“I had to help out a friend,” I say vaguely, because less is more around here. The only thing Kota or anyone else needs to know about me is what made it into my paperwork. “I’ll work extra tables to make up for it before I go on.”
“No tables,” Kota says, his bald head shining as he shakes it. “I need you on the floor tonight.”
I shrug and nod apathetically. All the girls have to trade off throughout the week, so since I’ll be working the floor tonight it means someone will have to work the floor for me somewhere down the line. I guess this means I’ll be changing my outfit tonight. “Who called off?”
“Christine. She’s got the flu or some shit.”
“Hope she isn’t prego,” I say with a laugh, but then I catch the scowl on Kota’s face letting me know the joke wasn’t appreciated, and it evaporates. Getting pregnant is the kiss of death. It’s a guaranteed boot in the ass. Another incentive for me to keep it in my pants, so to speak.
Straightening his posture, Kota throws open the door, allowing the pounding music to flow inside. “Light a fire under it, Pussycat. It’s going to be a busy night.”
FIVE
Kota wasn’t kidding when he said it was going to be busy. I’ve been racing around all night, and my body aches everywhere. After dropping drinks off at my last table, I tuck my tray behind the bar and wave my hand overhead to gain Kota’s attention.
“I’m taking my break!” I shout, and when he nods and turns back to filling drinks, I head for the bathroom. The first thing I do is rip off my heels and stretch my toes. It feels so damn good, I moan. This job is definitely for the young, because I can’t fathom still being here in ten years. After this year is done, I’ll be moving on to bigger and better things.
I take my time freshening up, patting myself down with damp paper towels to cool my heated skin, and running my fingers through my hair. As I’m finishing up, the door to the women’s restroom screams open, and I look up to see Bernice poke her head in.
“There you are,” she says, sounding relieved. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Kota says you’re needed in the VIP lounge.” Her brown eyes flicker with amusement as her gaze drops to the foot I have planted in the sink basin.
It’s the best relief I can get from those damn shoes, and I don’t feel the least bit bashful about it. I lift my chin toward the paper towel dispenser, and Bernice rips a couple off, stretching her arm out to hand them to me.
“Did he say who it was?” Sometimes we get regulars. They’re easy, because they’re predictable.
But Bernice’s scrunched nose tells me I won’t like her answer. “Nope.”
I sigh. After the day I’ve had, I’m not in the mood to entertain. “Well, do you know who it is?”
“Nope.”
Great. This guy had better leave a big tip. “Let him know I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Will do, but a word to the wise, I wouldn’t keep him waiting too long. The guy looks important.” With a small smile, she ducks back out.
I sigh as I dry my feet and slip them back into the six-inch platforms. They pinch as I leave the bathroom, and I barely manage to paste on my happy face. I try to look on the bright side. I guess I’ll get to put on a show after all.
***
The VIP room is located at the end of the single dark hall located off the main floor and to the right of the bar. It’s lit by diffused neon pink lights and each of the six doors leading up to the last is closed, indicating that they’re all in use. As I reach the end of the hall, I feel a flutter of nervous anticipation. I never know what I’m going to find once I open that door. One man, or two? Hot or not? There’s no telling, but Bernice’s words about him looking important give me a small ray of hope. Whatever the situation that I am about to walk into is, it’s going to be more intimate than walking out onto that stage. And it’s going to pay even better.
My hand shakes as I turn the handle and walk inside.
The room is larger than the rest, big enough for a party of twenty to fit into the bank of red leather booths forming a semi-circle along the far wall. Kota claims the leather gives customers the impression that the establishment is classy. In reality, anything looks classy when the only source of light comes from a fluorescent tube. It’s just easier to clean up the mess when they’re through. A circular stage with four gleaming silver metal poles sits in front of the booth and takes up the majority of the center of the room. The wet bar to my right ensures that bachelors can get shitfaced while they have their dicks teased, but tonight, it stands empty.