face perfectly. The smell of the hot lemon water she drinks before every performance wafts up from the small paper cup in her hand. She looks different tonight. Tense.
“I’ll be fine. They’re just boobs, right? Not like I’ll be showing them anything they haven’t seen before.” It’s kind of pathetic that I’m so worried about this. I’m just a waitress here so most of the guys aren’t looking at me.
“You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t bother you. I know you better than that,” Sasha declares.
The thing is, she’s right. It does bother me. I actually have nothing against nudity as long as it isn’t mine. Maybe if I had more confidence, or more cleavage, I think as I look down at my small chest, I’d be okay with this. Lou tried to convince me to get on stage when I first started working here but I shut that down early. I was blushing for the first week straight as it was just because of the short skirts we wear. No one wants to see me hyperventilate if I were to get on stage and undress.
There’s nothing sexy about cardiac arrest.
Sasha moves closer and puts her arm around my shoulders. For just a moment, I lean in. It’s been so long since I’ve had a comforting hug. Then I immediately feel guilty for the thought. It’s not like I’m completely alone in the world. I have Ivy.
“Okay, I have to confess.” Sasha squeezes my shoulder. “I did something. You’re probably going to be mad at me, but I don’t care.”
“You didn’t say anything to Lattimer, did you? I’ll get fired.”
She shakes her head, her long black braids swinging gently around her face. “No, I didn’t talk to that little weasel. But he might wish I had once my friends get done with him.”
