FOR ABOUT THE hundredth time, I was rethinking what I was about to do, but I had to just shove that aside and get on with it. The club looked a little different at night, like it came alive once it was dark, clearly the place to be. The parking lot overflowed, all the way into the vacant parking lot of an abandoned restaurant across the street, and a line was forming at the main entrance. So. Many. People.
Breathe, Monroe.
I willed myself to open the door of my car and headed around back to the entrance that the employees used. After Randy finished my paperwork the same day that he hired me, he then set me up for some training. He didn’t want me intimidated by all of the customers, so he had me come in during the day when the club was closed so one of the other cocktail waitresses could show me the ropes.
It was pretty simple, really. My first shift was the main thing that worried me. I had never been to a strip club in my life and didn’t know what to expect. Judging by the scraps of material I’d stuffed into my bag, there would most likely be a whole lot of bared skin and a bunch of tongues wagging.
Honey, the girl that trained me, wasn’t going to be there either, so I wouldn’t know anyone but Randy. Honey seemed very sweet, a lot like her name. I asked her if it was her real name since I heard that most strippers went by fake ones, but she just giggled and continued with my training. Honey did inform me that she switched back and forth from the stage to cocktail waitressing, so I could only assume that it was a stage name.
Shit.
Was I supposed to have come up with a stage name, too? Wait, I wasn’t actually going to get on the stage. I would be okay. By the time Randy would be ready to throw me up there, I would have a new job, and not need to worry about that.
I was relieved to find the back door open, just as Honey informed me it would be, and quickly hurried in and changed. My feet came to an abrupt stop as soon as I realized every eye in the break room was focused on me.
“Hi,” I managed to squeak out, one hand flailing wildly as I waved, feeling like a complete idiot. I was met with a very mixed welcoming. Some of the girls went back to applying what looked to be very heavy makeup; some gave me the stink eye, probably thinking I was new competition. Only one actually gave me a sweet smile.
“I’m new here. Tonight’s my first night. I’m really nervous because I’ve never done anything like this before in my life. I’ve never been to a strip club because it’s just not my type of thing. Not that it’s a bad thing, just not
my
thing. I lost my job and now I can’t find another one and I was about to get evicted from my apartment, leaving me pretty much desperate, so….” Several mouths dropped open as they listened to my rambling so it seemed I had offended people. Great.
Lips zipped, Monroe.
So I decided to head in the direction of the only nice looking one there.
I reached out a hand but the woman wrapped me in a tight hug, rubbing my back soothingly before slightly pulling away. She was probably the only one that didn’t have a boatload of makeup on, but her almost all natural look still had her looking the most gorgeous. Her long blonde hair cascaded down around her bare shoulders in soft curls that I was completely jealous of. And her body. I’d never really been into staring at other women’s bodies, but I had a feeling she was very popular here. Why did she work at a strip club? The woman belonged on the cover of
Sports Illustrated
or something.
“Oh, aren’t you just a doll? I’m Vanessa. Don’t worry,” she whispered into my ear, “they’re not as scary as they look. Well, most of ‘em.”
Vanessa introduced me to each of the girls, explaining that there were a few that were currently on stage, so I would meet them later. She gave me a short tour of the back rooms, where I could change, and told me what door to use if I needed a quick smoke break. Apparently, it was a popular hangout for the employees all night, but not one that I needed to use since I didn’t plan on picking up the habit.
“I don’t smoke either,” she explained with a bright smile, “so welcome to the club, I think we’re the only two. I need to get out there. Do you need help with anything else?”
I looked down at my tiny shorts that I’d paired with an equally tiny shirt, which barely contained my boobs. I never realized my boobs could actually look so big. “Um…well, what about makeup? I really don’t wear any but it looks like everyone here kind of….”
“Slathers it on?” Vanessa replied with a grin. “It helps on stage with the lights and everything. But you don’t need to go crazy, just wear what makes you feel good. Do you have anything in your bag?” I nodded my head and handed over the bag, which she rifled through for a few minutes before pulling out a single tube of bright red lip gloss. I wasn’t even sure where it came from in the first place. It was something Amelia probably left in my bathroom after a night of getting ready at my apartment before going out. “Here, this will look perfect with your coloring. Other than that, I think you’re good. Let me guess? Randy hired you because of your whole
innocent
look. Am I right?”
“I guess.” I shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve never really thought of myself that way, but if it makes me money, I’ll roll with it.”
She giggled loudly. “That’s the spirit. Oh, here’s Bianca, the head server. She’ll tell you what exactly you need to do and what tables you’re in charge of.” She gestured to a tall girl with caramel-colored skin and short brown hair, a rainbow of chunky streaks running through it. She was headed my direction, glaring. “Good luck with that one,” Vanessa added before scurrying toward the stage.
“So you must be
Monroe
?” She spit out my name like it left a bad taste in her mouth. “Let’s get a few things straight. I’m not here to babysit you, so do your job and do it right. If you have a problem with a customer, tell one of the bouncers, not me. I have my own tables to worry about. Randy may have hired you, but I can still fire you, so don’t screw up. Got it?”
“Got it,” I replied, following after her down a narrow hallway that led through a small kitchen and into the bar area. My eyes took a minute to adjust to the dark club, my ears overwhelmed by the roar of the noise blaring from the speakers combined with everyone trying to talk over each other. Bianca didn’t stop to wait for me, and though I’d just met her, I didn’t really expect her to.
“Okay, you have that area over there,” she explained, indicating a section near the stage that looked to be the most crowded. It seemed like she was trying to make me fail on my first night by throwing me into the biggest pack of wolves possible. Well, I would just have to prove her wrong. I was always a hard worker, no matter what the job, and this was no different. “Take that tray and I’ll follow you over to get you started.” She pointed to a tray loaded down with all sorts of different drinks, half of which I didn’t recognize—not a good sign—but I scooped it up, using the awesome balancing skills I acquired working at a small diner back home.
Bianca handed out each drink when we got there, making small talk with the group of guys seated at the table. There was an assortment of them and surprisingly, none of them looked all that skeezy. I assumed every guy that showed up to a strip club had to be some loser, looking for a good time and naked girls to throw dollar bills at, but these guys were dressed for a business meeting. It was a little strange.
When there were three drinks left, Bianca began handing me the remaining ones, pointing to each owner of the drink and offering them a flirty smile, which they all appeared to ignore. “And that one goes to him. I have my tables to get to, you’re on your own.”
I meant to say thanks just as I reached out with the last guy’s drink, but the word didn’t leave my mouth because suddenly, something nudged my elbow. I glanced to my side, catching a glimpse of Bianca smirking triumphantly before turning in the other direction. Everything went in slow motion from there. The drink that was in my hand, quickly left it, and the contents flew into the air, landing on the owner of the drink’s lap, drop by drop. My mouth fell open as his hands loudly smacked down on the table, his back pushing against the booth.
Freaking awesome.
And somehow I knew Bianca didn’t just accidentally “bump” into me.
“I am so sorry!” I pressed one hand to my mouth, frantically scanning the table until my eyes landed on a pile of those tiny cocktail napkins. They would have to do. I quickly scooped them up and rushed to dry the spilled drink, dabbing at the soaked material of his pants. I froze for just a second when he breathed in sharply close to my ear, the warm air whooshing back out to slightly tickle my cheek, causing me to visibly shiver and embarrass myself even more. I didn’t realize exactly
where
my hands were until his fingers wrapped around my wrist, brushing against the sensitive skin, which sent a spark up the length of my arm and I jumped in place. Several of the guys seated at the table snorted, making my cheeks burn at the thought of what it looked like I was trying to do.
“It’s all right.”
Oh my goodness
. The words rolled off his tongue smoothly, so simple, yet tiny goosebumps prickled across my whole body. He had a full-blown, deep, southern accent. The kind that could make any girl’s panties wet at just the sound. Amelia always teased me when I told her I was jealous of her drawl. It wasn’t as noticeable and she was convinced she didn’t even have one, but I could tell a local from the transplanted students so easily.
I yanked my tingling hands away, pushing at my hair as I straightened myself back up and met a pair of warm brown eyes that focused intently on me. His heated gaze turning me hot and cold all at the same time, as I stared back at him in utter fascination. I hadn’t noticed him before when Bianca handed out the other drinks because I was too busy paying attention to what everyone was drinking. Still, I don’t know how I missed him. I felt this pull toward him, the rest of the guys seated at the table fading into the background.
His dark brown hair was pushed away from his forehead, revealing eyes that had my stomach doing flip-flops while simultaneously sending my heartbeat skyrocketing. His deep tan made his teeth almost blindingly white, but I noticed a few on the bottom were slightly crooked, making him seem just a little less perfect. One leg stuck out from underneath the table, like there wasn’t enough room for him, so I could tell he was tall, and he looked to be pretty fit underneath his expensive looking suit, tailored to fit his body very nicely. My eyes dropped to his broad chest, his dress shirt fit oh-so-snugly. Yes, very nice indeed. Luckily, I resisted the urge to fan myself from the sudden heat wave this man was throwing in my direction, probably without even knowing it.
I don’t know why I let myself get so worked up. He wasn’t really my type, more like Amelia’s; she could totally get a guy like him, not me.
But back to the situation at hand. Spilling a drink on a customer my first night was not a good start. I needed to figure out some way to make sure that he didn’t complain about the horrible new waitress. First thing’s first, I had to shut my gaping mouth; I looked like a freaking moron. I cleared my throat, swallowing down the excessive saliva that had pooled from staring at the man in front of me, thankfully it hadn’t dripped out of my mouth and caused me to drool all over him.
“I’ll get you a new drink right away. I’m so sorry. Tonight’s my first night and my fingers must’ve slipped because I’m so unbelievably nervous. I’m sure you know what I mean. Well, probably not. I bet you never get nervous. Why would you?” He squinted his eyes slightly, like he was trying to figure out my babble. Most of the time I didn’t even understand what I was saying when I started rambling. I took a deep breath and tried to focus. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“How ‘bout I tell you what I was drinking in the first place?” he suggested with a smirk and I blushed even harder, feeling like a complete idiot. He ordered a Jack Daniels on the rocks before turning his attention back to the men at the table, dismissing me, which was completely fine. The sooner he forgot about me and that whole situation, the better. I quickly headed to the bar and introduced myself to the bartender, who was at least helpful.
After delivering his new drink accident-free, I greeted the rest of the tables in my section, finding that nobody needed anything. So, I headed toward the back for a quick breather. I collapsed onto one of the couches and let out a loud sigh as I pressed my fingertips into my eyes. My feet already ached and the night had just begun. I felt the seat next to me sink in and I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to open my eyes.
“How’s it going out there, sweetie?”
Relief flooded my body that it was Vanessa, that is, until I realized my new frenemy Bianca was sitting directly across from me with a very satisfied look on her face.
“Not too great,” I answered, my eyes trained on Bianca. I wasn’t going to let her push me around. “
Somehow
I managed to spill a drink on my first customer.”
“Oh.” Vanessa looked back and forth between Bianca and me, obviously feeling the tension in the room. “Well, it happens. Don’t sweat it.”
Bianca shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t do it on purpose. It just
happened
to be Mr. Buchanan that the drink landed on. Oopsie.” Her evil smile said otherwise and I just didn’t get why she already disliked me.
Vanessa’s eyes widened. “Mr. Buchanan? You spilled a drink on
him
?”
“I guess. We didn’t really introduce ourselves. Well, my hand introduced itself to the front of his pants.” My cheeks burned at the memory. I couldn’t believe I basically gave the guy a hand job without even realizing it. He probably thought I was doing it on purpose, trying to get a good tip or something. I was so not that type of girl.
“Oh my goodness.” Vanessa slapped her hand over her mouth and Bianca giggled obnoxiously loud. For the first time in my life, I felt like bitch slapping someone.
“Who’s Mr. Buchanan? Is he a regular customer or something?”
“Oh no, honey,” Bianca answered between laughs. “He owns the place.”