10. - – Laura
CHAPTER TEN
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LAURA
Don’t be late. Don’t be late. No problem, I’ll be an hour early instead and panic a few more times before I step inside.
I make a mental to-do list as I go.
Hair. Nails. Outfit. Breathe.
I do a little hop, dance thing, and shake my hand out before tackling the wet mess of auburn hair hanging limply down my back.
Jasmine agreed to hire me, despite my barely six months of waitressing experience. She’d said to wear something comfortable that fits the vibe. I went with a pair of flat combat boots, fishnet stockings I’d forgotten I owned, ripped jean shorts, and a cropped band t-shirt.
I’m a sweaty mess by the time I’ve finished my hair and makeup. Slathering on another round of deodorant. I shake out the nervous energy and grab my purse.
“Going to the club?” Claire asked from the couch. I was hoping she was asleep, but I didn’t get that lucky.
“Yeah.”
“Have fun.” She said with a wink.
I narrow my eyes at her, trying to decide if she knows something I don’t or if she’s plotting my murder.
I slip into my car and try not to panic as I back out of the driveway.
If it weren’t so late, I’d walk, but even our small town has its share of creeps.
I pull into the back parking lot and park in one of the employee-only spots.
I didn’t expect to sit outside for forty-five minutes panicking.
I’ve dug my nails into my palms enough to leave little half-moon-shaped cuts.
The pain helps. My breathing evens out, and the stars behind my eyelids disappear.
The tension in my neck remains, but I’ve got enough control back to stand tall and stand up to the bully staring back at me in the mirror.
She’s mean, always berating me and reminding me of every single flaw I possess.
I’ve always fought to keep myself from spiraling into self-hate.
Sometimes, she wins, and I fall into the abyss.
I need to get out of this car before I can’t.
Jasmine told me to come in once I got the nerve to call the club.
She’d answered the phone and dragged more information out of me than I had planned to give.
I gave her my real name and everything. A fake name would only get me so far once paperwork was involved.
Laura Bates, substitute teacher by day, sex club waitress by night.
That thought makes me laugh. Claire has no idea what I’m planning.
There’s no way I could have told her I was going to the sex club to get a job.
But if this works, I won’t need to do summer school for extra income.
Until I get fired, that is… because, let’s be honest, no parent is going to want the sex club waitress teaching their kids, even if it's only as a substitute. Then again, maybe those parents are at Midnight getting freaky and won’t say a word when they see me…
I wonder which parents, either way, the club isn’t open today. It’ll just be Jasmine and me, I hope. The back parking lot and the five cars parked in a line prove me wrong before I can even get inside.
“Drake is going to have my head for this,” Jasmine said as I walked up to her. She asked me to text her when I arrived, and she’d let me in the back.
“Seriously,” someone said as we passed. It seems I’ve forgotten that only a few nights ago I showed my ass in this place.
Whatever. I’ll show Drake’s creepy ass what he’s missing, and then we can talk about unblocking his number.
“You are in luck. I’m not sure how you timed this right, but Drake isn’t here, and he might never be here tonight.”
We’ll go over some things about the bar and what's expected, then I’ll get you an apron, and you can chill with Mason and practice a little. We open for regular bar hours at eight.
“I didn’t realize you did regular bar hours.”
“Yep, private shows, demos, and more during non-club hours.”
How had they gotten this business approved in Gas City? Either Drake is rich or knows the right people. The thought dawns on me that on any night there could be members of my mother’s church group in here scoping out the sex club.
The bag I packed is vibrating like I’ve got a rogue vibrator in there. I know it’s probably Claire messaging me. Or Facebook is popping off. The Gas City page hasn’t been too crazy recently; it's due.