6
I’m standing in the tiny restroom, leaning against the door. What have I gotten myself into? Should I just apologize and call it a night? Maybe I can find a better place to work? Is it really so important that I continue my studies, if it means working in a place like this? My head is filled with questions, as I try to shake it and set myself straight. Everything becomes clearer. I’ve gotten myself into some kind of hell. I don’t know if I’ll find another place to work anytime soon. Dropping out of school is not an option, so the way to my own private paradise is paved with prostitutes and pole-dancers. Why do you even care? I scold myself. You’re not here to make new friends. You’re not here to expand your horizons. You’re here only to get the money you need to make your dream come true.
Now, with my head being clearer, I can build in my head an equation with two variables. I close my eyes and write the two variables on an imaginary whiteboard in my head. The first is the number of workdays. The second is the daily pay. On the solution side I write the amount. 30,000 dollars. Now everything’s clear. I smile to myself. All I need to do now is to understand how my variables affect each other, and replace them with the amounts of money.
I walk out of the restroom and freeze as two girls with short, straight black bobs come in, both dressed in school uniforms. They lean over the sink and sniff some white powder. They straighten up, wipe off the remnants of the powder and turn around smiling widely at me. They’re identical twins.
“Hi there,” the one on the right says and rubs her nose. “Are you the new girl?”
“Yes,” I answer as I walk toward the door.
“Want something to help you get through the night?” The one on the left shows me a transparent capsule containing white powder.
“No thanks.” I don’t even try to smile back at them and I exit toward the bar area. Three more girls joined the two I met at the beginning of the evening, and now, once the twins sit down together at one of the tables, I count seven prostitutes. A man with glasses is sitting opposite the brunette, and the blonde is giggling with an older man.
“Elena,” Charlie calls and signals me to come to the bar. “Come on, get to work,” he scolds and I hurry to the table where the brunette sits.
“Would you like to order?” I ask her, and she bares her teeth and signals with her head that I should ask the man sitting opposite her. “Good evening, sir. Would you like to order a drink for you and the lady?”
“Sure,” he strokes the palm of her hand and she smiles at him seductively. “What do you recommend?” he asks, while his fingers slide towards her exposed elbow.
“How should I know what you like…” I mumble and they both turn to look at me surprised.
“Only joking!” I fake a laugh that sounds embarrassingly rusty. “I’m sure that an impressive gentleman like yourself knows exactly what he likes, and I have a feeling that you like nothing but the best.” He nods with pleasure and I stifle a giggle. “Then I’d pick the 19-year-old Glenfiddich for you.” He stops stroking the brunette’s elbow, removes his glasses and polishes them on the fabric of his shirt. I realize that he’s hesitating, as he surely knows the price of this particular drink.
Bizarrely, this amuses me. “And since you’re lucky enough to spend the evening with this beautiful lady, I suggest that you pamper her with this outstanding whiskey as well.” He lets out a short cough and turns pale. this turns this game even more fun for me. “And you’ve certainly found a real man who knows to choose nothing but the best.” I complete my compliments with a wide smile directed at the stunned brunette. “Is that it, then?” I turn my head to the man again, who has put his glasses back on.
“Umm…yes…maybe…just…” he stutters, and I place my hand on his shoulder.
“I knew you’d pick something special.” I squeeze his shoulder and make my way back to the bar.
“Two glasses of 19-year-old Glenfiddich,” I say to Charlie, and he looks at me surprised. “Come on,” I hurry him, “I have a lot of work.”
I repeat the same sentences, same compliments and the same smile at all the tables, until Charlie signals me to join him behind the bar.
“What are you doing?” He asks, and I don’t know if he’s angry or pleased.
“Waitressing.”
“How are you getting all of those cheap bastards to order our most expensive drink?” he asks curiously, and falls quiet as Scarface walks toward us. I get to see my new boss’s amazing body for the first time.
“Is there a problem?” he asks Charlie, as he sits down in front of us on a barstool and places his green file down on the black counter. I would guess Scarface is nearly two heads taller than me. He has an athletic build and his walk radiates self-confidence. His polo shirt is stretched tight over his pectoral muscles and biceps, accentuating them perfectly. His wide shoulders create the ultimate upper body V. I look at him in awe. If Pythagoras would have ever met him, his theorem would have been completely different.
“Yes,” Charlie answers and I shake my head and look at him alarmed. “Thanks to our Girl Scout here, we’re all out of Glenfiddich.” He picks up the empty bottle and Scarface’s eyes open wide in surprise.
“Have they paid you?” Scarface asks and narrows his cat eyes at me angrily.
“Of course,” I answer and take the dollar bills out of the small pouch around my hips.
“OK…” he answers and narrows his eyes suspiciously again, “then get back to work.” He sends me back and I see the tables slowly emptying as the customers start going upstairs. I clear the glasses, clean the tables and yawn.
“You’re not done yet. The night’s still young.” Scarface is standing behind me and his voice caresses my ears. I stifle another yawn and sit down in an empty chair. “Get out of that chair!” He raises his voice and I jump up panicked.
Two men enter and sit down casually at two separate tables. This time, since they don’t have dates, I avoid my regular flirtation and suggest that they start with a soft drink. I realize that they’re waiting for the evening’s first round to end and I sit down on the barstool. Charlie sits down with Scarface and I take advantage of the small break I have and look through one of my textbooks. Within seconds I am lost in explanations of electromagnetic fields, my magical and familiar world enveloping me safely.
“Elena, you have a customer.” Charlie yanks the book away from me. I fume silently and stand up.
“Where?” I look around at the tables. I can’t see anyone apart from the two men I’ve already served.
“Ralph.” Charlie points to Scarface’s table and I choke down a shocked cry. Ralph looks like a male version of Johanna, my roommate. His hair is light and his blue eyes are almost transparent, but unlike her, he doesn’t look fragile at all. His features are so hard that I can’t understand how he can open his mouth and actually move it to talk.
I approach their table but they are not looking at me. I feel tension cutting through the air, as if they are getting ready to arm-wrestle. “Would you like a drink?” I ask Ralph, surprised that his presence excites me.
“Something strong.” His German accent is stronger than Johanna’s. “I’m sure that a man like you knows exactly what he likes…” my voice trembles.
“I don’t like to be bothered,” he cuts me off rudely and looks at me for the first time. “What is this?” He asks Scarface without taking his eyes off me. “New merchandise?” There's a mocking tone in his voice and the excitement I felt a moment ago is completely gone.
“You call your girlfriends merchandise!” I blurt angrily and immediately shut my mouth panicked. His right eyebrow rises slightly and he bangs his fist on the table and laughs.
I sneak a look at Scarface and he looks amused as well. “Believe me, Liam,” The German is still laughing, “finally something has made me laugh today.”
“That something is Elena, our new waitress,” Scarface tells him calmly and winks at me with the eye on the angelic side of his face.
“It's refreshing to see a girl here who is not half-naked,” he says, looking me over with great interest. “I think that she is exactly what I need to survive tonight.” He rubs the back of his neck and stretches his mouth into a wide smile. “Want to go upstairs with me?” he asks, motioning with his head toward the staircase.
I hold my breath.
“She doesn’t work upstairs,” Scarface says in a hard tone. “Tell her what you want to drink and let her get on with waitressing.”
I can’t tell if I am flattered or shocked by this man’s proposition.
“You said that about the one who was here before her,” Ralph is still smiling while he talks. “And fact is, she made a different choice.”
I really don’t feel flattered anymore. I 'm appalled.
“Elena,” Scarface says to me, “Bring him a glass of Johnny Gold.”
“Wait,” Ralph says and grabs my arm, his touch gives me the chills.
“Don’t touch me!” I say firmly and he drops his hand. “If I haven’t given you permission to touch me, you can’t.”
I don’t wait for his reaction and stalk off to the bar. Charlie, who has been watching from a distance, tries to smother a smile. “The animal wants Johnny Walker,” I say and close my eyes for a moment. If I can just rearrange all the data in my head again it will be easier to deal with everything that’s happening here. Within seconds, it’s all laid out again on my imaginary whiteboard and I nod with satisfaction.
I return to the table, place Ralph’s drink in front of him and immediately take a step back.
“You amuse me,” Ralph says and leans back comfortably on the leather seat. “So how much would it cost to get permission to see what's under all this fabric?” he points at my cotton dress.
“Leave her alone.” Scarface sounds impatient. The German pulls some bills from his pants pocket and puts them down on the table. “Thirty dollars. Will you come upstairs with me?”
His insulting suggestion makes me laugh out loud. “I might consider it if you added three zeros.” I am still laughing and he looks shocked. He takes a sip of his drink and puts the glass down on the table. A few drops spray on the smooth surface and I go over to the bar, take a cloth, and come back to clean them, and place a new paper napkin by the glass.
“Get me another,” he says harshly and points at his empty glass. I leave right away and when I return I see that they're both looking at the page with the names and numbers.
“The Poles have a 120,000 dollars debt,” Scarface says to Ralph, pointing at the page.
“123,000 dollars,” I say and turn pale as they both stare at me. “I’m sorry,” I mutter in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to interfere.”
They both look back at the table and nod at each other. “123,000 dollars,” Scarface corrects himself and signals me to leave.
I go back to the bar. More men are entering and I can hear footsteps on the staircase as well. The men that I served at the beginning of the evening are all coming down, one after another, with satisfied expressions on their faces as they walk towards the exit. Several minutes later the girls come down as well. They’re wearing the same clothes they did earlier, and they go to the restroom together. Once again, they come out with glazed expressions, sniffing and rubbing their noses. Every girl sits down at a different table as each new man sits down next to a girl they want to be entertained by. Some entertainment. I fight down the rising nausea and go back to waitressing, using the same tactics that was so successful earlier. This time I suggest a different expensive drink, and once again I'm nailing it.
When I put the drinks down on the blonde and her new customer’s table, I see that she is smiling oddly, more artificial than before. The man’s fingers are pinching her arm. Her face tightens for a moment and then her smile reappears.
“That’s how I like it. Rough,” the chubby, bald man says with satisfaction and pinches her again. I cringe.
“I like it like that too,” she says, managing to keep the smile on her face. I stare at her in disgust. “Get out of here,” she whispers quietly, and I get a hold of myself and escape back to the bar.
It has nothing to do with me. I shake my head hard, trying to get rid of thoughts about what will await the blonde upstairs.
The room empties again, and I use this time to look through my textbooks again. An hour later the room fills up again and I start to feel exhausted.
I go over to the twins table and place glasses of wine, with napkins.
“Who are my bitches?” The handsome young man sitting with them asks suddenly, and my fingers clutch around the third napkin. He leans toward one of them and grabs her chin. “Who?” he raises his voice.
“We’re your bitches,” they chorus together and giggle.
“Right answer.” He pulls the napkin from me and wipes his forehead. “You just remember that I paid a lot of money for you to say that when you’re sucking my di…” A moan escapes my throat and he falls silent. All three of them are looking at me in horror. I mutter a quick apology and make my way back to the bar. It has nothing to do with me, I recite myself over and over and continue serving drinks. This time I don’t linger at any of the tables.
When the third round is over, no one else comes into the bar.
The girls sit around the tables and chat cheerfully as I bring each one of them the drink she asked for. They don’t invite me to join them or try to talk to me. The large steel door leading to the dance club opens, and Carly and Mike join Scarface and Ralph at the round table. Several minutes later Tommy joins them as well. It suddenly seems as if the evening is only beginning, but I am so tired that I can’t even hide my yawns that are growing rapidly.
“All clear!” the bouncer shouts from the entrance. The girls leave, and so does everyone else except Ralph and Scarface. They say goodbye with a handshake and as I'm cleaning the last table Ralph stops next to me.
“You really do amuse me,” he says with a smile, looking so fresh and energetic as if he’s just woken up after a good night’s sleep, “and I do love challenges.” He taps on the table in front of me and leaves.
“Liam, I’m going!” Charlie shouts from the bar and waves goodbye to me. “Girlie, you did good today,” he calls out and disappears behind the heavy front door.
I put my cleaning cloth down on the bar and pick up my backpack. “I’m leaving too.” I walk over to Scarface’s table and he raises his eyes from the file and looks at me.
“Elena, sit down with me for a minute,” he asks, and I collapse on the seat opposite him. “You did a great job today,” he says kindly and I'm hypnotized by the angelic side of his face. He is so beautiful from this angle….
“Thanks,” I answer with satisfaction and yawn. “My tips weren’t bad, either.” I wave a wad of bills in front of his face.
He studies me curiously. “How did you manage to memorize the menu in less than a minute and calculate the total sum of the debts so quickly?”
“I have a phenomenal photographic memory.” I put my hand over my mouth and yawn again. “It’s a rare phenomenon but does exist. I’m proof of that. I just need a quick glance and the data is locked inside my head, forever.” I run my hands through my hair and see that he is staring at me in wonder. “And as for the quick calculations, that’s just a skill that I've developed, and helps me in my studies.” I stand up and smooth down my dress.
“Don’t come back tomorrow!” His tone changes and becomes aggressive, I stare back at him in confusion.
“But I thought that…”
“This is not a place for you,” his voice softens.
“But the money is good and I really, really need the money.”
“Elena,” he stands up in front of me and I raise my head, and again, my eyes are flitting between the beastly side and the angelic side of his face. “This is the worst place to be in when you need money.” He takes the file off the table and disappears upstairs.