"We don't open for another thirty minutes," a redheaded girl with long-in-no-way-natural eyelashes said as she stopped in front of me. No one else seemed to notice me until her.
"I'm here to meet with Carey Jones," I told her.
She did a quick scan of my appearance and nodded. "Of course. This way."
Her hips swayed when she walked and the short skirt she wore barely covered her bottom. I imagined that got her a lot of tips. She was probably paying for her college. Or maybe she had someone she had to take care of too.
"He's in there. Knock and wait. He'll answer when he's done."
"Thank you," I told her, grateful she had stopped to help me.
"Yep," was all she said in return before leaving me standing outside Mr. Jones's office.
I knocked on the door and waited. I heard voices inside, and I didn't want to be rude by knocking again, but I wondered if they hadn't heard me. One voice sounded female and made a high-pitched noise that sounded a little . . . Odd to be coming from the office.
Before I knocked again, someone came to a stop beside me.
"You looking for Carey?" a tall guy with brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and bright green eyes asked.
"Yes."
He nodded then knocked loudly on the door. "You got company!" he yelled, then looked back at me. "Give them a minute to get dressed," he said as he turned and walked down the hall.
If I hadn't been nervous before, I was now. They were getting dressed. Which meant they hadn't been dressed. Which meant the high-pitched squeal I'd heard was exactly that-a high-pitched sex squeal. Maybe his girlfriend worked here. I had no problem with sex in the workplace. I just thought it was weird when Mr. Jones knew he had an interview about now.
The door finally opened and a tall, leggy woman with platinum blonde hair walked out. She ran her hand over her mussed hair and sauntered past me without even a glance.
"Come on in," the man inside said. I took a deep breath and entered the office.
I'd had sex only once in my life. It hadn't been enjoyable and I hadn't tried it again since. But I wasn't innocent. I had been to parties in high school. I'd been around sex. I knew what it smelled like. And this office smelled strongly of sex.
Carey Jones didn't appear to notice, or he didn't care.
He ran his hand through his thinning hair and gave me a once over much the same way the redhead had.
"You're uh," he glanced down at a piece of paper on his desk that looked creased from being sat on. "Beulah?" he said, then looked back up at me.
"Yes sir."
He grinned then. "Nice. You can read, write, and walk in heels, correct?"
Those were odd questions. "Yes."
"When can you start?"
"Uh, as soon as possible."
"Good. Tonight's not a good night for training. Monday nights are slower to learn the ropes. Be here at tomorrow night at eight. I'll have a uniform waiting for you. Size four?"
I nodded not sure if this was a joke or just this easy.
"I've got to handle a mistake with some ordering at the bar. So, unless you have any questions, take this application and consent form with you. Fill them out. Bring them with you tomorrow-and I'll need a copy of your driver's license."
"Okay," I said, taking the papers from him. Then I realized I had no idea what the pay was. If this would even be enough. "Do you know how many hours a week I'll be working and what I will make an hour?"
"I can work you as many as forty hours a week and as few as twenty-five. Your call. And hostess is paid twelve dollars an hour. You don't get tips like the servers so the pay is better. However, many times my hostesses get tipped for putting customers in the spots they want. That kind of thing. So, there is a way to make more."
This wasn't going to be enough, but where else could I get twelve dollars an hour? "Okay. Thank you," I answered. He gave me a creepy wide grin before leaving me in his office.
I walked out of his office with the papers in my hand. After taxes, I would make about $1500 a month. That's working forty hours a week. I needed more money. Or I could talk to someone at Among the Spanish Moss about a payment plan until I could figure out how to make more money. Maybe I could get Heidi a smaller room, if that was even an option. I had no idea. Portia had handled everything with the home.
I'd been so relieved to have somewhere for Heidi that wasn't a cardboard box on the street snuggled up next to me that I hadn't asked. Now, I needed to know. I had to figure this out. I should have been figuring this out from the start. Not just assuming Portia would always take care of things. I didn't have the excuse of losing Mom anymore. I'd mourned her. I'd cried myself to sleep many nights. I had to grow up now. She'd would have expected me to.
This job was going to be exhausting. I wouldn't have time to work three jobs. These two would take all my time. Tomorrow, I'd call and talk to the people at Among the Spanish Moss and see what could be done. If I had to, I'd find another home for Heidi. It would upset her and that would break my heart. But if it was impossible to keep her there, I didn't know what else to do. She couldn't be left alone while I worked and there was nowhere I'd make the money I had been making with the Van Allan's.
Someone, somewhere, was having a harder time than me. I could overcome this. I could make this work. I would not feel sorry for myself. Tonight, I may cry just a little. Then I'd be tough.
PORTIA WAS SITTING IN THE great room when I got home after eight o'clock. She looked at me with the same expression she'd had earlier. She hadn't expected any of this when she'd been looking forward to Jasper's visit. I wondered if she wished he'd never come. I imagine that was what she thought about most of the time now.
"What will you do?" she asked me when I entered the room. She didn't look at me. She kept her gaze fixed on her manicured nails.
"I'm going to work nights. I got a job working at a club. That still won't cover the place she's at, but I am going to talk to them about a cheaper room or possible payments."
"She can share a room for four thousand a month," Portia said lifting her head to look at me. "But that is still a lot. More than you can manage. How long do you think you can work two jobs? What happens when he has late parties and you have to work?"
I hadn't thought of that. It would be a problem. I wasn't sure how I could manage this. "Are we keeping Heidi a secret from him on purpose?" I asked. "Not that he should feel obligated to help me pay for her care, but maybe he would understand my need for a second job?"
She shrugged. "I don't know with him. His father was a cold man. He had no heart. No emotion. Often, he was cruel. I married him young and fresh off the farm. So sure I'd live this fairy-tale life I'd always wanted. The one I thought I should have been born into. I saw glittery things, luxury, and I wanted it all. But with it came a price. He changed me. I changed," she looked away from me.
Her gaze was now focused on the portrait that hung over the mantel. It was Jasper. A much younger Jasper. "He's so much like his father. He can be charming, but he's cold. I can't trust his actions. I've helped you all I can, and feel that I did my duty. You're not mine to worry over. Your mother knew that and she sent you here anyway. It's up to you now, so figure it out. This is your life. I have my own to deal with."
I stood there not sure what to say. There was nothing to say after that really.
There was only one question I didn't know the answer to. "Why did you help us to begin with then?"
She stood up. The linen pants she was wearing were now wrinkled from her sitting there for too long. She still managed to look elegant. "Because. I owed your mother for something that happened long ago. I've done my duty. If there is a God and he does care about our souls, I think he'll agree I fulfilled what was expected of me."
I can't say any of what she said made sense. I wanted more of an explanation. "But what did you owe my mother?"
Portia sighed as if she'd been wearied by my presence. "Nothing. Not really. She made a choice that led to where you are today. That's not my problem to fix. But she is gone now. I did a kind act for the dead. Nothing more."
She left the room before I could say more. A kind act for the dead? That was all this was? There had been moments when Portia seemed to care. That she worried about Heidi and me. But now I wondered if I had imagined those moments. That I'd made them up in my head. Wishful thinking.