A tall, stunning blonde with eyes that made your clothes explode off your body on their own volition, walked towards me. I bet she was his biggest money maker. She stretched out a perfectly manicured hand and shook mine. “Sammy.” She gave me a bright and beautiful smile. Perfectly white straight teeth like she’d just walked off the set of a teeth whitening commercial.
I wondered if she and Leon got their manicures together. “Jane.”
“Welcome to The Hot Bird.” She gave me a once over and nodded. “I see what he means.”
I didn’t know if she was talking to me or herself so I kept quiet.
“Let me show you what we do around here.” She winked at me and turned around gesturing with her finger to follow.
She made it look so sexy. Later, I would stand in front of a mirror and try. Try to get that look in my eye. Try to get my single digit to produce saliva and desire in the same way I saw her doing all night. I would fail. But at least I tried.
I followed her, my eyes flicking from her golden curls that jumped on her head like a million charged slinkies, and her glorious ass that was wrapped in a body-hugging leather mini skirt. Her underwear was a hairsbreadth away from any object at any time. Showing it off, teasing the customers with peeks. A thrill igniting whatever their imagination, because she knew it would remain untouched. Every time she bent over, I could see the sliver of her red G-string. She was attractive in all the right places and I was simultaneously jealous and totally in awe.
Sammy led me through a hidden door that led down a narrow corridor. She showed me the staff toilet and change room, and the locker where I could keep my bag and extra clothes which she said I should bring from now on. She said if no one “accidentally spilt” a drink on me all night to see if my nipples would harden under the cold liquid, I wasn't going to last very long. I swallowed hard and wondered if that’s why she wore the tight white singlet and red lacy bra.
When I asked her about Leon’s speech and how we should be treated she smirked at me.
“He meant every word, but the girls told him to back off when he stopped it from happening.”
My heart flared, he was a good guy. “So, you want to have drinks thrown at you?”
“Want is a strong word.” She scrunched her face as we retraced our steps back towards the main room. “I don't want to have drinks thrown at me, but I do want to earn a living. See, I am this close to paying off my house.” She held her thumb and forefinger inches apart. “Even though I’ve asked him to stop, Leon has been putting some money away for me, so that when I own my house, I can go study. Hard nipples will get you triple your tips. The guys won’t touch you, but they will splash you.”
She giggled at her little rhyme and pushed through the door that led us back onto the main room. I could feel my body stiffen, the hair on my neck doing a Mexican wave. I wondered about Leon and Sammy.
While doing a quick tour of the bar her voice became muted, swallowed by the uncertainty in my head. If they were having a relationship what about the fireworks in his office earlier that day? When I tuned back in, she was showing me the band space, dance floor, tables and outside area. I tried to keep up. When was it too soon to ask your manager if they were sleeping with your boss?
At around eight thirty, two large tall men walked in. They were clad in black suits and silky black ties and looked like they were forged from a mountain. Solid and strong.
“Hi boys.” Sammy smiled at them and I could instantly see their affection for her as their faces softened, quaint smiles at the top of their lips. There wasn’t a trace of lust or desire, but a bond. A friendship, like they would do anything for her. “This is Jane, the new girl. That’s Dave and Lefty, they will make sure you’re always safe.” Her smile widened, and they turned their attention to me.
“Hi.” I extended my hand. Dave was the first to grab it in his paw. He gave me a big grin and chimed his hello in a deep baritone. Lefty followed.
Sammy reached behind the bar and handed them each a cool bottle of water which they took as they bid us a good night and went to set up for their own night.
“They don’t say much, do they?”
“They know their place and they want to keep their jobs. Also, they’re not really into girls…”
Before I could react, she took my hand and pulled me behind the bar. We went through fridges and recipes. Alcohol contents and where they kept the cherries and lemon slices. She must have seen the dazed look on my face as she stopped talking and put a reassuring hand on my forearm.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, but remember this, these men, they come here to drink, yes, but they also come here to watch you make their drink. If it takes you five minutes instead of two, they get their money’s worth. They get to stare at your ass or your tight stomach or your neck or whatever little thing they will fantasise about later. Take your time. Learn. Don’t be flustered.” She squeezed. “You will learn fast and you will learn better on the job. It pays well and you, my dear, have a lot of assets.” Her face broke into her practised smile that beamed at me.
I hoped she was right.
That first night was a blur of music and alcohol and a lot of hands. I would get better at swatting them away or avoiding them all together, but that night, I was touched in places I didn't even know men wanted to touch.
Sammy was right. I had three drinks thrown at me and she gave me two spare outfits. The last one, a white singlet cut along the midriff exposing my belly, tied in a little knot just above my navel. The sleeves were torn off. I wasn't sure if it was designer, or designed by Sammy, but it got me more attention than I had anticipated, and yet another drink “spilt” across my chest. Seemed Leon had very clumsy clientele.
I was out of clothes and out of luck. I reeked of alcohol and my nipples stood like soldiers saluting their general. I was leered at and propositioned, enticed and stared at, but most of all I made money. A shit ton of money. Enough money to buy food, for two weeks, maybe three if I stretched it out.
Leon wasn't lying. He sold sex. And I sold my soul. But I needed to eat and keep a roof over my head. Basic survival.
The only other thing I remember from that night is when I first saw him. Leon showed up downstairs around midnight. It wasn't long after my last change and I felt his eyes bore into me as he sat at the end of the bar conversing with some a group of patrons.
Leon wore a charcoal grey suit that wrapped around his body like glad wrap showing every inch of muscle and anatomy that lay beneath. His perfectly combed hair glistened under the bar lights and his eyes burned as he stared at me. His eyes following my every move. I gave him a small smile and pretended that my underwear was still intact under his gaze as I casually turned down suitors and collected empty glasses.
When I reached the bar to empty my tray, he came up behind me. His large frame blocked out the glaring light above my head and I could feel the heat of his body as he inched closer.
“How are you finding your first night?” his voice rolled through me.
“Busy.”
“I can see that.”
I grabbed the empty glasses and bent down to place them into the dishwasher. My ass brushed his groin, and I felt his erection against me. I froze. He sucked in a long breath but didn't move. Neither did I. I stood up again, then repeated the action. I thought I could hear him groan over the music and the loud chatter, but that might have been my imagination.
I could feel his hard cock as it stood straining against his charcoal pants. I could feel how he wanted me. Everything tingled. My heart hammered in my chest as I continued this one-sided dance. Leon didn’t move an inch as I packed up the entire dishwasher and set it to wash. As soon as I pushed the start cycle button, he took two steps back and left the bar. I didn't see him again that night.
It was edging on 3 a.m. when I got home. I reeked of booze and cologne and sweat and lust. My first night at The Hot Bird was done, and I was exhausted, exhilarated and highly confused.
I stacked the
dollar notes under my couch pillow.
I peeled off my sticky shirt. Sammy’s purple bra stuck to my body, and I threw it on the floor. I took off the borrowed skirt and boots and got under the hot shower. The water pelted my skin. My body felt exhausted and abused in ways it hadn’t been in years. My feet hurt, my thighs hurt, my head screamed and all I could think about was Leon’s cock and how he had stood there, just letting my ass sway and bend against it.
The thought made me angry. Hungry. For him. I closed my eyes and envisioned Leon. Imagined his big hands around my nipples, pinching rolling, touching. I imagined his big cock inside me, the hardness filling me as he pushed into me, bending me over the dishwasher. Taking me right there in the bar. Everyone to watch, to see my face contort in ecstasy as he fucked me, sucked me, finished me. I came in throbbing pulsing mess my back stuck to the wall, my legs barely holding up my own weight.
I slipped into the first thing I found that was close and dry and crashed on the couch.
There it was again. That rapping sound like someone was tapping in my head. I rolled over and groaned. The sound continued, and I opened my eyes. The morning sun still soft. It was early, too early. Why the hell was someone knocking at my door?
I swung it open and immediately jumped behind it, realising I was not properly dressed for what awaited me on the other side.
“Good morning,” Grish mumbled visibly embarrassed.
“Hi Grish. Sorry, it was a late night. I got a job.”
“Congratulations.” He flashed some teeth and his mouth returned to its parental status quo hovering between concern and judgement. “I have something for you.” He gestured as if I hadn’t seen what he brought.
“I’ll just go put some more clothes on.” He nodded as I closed the door in his face. I could feel the heat rising up to my ears as I ran around the apartment picking up my now dry clothes. I threw them on the couch pretending they were in a neat pile. I cringed and shook it off. I found short jeans and a t-shirt that covered my shoulders. I grabbed my hair and put it up in a bun and splashed some water on my face.
I opened the door again.
Grish was talking to the other young men. When he saw me, he exchanged a few words in Hindi and the men grabbed the wooden planks and some tools and went directly down the corridor and into my bedroom.
“Grish, you shouldn’t have.”
He put his hands up in a gesture that made me think I had offended him.
“Thank you.”
To that, he smiled a little. “My daughter doesn’t need it anymore. Even if they come to visit, they will stay in a hotel room.” He sighed. “Anyway, no young lady should be sleeping on a couch at night. Do you have blankets?”
I eyed my lightweight sheet. The stark purple tie-dye drowned out the ugliness of the couch.
Grish didn’t say anything else about it.
A few minutes later the men came back. They seemed to be joking, all talking at once. They quieted down when they saw Grish.
“Uncle, we are done.” The man was young, maybe in his early twenties. His accent was thick and wrapped in spice and adventure.
“Grab the mattress,” Grish said and the two younger men exited and came back with a mattress I had not noticed before. I guessed it must have been leaning on the wall.
In two minutes, the boys were back again and Grish dismissed them.
“Thank you,” I called to them as they disappeared down the hall. “Thank you Grish. Truly.”
I wanted to hug him. I didn’t. We weren’t there yet.
“Wait here.” He left, and I ran to my bedroom. The single bed had been built and placed under the window. Old ornate wood with hand carved swirling designs ran along the edges. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever been given.
“Jane?” Grish’s voice boomed down the corridor and I popped my head out to see him by the door. “I told you to stay here, anyone could have come in.” He was back to admonishing. His forehead crinkled. I bit my lip holding back a smile. It’s like he really cared.
He was holding a thick duvet and pillow, both covered in orange, silk sheets. They smelled like him, spicy and perfumed. I hugged them to my body. It was the only thank you I could say.
“Good.” Was all that Grish managed.
“Would you like coffee?” I knew he would refuse, but I had to offer.
“I only drink tea.”
“Sorry I still don’t have any. But I am going shopping today. For food.”
What do you say to someone who is excited about buying food? He didn’t know either.
“Wait here.” He said again and left. And like the last time I left my door open and went to make my bed.
My bed.
My heart burst from my chest.
“Jane?” Grish called to me.
He just shook his head when my head popped out of the bedroom. “Well, I had to go put it down.” I raised an eyebrow and cocked my head.
He walked by me and into my kitchen. In his hand, he held two cups, one teaspoon and a tin container with faded artwork.
“Now you have tea.”
He placed the treasure on my kitchen table and sat down. I grinned at him holding back laughter.
“Tell me about your new job Jane.” I froze. I didn’t want to tell this lovely man about my new job. What if he hated me after? What if he came to the bar? I didn’t know which prospect terrified me more.
“I work at a bar.”
He nodded. “Is that why you sleep so late?” it was barely quarter to eight.
“Yes.”
He nodded to himself some more. “Where are your parents?” he looked up at me as I put a steaming cup of tea in front of him.
“They died.”
The pain in his eyes was palatable. “Oh, I’m so sorry…”
“It’s OK. It happened when I was very little. A car accident, cliché I know. I went to live with my mom’s brother.” My body shivered as I thought of him. I cleared my head. “Turns out he wasn’t very good with money. He liked gambling. Ha.” It wasn’t real laughter. It was that crazed maniacal - I have been completely blindsided - kind of a ha. “When he finally died, he had so many debts. His debts had debts, and as his only living relative, I inherited his estate and all his debt.”
“Is that how you have come to be here?”
“Well partly.” I wasn’t quite ready to tell him the whole story.
“When my family first came here from India, we stayed with some family friends. My father was a successful businessman in India and we had some savings. Turns out that his business partner had some shady dealings and my father lost it all. We lived day by day, in shelters and sometimes under bridges for a long time. I was a kid so I don’t exactly know how long. My mother tried to make me forget what hunger was by keeping me entertained.” His lips curved a little at the memory of his mother. “My father worked hard, and he started a new business. He was successful once again, and we never went without.”
I sat down at the table blowing at my hot coffee. Grish opened the cookie packet he brought. He grabbed one and dipped it into his tea. He sucked at the crumbling dough.
“Is that how you came to be here?” I asked him.
He gave me a crooked smile. “Partly.”
We shared a small laugh.
“Tell me Jane, are you educated?”
The question took me by surprise. It wasn’t offensive or hurtful, just blunt. Later I would learn that that is what Grish was, honest and blunt. Even when it hurt. Even when it wasn’t meant to.
“I was half way through a literature degree when he died.”
“Literature?”
“Yes, I love to read and write.”
“Oh, so you write?”
“No, but I’d like to one day.”
“When?”
“One day.”
“Why not today?”
“I’m tired.”
Grish’s face scrunched up into something unrecognisable. “We are all tired. Why are you w
orking in a bar?”
“Cause I need to pay rent and eat food and pay debts.” I didn’t really raise my voice but suddenly I felt guilty for not even yelling.
“OK, we all have responsibilities.”
I huffed in agreement and grabbed a cookie stuffing it into my mouth.
“Why not write before work?”
“Because…”
“Because?”
“I have no inspiration that’s why. I have tried and tried. Nothing happened the page remains blank; the pencil just sits there and laughs at me.”
“I see.”
“Do you?”
“You haven’t lived yet.”
“Excuse me?” I crossed my arms. “I just told you, dead parents, dead uncle, debts…”
“That’s not your life. That’s their life.”
I wanted to argue. But maybe he had a point. All those feeling of mystery and self-inflicted pain, the tears and agony, the loss, they were old. I had dealt with them and left them behind, and although they scared me deeply and irrevocably, I had nothing new. Well. Almost nothing.
“I can see the wheels spinning in your head.”
I could feel my brain, as it kicked in to gear, I could feel the seed of a story, the something that could become something bigger.
“Yes.” It was a whisper, but it was excited and petrified.
We drank and ate in relative silence after that. Something comfortable settled between us as something dark and big settled inside my head. Words and swirls of ideas came pouring in.
I should have written down whatever that idea was, because when I woke up from a nap I took before work, it was gone. I searched for it. I replayed the conversation with Grish in my head, but the swirls had vanished into white wisps, and as I tried to catch the smoke it vaporized in my empty hands.
When I opened my door to leave for work, I found a 96-page notebook and a black pen at my doorstep.
Jane’s stories.
The curly letters were written in calligraphy. I picked up the book and pushed back the tears from my eyes. I didn’t want to have to redo my makeup.
I went back inside and put the notebook under my pillow. It was my most treasured possession and I would start using it tomorrow.
Guarding Gabriel Page 4
