Wasted (Dirty Boys of Chicago #1)

by Morgan Black

  Alexis shrugged. “I don't know. This is the address on the card.” She passed the card up to the cabbie again, “Are you sure this is the right place?”

  He nodded. “Yes, yes. The fair is $17.95. You pay with cash or credit?”

  She rolled her eyes, and passed up a twenty-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

  We both got out of the cab, and watched it drive away as the bouncer waved his hand at us to come over to him. We had coats wrapped around our scantily clad outfits, so besides our heels and our coats, it looked like we were naked. Alexis approached him first. He was tall and stocky with a black long-sleeved shirt on and black pants. “We’re here for the audition.”

  He didn't say anything, just nodded, and opened the door for us to go through. No checking of IDs or asking us how we had found out about the audition. It was strange. We walked up another set of stairs, and into a dark lobby. There was a girl just a couple years older than me standing behind an ornate wooden desk. There was a bell in front of her, and the guest list where people had been signing in their names. A fountain pen still laid on top of the paper. I looked at Alexis. This was definitely not what she described. She shrugged at me, and walked up to the desk.

  “Hi, um, we’re here for the audition.”

  The girl had a black corset on, but I couldn't see what she was wearing on the bottom. Her long brown hair went down past her chest, and was cut straight across her forehead. She looked like a model.

  “Audition? Oh, did you get our information from Club Zero?”

  Alexis nodded. “A guy gave me the card, and said the audition was here. Are we in the right place?”

  She looked Alexis up-and-down, and then did the same to me. “I think there's something that we can do with you. Follow me upstairs; that's where the girls get ready. The Madame will meet with you after that.”

  I was confused. “I'm sorry, Madame? Is that what you call the woman who hires everyone?”

  She smiled at me, and cocked her head. “That's what everyone calls her. She owns the Buyer’s Club.”

  “But I thought this was for Club Zero?” I whispered to Alexis. She shrugged.

  She walked up the stairs and beckoned for us to follow her, but ignored my question, even though I was sure she heard me. Without anything else better to do, we followed her. I think out of sheer curiosity.

  We could barely hear her soft footballs on the red velvet carpet as she ascended the stairs. She continued to talk as she walked in front of us. “We use Club Zero to field potential girls for our operations here. This is the Boston Buyer’s Club. Welcome.” With that, we were at the top of the stairs and we had entered a large room with dozens of girls lying around on sofas, and sitting in oversized armchairs. They all had on similar outfits as our hostess: corsets with little boy shorts and ruffles on the ass. And they were all just as beautiful as she was. Many of them had their shoes off, and were putting on makeup or curling their hair. But some were ready to go at a backdoor, standing in clusters whispering excitedly.

  As the woman continued to walk, I grabbed Alexis’s arm. “What the hell is this? These girls are not go-go dancers.”

  I could tell she didn't know what to say, and that she was just as shocked as I was. “I don't know, Calla. This isn't what they told me, I swear.”

  A beautiful African-American girl walked up to us. She had long black hair that went past her shoulders, with a blond streak right in front. Her skin was smooth, and it looked like she had hardly any makeup on; she was just naturally beautiful. “They didn't tell you honey? I swear, getting these girls off the streets is just not going to work out for us.” She turned around to address the tall brunette who had brought us upstairs. “Jessica, you have got to talk to the Madame about this. These girls are going to tell everybody about us. And you know that is not how it works here.” She moved her hands as she talked, and then turned back to us. “I mean you’d be stupid to tell, though. Girls who tell don’t get far.” I shuddered. She added, “We don't need any virgins in the Buyer’s Club.”

  I made a face. “I'm not a virgin. But thanks anyway.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Feisty. Maybe you do belong here. But your little sidekick… Girl, you should head on home.”

  I addressed her again. “She stays. She's with me.” I held onto Alexis’s hand tightly, afraid that they might rip her from me. Many of the other girls were now watching our discussion. They'd stopped chatting in the corner, and the girls who had been putting their makeup on had frozen in place. They all looked like mannequins at a department store.

  “Fine. It's not my decision anyway. The Madame will have your ass out in a second. Just stay away from my Buyers.”

  I shook my head. “Not a problem.”

  She walked away, and I looked at Alexis again. “Do you realize where we are?”

  Alexis shook her head, clearly still terrified that the girl was going to kick our asses.

  “This is that escort service that they made a movie about on HBO. This is the real Boston Buyer’s Club. It exists.”

  Alexis’s eyes grew wider. She and I both knew we had just entered into a whole mess of trouble.

  The brunette, Jessica, came back, and took our coats from us. Luckily, because we had chosen such extravagant go-go outfits, we didn't look much different from the other girls, except somehow we looked less classy. Something about the way they, working girls, carried themselves, exuded an air of mystery and poise that we just couldn't handle. After Jessica took our coats, she came back with outfits for us. “I think it's cute that you tried to dress like us, but these will fit you better.”

  She gave Alexis a yellow corset and booty ruffle shorts, and gave me a black matching set. I knew Alexis would look good in hers; her tanned skin complexion always looked good with yellow. My dark hair would match the black fairly well. But what was behind the doors? If we were getting dressed, did that mean that we were about to be sold to the highest bidder? Jessica sat on the sofa, smoking a cigarette, and talking to one of the other girls. I approached her slowly.

  “What happens when we go to the club?”

  Jessica just looked at me, but the blonde she was sitting with started to explain. “Oh, honey, it's so easy,” she said, in a thick southern accent. “First, you go in, and you just talk to the boys. And then, if someone's interested in you, they go behind the curtain. Then, the Madame makes the deal. It's a 50-50 split, and the money’s always good. And most of the time you don't even have to… you know.”

  I shook my head. “No, I don't know.”

  She put up her hand, as if to block Jessica's view. “The sex, honey. Most of these men don't even expect it these days. There's always a couple of guys, especially the younger Buyers, but that’s just more money for you. Since you’re new, I’ll give you a tip. Find an older guy in a gray suit. The Judge. He’s real nice.”

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  So, I was about to be sold to the highest bidder. And then I might have to have sex with him. Was I really in this dire of a financial situation? Because I was certainly considering what she had just said as a method of income. And then, part of me was desperate to know what it was like behind those doors. More girls had started to collect in the entryway, and I looked at Alexis. I nodded for her to come with me. But she stood frozen with her arms crossed over her chest. I walked back to her, as Jessica and the blonde also stood, and made their way to the entrance of the club.

  “Alexis, what are you doing?”

  She shook her head back and forth. “I can’t do this. This isn’t what we signed up for! I can't believe you're even considering going in there.”

  It was time to come clean. I sighed. “Listen, Alexis, I need the money. I have got to admit that some part of this excites me. If you don't want to be a part of it, fine. You’ve just got to promise me you’ll never tell anyone that we were here.”

  I could see the shock written all over her face, but she simply nodded. She started to walk away, back to clo
set we had seen Jessica put our coats in, but I called after her.

  “I'm going to be fine. I promise. Don't worry, okay?”

  She smiled at me, just a little. “You are always more of a badass than me. I was always just pretending to be as confident as you really are. Go get ‘em.” She rushed back, and threw her arms around me. I cherished the quick hug, before she turned and ran out the door. I know she didn't want any of the other girls to see her. Perhaps the first girl had been right. If we shared their secret, I was sure something dangerous would happened. But I didn't think Alexis would admit to anyone she was ever here. Hopefully, she would be safe.

  I took a deep breath, and turned around to see the girls filtering out through another large wooden door. I was terrified. I fixed my chest, my corset, and followed them through the doors. As I touched the handle, I considered closing the door, and running like Alexis did. But I couldn’t do it. I had to know what was inside.

  I followed the women into a smoky scene of men in business suits sitting at small circular tables. Some were playing cards, while others were smoking cigars and doing shots. I watched Jessica out of the corner my eye as she approached a table of clear businessmen; their suits were of the highest quality. She sat down on one of their laps, and started to make conversation. The other girls around me started to do the same; some approached the bar to get a drink while others sat down at the tables, or landed quick kisses on men's cheeks. There was no jealousy, only business. I realized that within minutes I was the only girl still standing, and I watched as hungry eyes began to assess me. I was the new girl, the Virgin, fresh meat. I quickly spotted an older gentleman, sitting in the corner at a table alone, smoking a cigar. He looked like the easiest target. Gray suit, too. Could be the judge the blonde referred to. I crossed the room, quickly avoiding eye contact with the other men as I passed. One reached out, and grabbed my hand, but when I turned he was not at all that I expected.

  “You’re new.”

  I sucked in a deep breath, and tried to muster my confidence. “What an astute observation that is, but if you'll excuse me I already made my choice for the night.”

  He sat lazily in the chair with one leg crossed over another, and a glass of what I assumed was whiskey was in his hands. He was in his late twenties with a red tie around his neck, and a crisp black suit. Something about him annoyed me. But it also intrigued me. His beautiful dark brown eyes said more than his clear superiority did. He had dark brown hair, cut short at the top of his head, to match his dark eyes. His eyebrows were raised at me in interest; something I had said had made him wonder.

  “You've already chosen for the night? I guess you don't know how this works.”

  I pulled my hand away from him. “Actually, I don't think you do.”

  “You’re a lot to handle. I like that.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I’m Hudson James. You are?”

  “Leaving.”

  I continued on my path toward the older man in the corner, when I heard Hudson and his friends laughing behind me. “She's a firecracker, that one. I'll definitely have to talk to the Madame about her.” I heard the clinking of glasses, but I didn't turn around.

  When I finally reached the back corner, I could tell the man was surprised to see me.

  “Is anyone sitting here?”

  He sat up straighter, fixing his dark tie and buttoning his suit. The buttons bulged across his portly belly. It was clear that he wasn’t as high up as the younger guy had been; his suit was gray and his shoes were worn. But I didn't care. He looked lonely, and I thought he would be a good introduction into whatever lifestyle I was about to get into.

  “No, no. Of course, have a seat. I don't recognize you.” He waved a waitress over to us. “Would you like a drink?”

  I didn’t respond at first.

  It was the black girl from earlier, but now she had a sweet smile on her lips. “Honey, the man offered you a drink. It would be rude not to order.”

  I nodded, “A whiskey sour please. Thank you.”

  She nodded, “Another tequila for you, Judge? It is Saturday after all.” So it was the man the blonde had been referring to.

  He laughed. “Monique, you know me so well.”

  She sauntered off, and I watched his eyes as they focused in on her ass. I had to get his attention back or he might request her.

  “Judge, is it?”

  He nodded, “That's my name here. But I'll tell you a little secret; that's what I do in real life, too.”

  “Fascinating,” I said, as I leaned on the table. “Tell me more.”

  Lucky for me, the judge and I had a lot in common. My political science major, and interest in current political events had served me well. Conversation flowed easily, and after a couple of drinks, the judge put a card on the table.

  “Do you know what to do with this?”

  I picked up the dark card, and held in my hands. It felt slick under my fingers. It read:

  Boston Buyer’s Club

  Official Member

  I shook my head. “No, sorry.”

  He smiled at me kindly. “You take it to the Madame. She stays back behind that black curtain.” He pointed to the left corner of the club. All the material in the club was black: the chairs, the bar, and tablecloths on each table. I listened as soft music played in the background. I hadn’t noticed it over my thumping heart before. But the judge relaxed me, and I was calmer.

  “Once you get in there, she'll tell you what to do. And then she calls me to make the arrangements. I'm not looking for anything serious. I keep a hotel room at the Roosevelt for my girls. We can go get some dinner, and then you can stay the night there. Anything you want, you can have. There's no commitment here; just a night.”

  I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves that were once again rising in my chest. “One night?”

  “You look nervous. It’s nothing sexual, if that’s what you’re thinking. The girls say I’m old school, just looking for company. If you’re a good fit, I’ll take you to functions with me. I’m always looking for an eloquent date for those boring charity balls.”

  I smiled, “That sounds fabulous.” No sex, no problem. I took the card, and sauntered off to the back corner. Outside of the curtain was the same bouncer I'd seen outside the club. He held up his hand for me, and I handed him the card. He took his cell phone and scanned the back; there must've been hidden information there.

  “She'll see you now.”

  I nodded, and he held back the curtain for me as I entered. A woman in her early fifties sat in a large red velvet chair behind a black desk. The room was completely smoke-free, nothing like the club I had just been inside. It shocked me that only a curtain separated such two different worlds. In here, it was all business; outside it was all pleasure.

  She was talking on the phone as I entered, and held up a finger for me to wait. I stood holding the card in my hands, flipping it over and over, trying to calm my nerves. I couldn't believe I was actually doing this: getting paid to go on a date with a man I hardly knew. A man who was twice my age, at least. The judge seemed kind and trustworthy, but maybe that was a mistake. As I stood there waiting, I realized that this whole thing could be a mistake, but if I walked away now I would never know.

  One night. One night was worth finding out what this was all about.

  “Calla, right? Come here, darling.” She stirred me out of my stream of indecisiveness.

  I walked forward. “You know my name?”

  She smiled at me. “Of course, dear. I would never let a girl in my club without knowing everything about her. But I'm sure you would like to know some things about me. Sit.” She extended her hand to a chair that was in front of the desk. I sat down and held the card in my lap, still turning it over in my hands. “I am Madame Nica, and I own this wonderful establishment. I've been the sole owner now for about ten years, but once I was a girl like you. Lost and confused without a penny to call my own. And now, I own all of this.” She to
ssed her hands up in the air, and I noticed her perfectly manicured red nails. They matched her lips, which stood out against her pale skin and light brown hair that just framed her face. She looked distinct, important, but most of all confident.

  “You own all of this?”

  “Of course I do. I used to let men run my life, and now I let them put money in my bank account. Worked out perfectly. I have everything I could've ever wanted.”

  I nodded. “That's amazing.” She made it sound enticing.

  She leaned onto her desk, her white shawl draped over her arms. “You can have everything, too Calla, you just have to give me the card. Those cards will make all of your dreams come true. And I know you're thinking about it, contemplating your future here. But I'll tell you one thing; if you walk out that door tonight, you will regret it for the rest of your life.”

  I looked at the card in my hands. It seemed so simple.

  “I'm in. This is the judge's card; he told me to bring in to you. He wants to take me out to dinner, and then he mentioned a hotel room…”

  “Ah, yes, at the Roosevelt. He’s known for treating his girls quite well. You’ll like him. And inviting you to dinner on your first night? He certainly is enthralled with you.” She took the card from me, and used her phone this time to scan it. She then began typing furiously on a laptop. “You're going to need a mentor. I don't work with any of the new girls, but there is someone who does. If you need anything you will call her, not me. I am your business associate, your boss. Not your best friend. If you have a problem, you call Monique.”

  “Monique?” The gorgeous black girl from earlier? Shit.

  “Yes. She's one of the best. She knows exactly how to make the buyers happy, and she’ll teach you her ways. You will listen to everything, and do exactly as she says. She’ll meet with you tomorrow morning after your date.” She passed me a business card with Monique’s name and phone number.

  I sighed. “Got it.”

  She passed the judge’s card back to me. “There’s clothes for you upstairs in the dressing room. I believe you were up there earlier with Jessica. Change into something appropriate for dinner, and go to this room at the Roosevelt.” She scribbled down a number on a pad.