Charisma
THIS MUST BE what they meant when they talked about titty bars.
When I came in for the interview, this place looked nothing like this. I knew that it was a bar so I shouldn’t have expected some quaint, docile establishment. But I wasn’t expecting girls to be in thong bottoms, bikini tops and fishnets. Their outfit was literally ass and titties.
I’m not doing that shit.
I thought I was racy with my shirt tied behind my back exposing my stomach and some cleavage with my fro picked out but I was clearly wrong.
I looked damn near demure compared to these women and the liquid leggings that I’d paired with my boots weren’t going to attract the kind of attention these women got.
Which wouldn’t normally be a bad thing if I didn’t need the tips.
Proverbial Catch-22.
A glance around at the women getting ready had me wondering if this place doubled as a strip club and I was just none the wiser to what the hell actually went on here after dark.
Maybe I’m more of a day shift kinda girl.
I needed this job. Far too much to simply walk out and never look back. Despite my gut churning with every warning known to man, I put my bag in an empty locker and secured the lock on it.
“Not Fresh Meat looking like she’s lost.”
One of the other girls who was basically wearing dental floss grinned at me. It wasn’t in a mean way, but almost like she pitied me. I ran my hand over the edge of my ‘fro attempting to keep my nerves down.
“It’s my first night. I guess I am a little lost.”
I’d often been told that I was too nice.
My kind-hearted nature was because I was something most people couldn’t understand: a whimsical Black girl.
I marched to the beat of my own drum and never bothered conforming to anyone’s standards for me but my own.
My father said it was my artist’s nature and my mother said I was a contrarian.
I was grateful that they never tried to change me despite how I was sure I worked their nerves.
Even now my whimsy was painted on the tips of my hair as the purple tint I’d added simply because the color was my favorite and made me happy.
Seeing that I wasn’t going to give her the fight she was looking for, the woman eyed me up and down like I was something foreign before she spoke again.
“You’re going to need to be on your feet working here, honey.
Nobody is gonna be able to look out for you.
We’re too busy looking out for ourselves.
If you’re not into the type of stuff that happens here, you need to keep your head down, make your drinks and stay silent. ”
That seemed like a friendly warning but I wasn’t sure of what.
Her words held weight and information I hadn’t been privy to before.
Why did I need to look out for myself and what kind of stuff happened here?
Damn, maybe they were doing drugs. Besides weed, I wouldn’t take part in anything like that.
I definitely wouldn’t be smoking some shit someone else rolled.
“I’m good on all that.” It was the only response I could give without additional information. And something told me the more I knew the more danger I would be in so I probably needed to keep my mouth shut.
Another girl who was slightly more dressed than Dental Floss looked me up and down cataloguing my every feature. “Nah, she’s exotic looking. If she’s too quiet it’ll only make it worse for her.”
They were talking about me like I wasn’t in the room and I had to wonder just how terrible the bouncers were in this place that the women who worked here knew better than to look to them for help.
And why aren’t we all running out the door?
That was actually a simple answer for me.
I was too stubborn to run back home like a failure.
I had lived my life the way other people wanted me to for so long that I was finally doing something that was just for me.
I’d quit my job, taken my savings and left my hometown behind so that I could start over in Texas.
I was unsure why this was the place that had drawn me in but it had.
A big city never called my name and the pace of Dallas was overwhelming.
I’d stuck to the outskirts of town and had come across the listing for a bartender on the local social media page.
The setup sounded beneficial to me. I could create during the day and work at night and hopefully make enough from both so that I didn’t have to crawl back home with my tail tucked between my legs.
Whimsy aside, I was still Black and I knew how to get shit done.
“I’m sure I’ll be good.” I gave them a smile that was infused with confidence I didn’t really feel. It apparently didn’t translate to them either.
They exchanged a glance before not Dental Floss spoke up. “You’ll be good if you stay behind the bar. Less risk of someone getting handsy and you running away like your ‘fro is on fire.” She tried to smile it off but there was genuine concern in her tone that screamed at me to heed her words.
“Sounds like a plan.”
“You new here?”
I glanced up at the man that was standing in front of the bar and gave him a quick nod. His accent meant he wasn’t from here. I was sure to most I had an accent myself. The smile on my face was practiced but I hoped it at least looked welcoming since so much of what I was doing depended on tips.
The flow of the bar hadn’t been out of the ordinary.
The girls flirted a lot and most of the clientele were men with a few women that seemed to float round and flirt.
They wandered around the space some coming in and out and others not staying too long.
Games were playing on the TVs mounted behind me but few people were paying much attention since the local football team had already played.
Basketball didn’t seem to be much of a big deal but I guess a bar had to have its staples.
I wasn’t sure how anyone could follow what was going on over the volume of the music.
The tips weren’t what I hoped but I could only assume that business would pick up as the night went on or we got deeper into the weekend.
The place was as dimly lit as any other bar that was attempting to create ambiance out of organized chaos.
Neon signs flashed unnaturally bright lights in areas that swallowed the beams. Despite the sign saying no smoking there seemed to be a haze that was permanently etched in front of my eyes.
I’d thought something was wrong with me at first but the more I blinked, the longer the haze was there.
Hanging between the bodies and the bar like smoke.
The unspoken aura of this place hung heavy despite the levity it floated around.
“First night. What is it I can get for you?” I had my hands on the bar ready to grab whatever beer or shot of whiskey he was interested in having.
I didn’t understand why they’d requested a bartender since the patrons were only interested in those two things.
Whether out of a bottle or from the tap, beer had been the one thing everyone had requested from the bar.
The girls who were circling around the room had bottle openers attached to their belts and I’d watched men pull them close just to use them.
“You just here ready to serve, huh?” He was watching me and in turn I observed every detail about him but that feeling in my gut said I needed to.
He wasn’t wearing a cowboy hat like a lot of the men here and he looked as though he’d been trying to affect the traits of a cowboy instead of being born with them or earning them through hard work.
No matter how well the locals or the men who worked on ranches tried to clean up, there were still traces of their workday all over them: dirty fingernails, a hat that was dusty or boots that couldn’t get quite clean enough.
But this man was pristine. His hands said that he didn’t do manual labor despite the broad build that had at one point been muscular.
“Well, yeah, it’s my job, right?”
The side of his mouth quirked slightly as he looked me up and down. Again. I was tired of everyone assessing me. As though my softness assured them there was a weakness they could exploit as long as they looked hard enough. “You’re right. Glad to see that you care about good customer service.”
His tone irritated me because I felt like he was implying something but couldn’t put my finger on it. Instead of feeding into whatever odd flirtation he was attempting I redirected his focus to what I could actually provide for him.
“It’s important to keep the clients happy. So what can I get for you?”
Flickering eyes took me in again from what he could see over the bar before he responded. “What do you recommend?”
“You look the type to like something that’s smooth and dark. A good whiskey straight.” I knew that I needed to upsell clients since the bar had to make money. He didn’t even look like he could handle drinking whiskey but giving him the impression I thought he could might make him a better tipper.
A huffed, amused sound came from somewhere deep and barely made it past his lips as he licked them. “It’s that what we’re calling it now? Bet, I’ll bite on a first timer. How much?”
“It’s twenty.”
“Twenty? Is that all? I’ll take a couple of hours then.”
He looked so shocked that I had to wonder if I had unknowingly promised him top shelf and I was about to get fired on my first night here. And what the fuck did he mean by hours?
“Umm, I don’t get it.”
The man’s eyes softened and he leaned forward as though he were going to impart some wisdom on me I desperately needed to hear. “Listen just cause you’re new doesn’t mean you have to sell yourself short.”
“What…what are you talking about?”
“I’m saying. The other girls might be more seasoned than you but shit,” he looked me up and down again before meeting my eye, “I’d at least do a couple hundred.”