Taken by the Italian Mafia(4)

"I think it looks like a great place," the young woman replied. "I just  received my bartending certification, and I'm eager to get some real  world experience to go with it. Somewhere fast paced is definitely going  to be a good fit for me. I think The Avenue would be an incredible  match."

It was a job interview. Whitney stopped just short of the door, fingers  tightening against the plastic handles of the crate she carried. If they  were talking about bartending certifications, it didn't take a genius  to figure out where Liam wanted this new girl to work.

"Let's go over some of the finer details, then, to make sure you're  still interested. When you sign on, your job security depends on  performance. Sell lots of drinks, don't over pour, and make sure your  cash balances, and you've got a long career on your hands. If your  performance drops off, so will your hours. To start, I'm going to have  you working Thursday night alongside one of my best girls, Cassandra."

It was a blow Whitney knew was coming, but despite it, felt unprepared  for. Her lips parted in shock. For the last year she'd been working  Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. There was no way Liam was going  to pay an extra girl to come in and work when she and Cassandra had the  place on lockdown.

"Sounds good. What about dress code?"

"I don't tell my girls what to wear," Liam said, "but here's a tip -  show skin. It sells drinks better. A young body can push drinks like you  won't believe."

Whitney glanced down at herself. Even at a few months short of thirty,  she didn't look old. The black vest with grey pinstripes she wore  plunged into a sharp V at the bust and propped her breasts up without  use of a bra. The vest revealed her tight tummy and cute navel and the  curve of her hips. A pair of skinny jeans took over to cling to her  fantastic thighs and killer butt. The girl on the other side of the door  had to be stunning if Liam thought she was over the hill. Whitney  needed to see her.         

     



 

Very carefully, she moved towards the door to peak into Liam's office.  The tiny gap between the door and the door frame only permitted Whitney  to see a narrow sliver of the scene - but it was enough. The girl in  question sat with her back to the floor, long black hair falling in  waves down her back. Whitney didn't get a look at her face, but if it  matched her body, the girl was a solid ten. Model skinny, but with hips,  hair that Whitney would kill for, and from the little she could see, a  killer sense of fashion made her the full package. Her skin was a shade  lighter than Whitney's, and Whitney couldn't help but keep coming back  to that fact. Liam didn't have many black girls on staff. Was she too  dark for him? The thought stung.

Unable to take any more, Whitney moved away from the door and rushed for  the kitchen. She always knew she had a shelf life as a bartender in one  of New York's hottest clubs, but now that her expiry date was fast  approaching, she wasn't ready. This wasn't how her career was supposed  to end. What was she going to do now?

The swinging doors that led into the kitchen admitted her without a  fight. Darren, the dish washer, sat on the counter, scrolling through a  feed on his phone. When the doors opened he looked up and was about to  jump down when he saw that it was Whitney and not the boss.

"Whit. Sup? You're not looking too hot right now."

The shock of confirmation was beginning to wear off, leaving her feeling  sick. It would start with Thursday nights being stripped away, and then  Friday, until the pittance she was making wasn't enough. Whitney didn't  live in a high rise condo - she had a room mate - but she would always  need to eat. Three or four hours on a Saturday wouldn't pay rent and  afford what she needed to survive, even if she raked in the tips.

"I don't feel well," she mumbled. "I... Darren, fuck, I think Liam's  trying to replace me. He's in his office right now talking with a girl  he wants to hire on for bar and pair with Cassandra on Thursday night. I  need this money. What else am I supposed to do? All I've ever done my  whole life is work jobs like this."

"Hey now," Darren said. Concern tensed his facial features, and he stood  from where he'd been sitting. The phone disappeared into his back  pocket. "You don't know he wants to replace you. Maybe Thursday night is  just the best time to train her, y'know, to get a feel for how busy we  get. Doesn't mean he's gonna strong arm you out."

A sharp clatter of glass punctuated the end of Darren's speech. Whitney  dropped the crate onto the counter and covered her eyes with her hands.  Tears hadn't started to fall yet, but she could feel them burning in her  ducts, longing to break free.

"We all knew this was coming, I'm just too old," she lamented, trying to  keep herself together. "I think it's sweet you're trying to make me  feel better, but pulling the wool over my eyes isn't gonna help. Not  when Liam takes all my hours away and leaves me stranded. I just... I  worked so hard for him. For this place. I still make some of the best  money of any of the girls. Why does he gotta go pull something like  this?"

Darren laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, his touch awkward.

"It's not about who you are or the work you do," he assured her, "it's  that Liam sleeps, eats, and breaths in dollar signs. If he sees you  doing this well, I bet he's thinking to himself that a younger version  of you is gonna make him that much more money. Don't take what he does  personal, Whit. You're still the same person you were last month, last  week, hell, the same person as when you walked in the doors today. There  ain't nothing wrong with you at all."

The words made her feel worse. Thoughts of worthlessness clouded Whitney's mind to drag her down.

If there's nothing wrong with you, he wouldn't fire you.

If there's nothing wrong with you, you wouldn't be so afraid of losing this job and moving on somewhere else.

No one wants damaged goods. Not even your mother wanted to have anything to do with the worthless life she created.

No one wants anything to do with you.

Temples throbbing, stomach churning, Whitney drew back from Darren and  shook her head. Tonight she'd told herself she was going to live in the  moment and not let anything get to her. Wasn't that the whole point of  fantasizing over the tall stranger?

If your own mother didn't want you, what makes you think someone like that is going to?

There was no way she could go back to the bar and be on her A game, not until those thoughts stilled.

"Thanks," Whitney mumbled. There was no conviction behind her words.  "Um, listen. Do you have lots of garbage or something that needs to be  taken out? I really need to get some fresh air to clear my thoughts  before I head back out there."

"Uh," Darren looked towards the trash. The bag was overflowing with  junk. "Yeah. Yeah, I can hook you up with some trash. Why don't you take  some clean glasses back to the bar and bring your trash out, and by the  time you get back I'll have this all bagged up for you, okay?"         

     



 

"Okay." A deep breath. "Thank you, Darren."

"Any time," Darren promised. "Just keep your chin up. You never know  what life's got in store for you. Maybe all this is a good thing in  disguise."

That seemed a little farfetched, but Whitney bobbed her head in  agreement and drew a crate of clean glasses from the cabinet beneath the  counter space. Replacements in hand, she made her way out through the  kitchen doors.

Liam and the girl were still talking when she left the kitchen, but  Whitney did her best to tune them out. Instead, she focused on the  distant throbbing beat of the bass from beyond the door into the club.  That was where she was headed - back into the midst of things, back into  the party she had been so proud to be a part of. Now she felt like she  wanted nothing to do with it. The carefree Friday nights of people half a  decade younger than she was felt bitter now. Their fun would go on even  after she'd left. This was not her world anymore.

The door opened. Whitney made her way back across the floor, slid the  clean dishes into position, then told Cassandra what was up.

"Gonna take out the trash," she cried. Cassandra was pouring a row of  shots for a group of guys who were already more than a little gone. "Not  feeling too well."

"Fresh air," Cassandra said with a nod of her head. Whitney closed up  their trash, replaced the bag, and made the walk back to the back door.  By the time she arrived back in the kitchen, Liam had shut his office  door and Darren had the kitchen trash bagged and ready to go.

"Hey, um," Darren said, hesitating, "Liam came in here after you left. Said he was looking for you. Did you run into him?"

Whitney pursed her lips, more uneasy than ever.

"No."

"Well, after you're done taking the trash out, maybe go look for him. I  didn't tell him you were doing this for me, to give you time to prepare  yourself for whatever it is he wants to say. Just thought maybe you  should know before he corners you."