Chapter 2 Not Very Private
Not Very Private
Heidi sat on her bunk at the Capitol Hill Backpackers and closed the privacy curtains.
She’d been in Denver for three days, and her efforts to find where Foxies had moved to was a bust. She logged in to her banking app.
The balance was perilously low. Since when did an uncomfortable bunk in a dormitory shared with eleven other people cost seventy bucks?
No amount of free happy hour wine could make up for that.
Her plan to eat big at the advertised complimentary breakfasts and maybe sneak some food into her pocket for lunch was a nonstarter as well.
Breakfast was sliced white bread with peanut butter or jelly, zealously guarded by a staff member who made sure no one took more than two slices.
The manager had shrugged when she’d asked if they wanted someone to work for a few hours in exchange for a free bed.
“Put your name down here.” He’d pushed a clipboard across.
“If we need someone, we work from the top down. First to answer gets the work.” There was half a page of names already.
Heidi had scrawled her name on the next blank line and added a smiley.
The hostel job board was similarly disappointing. Telephone sales, cold calling, or taking orders for a floral delivery service. Minimum wage, no commission. Another sales job that had promised a decent hourly rate turned out to be a phone sex line.
Heidi had thought she could give that a crack—how hard could it be?
But when the interviewer asked her to roleplay a scene where she acted the submissive virgin, even with the prompts and a script outline to follow, she kept giggling.
The lines were like something out of a bad porno.
“Oh, sir, you’re huge. How is that enormous cock of yours going to fit into my poor little pussy?
I’m so wet for you, but you’re so big, I won’t be able to take you.
” Heidi got through the lines with only a couple of snorts but then couldn’t stop laughing. “Do people really fall for that shit?”
The interviewer was silent for a moment. “Thank you, Ms. Lincoln. I’ve heard all I need.”
She didn’t get the job.
“Knock, knock. Heidi, you there? Are you asleep or on your way to your second big-O?”
“I bloody wish.” Heidi flung back the curtain and peered out at Lula, who had the bunk opposite. “What’s up?”
Lula’s hair fell forward over her dark face as she bent to stare at Heidi. “Girlfriend, they’re hiring for a bar on the southside of downtown. Tips and an actual hourly rate. They want a server and a bartender. C’mon, move your ass and get dressed. Open interviews are on now.”
Heidi didn’t move. “Is it a topless bar? A front for an illegal brothel? Or do they just have slime for management?”
“No to the first two. As for the third, most management are.” Lula held out a hand and, when Heidi took it, yanked her to her feet.
“We’re going to apply. If I don’t get it, it’s back to Oklahoma for me, to let my mom hover and sympathize and feed me chicken-fried steak and cornbread.
And I don’t want to go back.” She rolled her eyes.
“Okay. Let me get changed, then I’m with you.”
They took a bus to a part of the city Heidi hadn’t been before.
The LoDo lofts hadn’t spread out this far.
Houses were small and a bit shabby. She looked around the street as they walked to the bar, trying to imagine what it would be like after a late shift.
Maybe it would be okay. Maybe the bar organized rides for its staff, or maybe there would be someone to carpool with.
And, of course, she didn’t know where she’d be living.
The lack of dollars in her bank account flashed again before her eyes.
Who was she kidding? If they offered her the job, she was going to take it—at least for now.
Even if it was only to make enough to buy a cheap vehicle and get the hell out of town.
Find Serena and confront her, demand her money back.
Lula stopped outside a low brick building set back from the street. The Fly Inn had high-set, narrow windows. Anyone inside wouldn’t be able to see out—and vice versa. Was that a good thing? Or did it hide who knew what?
Lula pushed open the door and went in. Heidi followed.
The bar area was dark, with low lighting, even though it was barely eleven a.m. It was well worn, a locals’ place, rather than somewhere people went for a night out.
Two middle-aged Latino men nursed glasses of beer at the counter, and the only other customer was an elderly white man having a conversation with himself in one of the booths along the wall.
Timber flooring with dents and scratches.
A pool table with wear marks on the felt.
They went up to the bar and waited.
“Luis!” one of the men at the counter shouted without looking up from his beer.
A minute later, a skinny white man appeared, wiping his hand on a towel. Without a word, he poured two fresh glasses of domestic beer for the men at the bar, then turned to Heidi and Lula. “Whaddya want?”
Heidi smiled. “We’re here about the job ad. You want a server and a bartender?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Was he even old enough to drink? “I’ll get my uncle.” He disappeared.
“Jeez Louise,” Heidi muttered. “Should we get out while we can?”
Lula nudged her side. “Camera,” she muttered with a barely discernible tilt of her chin. “Smile. And this is okay. So far, at least.”
Heidi’s lips twitched. She was overreacting. She’d been in bars a lot worse than this in Australia.
“Ladies.” An older version of the skinny kid appeared and opened the counter to come around the bar. His gaze flicked over them from head to toe. “Hear you’re after a job. Got any experience?”
“I’ve waitressed in diners and sports bars in Tulsa and Stillwater,” Lula said. “Worked bar too. Done a bit of cooking—pizzas and wings, that sort of thing.”
“I’ve worked bar in Queensland, waitressed at weddings and events,” Heidi said.
The man grunted. “Australian accent?” At her nod, he said, “You legal to work?”
“I have a green card and social security number.”
“Will need to see your papers. You girls got transport?”
“Not yet,” Lula said.
“Week’s trial. Afternoon shift. If I take you on after that, you’ll get evening shifts too.”
“When do we start?” Lula asked.
“Today, if you want. Can get rid of my useless nephew. He doesn’t want to be here anyway.”
“What’s the pay?” Heidi asked.
“Eleven dollars an hour. Plus tips.”
Heidi hesitated. That was below the legal minimum in Denver. And it didn’t look as if there would be much in the way of tips. The two drinkers at the bar had a pile of silver in front of them. Did they even tip a dollar? “That’s low.”
“That’s what you get for your week’s trial.” The man hitched his pants up under his gut.
“And after that?” Was this just a scam to get low-paid workers? Would there be no job after the week’s trial?
“If you’re okay, you’ll get minimum wage, plus tips. You’ll do all right on evening shifts with the tips.”
It wasn’t as if she had much choice right now. At least she should earn enough to pay for her hostel accommodation. Her toes curled in her boots. It didn’t feel right, but it would do—for now. She glanced at Lula, gave the tiniest nod.
Lula turned to the owner. “We accept.” She stuck out her hand. “Lula Diaz.”
“Robert.” He shook her hand and turned to Heidi. “What’s your name, Aussie?”
“Heidi Lincoln.” She shook his hand. “Ready to work.”
“Good girl. I’ll get Luis to show you the bar. I’ll show Lula the kitchen and server area.”
“What about paperwork?” Heidi asked. “And when do we get paid?”
“You can do the paperwork after your shift. You’re on the clock now. You get paid at the end of the week.” He leveled a glare at her. “And there’s cameras here. I’ll see what you’re doing.”
Of course he would. Heidi suppressed a sigh. She just hoped she earned enough to get by while she looked for something else.