Chapter 6

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Sam and I sit inside her car outside of Poison Ivy, the neon sign flashing brightly in the dark, illuminating the parking lot packed with cars.

Even though I figured out the bus route to get here, I was relieved when she offered to drive me to my first shift, our constant conversation a distraction from the trepidation I was feeling.

I fiddle with my hands, watching the clock on her dash as it strikes 8p.m.

“You’ll be fine, Evi!” Sam says encouragingly. “You’ve been waitressing for ages now… this isn’t any different!”

I look out of the car window. There is a throng of well-dressed men and a few scantily clad women standing in line waiting to be let in. I can see Greg checking IDs, with another bouncer beside him watching the crowd.

I take one last look in the car mirror, and someone I barely recognize stares back at me. The dark eye shadow and heavy black eyeliner make my eyes shine brightly, even in the dimly lit car. My skin is flawless, thanks to copious amounts of concealer, and my lips are a deep shade of red. I take a breath, willing myself to find the confidence I had in the changeroom earlier, as I open the car door and step onto the familiar gravel.

“Break a leg!” she says, looking at me with a combination of enthusiasm and worry. “And call me if you need a ride home!”

Having used the last of Rhett’s money on my dress earlier today, I thank her for the offer to pick me up before I walk away from the car and towards the club entrance.

The men in line stare openly at me as I make my way towards the front of the line, some even voicing their thoughts about my outfit with hoots of approval. Meanwhile, all my focus is on trying not to roll an ankle as I navigate wearing heels and walking on gravel. As I approach the front door, Greg looks up from the ID he’s in the process of looking at and stares at me intensely.

“You look good, Evi,” he says with a nod of approval as I approach him. I’m still unsure about my feelings towards him; his coldness from earlier in the week still fresh in my mind.

I nod, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Thanks, Greg,” I say as I look to the guy beside him.

“Hey, I’m Toni,” he says, breaking out into a huge smile, “it’s nice to meet you.” He reaches towards me to shake my hand, his palm rough and callused against mine. His skin is darker than the wood door behind him, and his smile is contagious. He’s well-built, though leaner than Greg, and the warmth in his dark brown eyes is undeniable.

“Toni, can you show Evi to her locker? Here’s the key,” Greg says, tossing a key to Toni, who in turn gestures for me to follow him.

Poison Ivy is a different place after the sun sets. The black floor shimmers under the dim lighting, reminding me of the surface of a lake on a calm night, and shadows hide the corners of the room. The place is alive, surging with raw energy and excitement. Music and chatter fills the space. It takes both my eyes and ears a moment to adjust to everything around me.

We make our way past the stage, where a svelte girl with long blonde hair grinds against one of the poles, naked except for a thong. She gives Toni a wink as he walks by. Toni smiles in return as desire briefly flashes across his face.

We walk into the locker room, the bright light blinding compared to that of the club. He shows me towards the lockers and gives me a key.

“Yours is number fourteen,” he says simply. “Make sure you keep your key safe cause I don’t have a spare. I don’t know if Mike mentioned it, but you’re free to keep your phone on you during your shift, just make sure you get your work done and no one is waiting for a drink.” He continues his speech. “You’ll always be bartending with someone, and never on your own. If you’re working a private party, make sure there’s always another staff member with you, at all times.” He continues seriously, “And never, under any circumstances, have sex with the clients. There are too many undercover cops around, not to mention you’ll be fired on the spot if Mike finds out.” He stops mid-sentence to look at me, my face not hiding the shock I feel at his words.

“I would never—” I stammer, but he cuts me off.

“It’s not that I think you’re going have sex with them,” he says mildly, “but sometimes they offer good money, and it can be tempting for you bartenders, especially since you won’t be making nearly as much as the girls on stage.”

“Oh.”

“Put your stuff in the locker and get behind the bar. Alex will give you a rundown of how things work out there. I’ll be out front with Greg if you need anything. Goodluck,” he says, and smiles at me briefly before turning around and walking out the door, back into the noisy club.

I take a moment to breathe, trying to calm my racing pulse. I’m nervous. What if I’m not cut out for this job after all? I close my eyes and breathe deeply.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Repeat.

I can do this.

I put my purse into my locker, tucking the key in my bra for safekeeping, my dress lacking the practicality of pockets. There’s a mirror on the back of the door, and I take one last look at myself before stepping out into the club. The blonde girl is no longer on stage; instead, a woman with fiery red hair has taken her place. The way she moves is mesmerizing, and it takes me a minute to remember I’m supposed to be behind the bar.

I walk away from the stage towards the bar, where a woman with curly blonde hair and a bright smile is rushing around, grabbing glasses, pouring drinks, and talking to guys who are waiting patiently for drinks. She makes it look easy, flawlessly doing everything at once without so much as breaking a sweat. Thanks to Mike’s warning, I’m not shocked when I notice what she’s wearing: A black balconette bra with a large satin bow on the front and frilly underwear to match.

She spots me hovering at the end of the bar and comes over to me, her smile broadening by way of greeting.

“Hi, I’m Alex!” she says happily, holding out a tattooed hand for me to shake. I take it happily, instantly relieved to be working beside someone so friendly.

“We’re going to keep it simple tonight, since it’s your first night here,” she says. “We’ll stay behind the main bar, so you can get an idea of what it’s like out here.” I get a better look at her as she’s talking and notice delicate tattoos scattered in various locations across her body. She’s simply breathtaking, and noticing how the men sitting at the bar stare at her, I can tell they would agree with me.

We move behind the bar, and she shows me how to work the cash register, where the drink list is kept, and the prices for everything, while simultaneously chatting up the customers and filling drink orders.

“Okay, now it’s your turn,” she says after she feels I’ve spent enough time watching her. She turns to the men at the bar, giving them a generous view of her chest as she leans towards them, their eyes tracking every move she makes.

“Take it easy on her, guys; it’s her first time.” She winks.

“Oh, don’t you worry, Alex, we’ll take good care of her!” a man shouts back, eliciting a roar of laughter from the men around him.

“I’ll have a beer, babe. Make it a Bud Light,” one says kindly. I get him his order, my movements slow and deliberate as my heart pounds nervously in my chest, and I place the cold bottle on the wooden bar in front of him. He hands me a fifty, and I quickly calculate his change, his eyes never leaving me throughout the whole exchange. I rack my brain quickly, double-checking my math and hoping I didn’t mess up, shifting nervously as I hand him his change.

“Thanks, babe,” he says with a wink, handing me a ten-dollar bill as a tip. I beam with pride, giving him my thanks before taking another order. The last few weeks have been eye-opening for me, and now, down to my last few pennies, a ten-dollar tip seems like a lot of money.

The night flows on smoothly, and each guy is the same. Asking for a drink, usually something simple, and occasionally striking up a conversation or commenting on my appearance. It’s so busy I barely realize there are naked girls on the stage, and to my relief, this really doesn’t feel much different from waitressing.

Sometime around midnight, the redhead dancer I saw earlier comes up to the bar, wearing a sheer robe over her lingerie.

“Hey, girl! Can you get me some water? I’m parched! Oh, and a shot of tequila, you know, to make this night exciting!” she says with a smile. “My stage name is Red, by the way.”

“I’m Evi,” I say, as she keeps talking while I busy myself getting everything she requested.

She winks at me as I hand her the drinks she ordered before disappearing into the throng of men sitting by the stage. She seems as friendly as everyone else I’ve met tonight, and my anxiety starts to become a distant memory as my confidence slowly bubbles to the surface.

I approach Alex as she hands an older man a whiskey on the rocks. “What did that dancer mean when she said her stage name is Red?” I ask quizzically.

Alex looks at me with an expression that makes me feel like a little kid again, unaware of the inner workings of the real world.

“A lot of the girls don’t want clients knowing their real names. It makes it easier for them to differentiate work from home life, and it’s also safer for them if they use an alias,” she explains kindly.

Oh. That makes perfect sense.I think to myself, nodding to Alex in thanks for the explanation.

“So, I take it you’ve never worked at a strip club?” she asks curiously.

“Nope, this is my first time. It’s actually pretty different than I thought it would be, to be honest.” Noticing her arched eyebrow, I continue, “Most of the guys have been easygoing, and I barely notice the girls dancing. It honestly feels similar to waitressing at my other job.”

“The guys can be nice here, and we get some regulars who are amazing, but just keep your wits about you and keep close to one of us or the security team and you’ll be fine.” She takes a breath and continues, “I guess no one has explained to you how the dancers work?”

I shake my head no in response.

Alex picks up two glasses, quickly filling them with water before handing one to me. She takes a sip before explaining the finer details of how everything works here. I’m surprised to learn that each dancer has three songs on stage to flaunt their stuff, trying to get customers interested enough to ask for a private dance behind the frosted glass doors, where they make most of their money for the night.

She continues talking, and I listen intently as I slowly sip on my water, the cool drink soothing my throat after straining my voice to be heard over the music.

“So, think you’ll last here?” she asks after she’s done explaining everything to me.

“I hope so,” I tell her honestly.

“You’ll find your groove!” she says encouragingly. “Just don’t get too involved with the dancers, and don’t spend too much time chatting to their clients. They hate it when they think they’re not getting all the attention in the room.” She winks at me, and we share a smile. It seems like the dancers are friendly enough, but I keep all of Alex’s advice tucked away for later use.

By 3 a.m. I’m exhausted, but the money I made in tips alone is worth missing out on sleep, and I smile at the idea of being able to afford a cab ride home and pay back Rhett. I retrieve my purse quickly, shoving my tips inside, and call a cab as I walk to the front of the club, now empty except for some staff members milling about. When I get to the entrance Toni is there.

“How was your night?” I ask him, the exhaustion in my voice betraying me.

“Pretty easy as far as it goes,” he says. “Only one scuffle out front, and an argument over a fake ID. How about yours? Make some nice tips?” he asks, and I think his interest is genuine.

“It was good,” I say earnestly. “I’m shocked by the tips, to be honest… it seems as though people are pretty generous here!”

Toni gives me a wide smile. “Look at you, jumping in the deep end and learning to swim.” He laughs. “Also, I think your thigh-highs helped with the tips.” He winks in my direction and shines his bright smile.

“Guess it did!” I say, my exhaustion temporarily forgotten as I smile back at him. I make a mental note to thank Sam for choosing my outfit.

We chat for a few more minutes until my cab arrives, and Toni waves goodbye as I slide into the back seat, kicking off my heels before we even start to pull away.

The car drives through the vacant streets, and I find myself lost in thought, and the events of the past seven hours feel surreal. Relief still lingers in my veins at how well my first shift went. Everyone was nice enough, and while I’m out of my comfort zone, I already feel confident thanks to Alex’s training. But even though this job pays well, and I enjoyed my first shift, I can’t help but feel a flicker of shame and guilt deep within me, knowing exactly what my parents would say if they found out about this. If they are disappointed about me pursuing art instead of law, they would be horrified at the idea of me bartending, especially at a strip club. I try to ignore the unsettling thoughts swirling in my head as the cab turns onto my street, hoping that this job is a step in the right direction when it comes to finally making it on my own.

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