by Lexie Ray
“Excellent, excellent, excellent,” Mama said, taking each girl’s money. “You just let me know if you need any of it,” she said. “I’ll take it right out for you.”
Nobody believed that anymore, and I knew most of the girls had pocketed part of their tips, same as me.
Going upstairs to change and take a shower, I frowned at myself. It was completely out of character for me to dwell on someone I slept with. I was definitely the love them and leave them type.
Why was it such a problem if Jake was, too?
Chapter Four
The first indication that something wasn’t right came the very next day.
I opened the little plastic compact case that contained my birth control one morning and realized it’d been a solid week since the last time I popped a pill. Sitting heavily on the bed, I stared at the pills I should’ve been taking. What had made me forget to take something I’d been taking for years for a solid week? Where had my mind gone?
After I’d regaled Shimmy, Daisy, and Pumpkin with the story of my hot hookup with the DJ, I’d gone to bed sore and happy. The soreness had lasted a whole two days, giving me pleasant reminders about what I’d done with him. I liked the feeling.
When it’d faded, I texted him, using the number on his card.
He hadn’t texted back.
Cream’s words plagued me, that I shouldn’t have high expectations for him. I knew I shouldn’t. I’d only get hurt. But I couldn’t help to think that we’d had something special.
Finally, in a fit of desperation, I actually called the number. I heard his voice, which made me melt inside, but it was just a voicemail for bookings.
“I’ll give you a call back with my rates,” the message said, Jake’s voice bright and professional. “I want to rock your venue with my specially tailored beats. No performance is the same.”
I’d hung up at the beat, not wanting to bother him. He’d always talked about wanting a full schedule, doing his show at least once a night, and it seemed like he was getting what he wanted. I tried to be happy for him, but I felt that he could at least take a second to text me.
Unless he didn’t feel the same way about me as I did him. Maybe that was it.
I resolved not to text him again. I didn’t want to come off as needy—specifically, me needing to be with him. That just wasn’t me.
“Shimmy!” I hollered, still staring at my compact of birth control pills. The seven I hadn’t taken stared up at me like beady little eyes. I snapped it shut so they would stop judging me. I took a deep breath, trying to ward off the panic attack that was threatening to consume me.
“Blue as the sea,” I muttered to myself, tossing the compact from hand to hand. “Blue as the sea. Shimmy!”
“What’s up?” She poked her head in my door.
“How many of these can you miss and still be okay?” I asked, waving the compact at her. All of us were on birth control in one form or another.
“Two or three, I think,” she said. “After that, you have to use secondary protection.”
The funny way she said it made me realize she’d memorized it from the packet.
Shimmy wrinkled her nose. “Why are you still taking those, anyways?” she asked. “You should get an implant or something. The advances in medicine recently have been stunning, I tell you, absolutely stunning.”
She sashayed across the room and plopped down beside me on the bed, making me bounce a bit.
“I missed a whole goddamn week,” I said, feeling numb as I handed her the compact.
Shimmy opened it and whistled lowly. “That’s why you gotta get on an implant, girl,” she said. “I’ll go with you if you’re squeamish. It’s nothing, really. You barely feel it. But once it’s there, you forget about it and you’re protected. No pesky little pills to remember to take.”
“I’ve been taking them for years,” I said, shaking my head. “I never miss.”
“You’ve got Jake on the brain,” she said, handing me back the compact. “It does funny things to a girl.”
I groaned. “I do not have Jake on the brain,” I lied. “My brain is far too addled to focus on anything, obviously.” Opening the compact again, I mentally berated myself for those seven pills. I’d missed them long before I hooked up with Jake, and that was a big problem.
“At least you’re going to start your period soon,” Shimmy said, pointing at the first sugar pill in its row at the bottom of the pack.
“That’s true,” I said, sighing heavily.
“And you should cheer up,” Shimmy said, elbowing me. “Pining doesn’t suit you. You’ll see Jake tonight. He’s scheduled as entertainment.”
I grimaced inwardly as my heart lifted. I was too into him, and he evidently wasn’t into me. This could only end badly, just as Cream had said. I needed to distance myself emotionally from him. I had to protect myself.
Still, I couldn’t stop myself from curling my hair until it fell around my face softly. I sprayed it so the style would hold throughout the night, then took special care with my makeup. I chose red lipstick to finish off the look, which had been Cocoa’s favorite. I smiled when I remembered our most recent text exchange, during which I’d gushed stupidly over Jake.
“Blue the man-eater, finally ready to settle on just one?” she’d written. “Must be one beast of a man.”
“The beast-iest,” I’d sent back, earning an “LOL” from Cocoa.
I was like a little girl with a crush, even if I knew that nothing good could come of throwing myself at a guy like Jake, if what Cream had said was true.
That didn’t stop me from grinning at him as he set up his equipment on the stage just as the nightclub was opening. It also didn’t stop the fluttering of my heart when he returned the grin and blew me a kiss, to boot.
He looked damn sexy in a simple black T-shirt that showed off those biceps. I was transported back to our night together, when I’d had to hold onto them as he fingered me. The thought of it gave me chills.
Jake finished setting up and started playing popular music, all of the girls cheering as familiar songs filled the nightclub. Mama threw open the door and started welcoming customers inside.
“What’ve you been up to?” I asked, sliding him his favorite beer. “I tried to get a hold of you.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound petulant.
Jake took a swig and looked at me blankly. “Did you leave a message?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “I didn’t want to bug you if you were busy.”
“You’d never bug me,” he said laughing and kissing me swiftly on the lips. “I just always field my calls that way. I get a lot of calls from unknown numbers. That’s how I weed out the business calls from the personal calls.”
My traitorous mind wondered how many personal calls he’d answered last week before I could stop it.
“Here,” I said, grabbing his hand and a permanent marker from behind the bar. I scrawled my number on the back of his hand. “Now you know it’s me who’s calling.”
“Very nice,” he said, admiring my handiwork. “No screening this number. I promise.”
He started his set and I felt a little mollified. He screened his calls. It made sense. He was running a business and had his cell phone number on his business card. He probably got lots of calls.
That traitor brain of mine wondered if he’d fed Cream the same excuses.
I felt better once the drink tickets started coming in. Mixing cocktails and opening beers might have been mindless work, but the simple tasks kept my mind from dwelling on Jake. Would he pay for the pleasure of being with me again tonight? It felt like a million years from the last time I saw him. I almost hoped he would.
But the night wore on. Jake would always come down to the bar for a beer between his sets, and to chat and flirt with me. But he gave no indication that he was going to take me upstairs again.
Finally, after the third set, I couldn’t stand not knowing any longer.
“Am I going to enjoy a repeat perfo
rmance of last week?” I asked keeping my voice light as I gave him his beer and continued to complete drink requests.
He laughed. “You know, I asked Mama about it,” he said. “She raised your price, saying that it was because we were up there for so long.”
That sounded like something that Mama would do. I looked around the nightclub, but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Maybe she was crouched in the office, counting her money like a crazy person.
“And how much is a night with me going for these days?” I asked, raising my eyebrows as I crushed mint leaves for a mojito.
“I think it would be impolite to say,” Jake said, leaning toward me. “But let me repeat: worth every penny.”
I smiled at that. “Well, if it’s just pennies we’re talking about, I’ll buy my own time. You can accompany me upstairs.”
I made as if I was about to haul him off, taking his hand and yanking on him, both of us giggling.
“You know you’re worth more than pennies,” Jake said.
“I want to be with you again,” I said bluntly. “It’s that simple. You want to know what I’ve been thinking about this whole last week while I’m getting myself off? Nothing, because I’m not getting myself off. Sex with you last week was so incredible that I haven’t even felt the urge to touch myself unless I’m doing it in front of you, for your benefit.”
Jake licked his lips at this. “That would be very hot,” he allowed.
“I can make it happen, whenever you want,” I said. “You just have to tell me.”
“I will,” he said, handing me the empty bottle of beer and heading back on stage for his last set.
I couldn’t help but feel about as empty as the bottle I threw into the trash. He said he’d tell me, but would he? Why hadn’t he set a time and place right then? I was about as irritated with Jake as I was with myself. If it wasn’t meant to be, it wasn’t meant to be. It was that simple because it had to be.
I threw myself to the grind of the nightclub, completing requests with a fury. It was easier to concentrate on every trick in my arsenal, flipping the bottles up high over my head before reaching up to catch them, or throwing them behind my back, spinning, as I snagged them with my other hand. It was more than I usually did, and I was getting quite a few admirers. Several fat tips came my way via the girls, imparting messages from the customers who’d enjoyed my little show.
It was nice to be acknowledged, and I enjoyed the attention. I told myself that I’d sleep with the first customer to make me an offer, just to purge my obsession with Jake, when Mama’s voice jolted me from wherever I’d been.
“Hope you all had too much fun tonight,” Mama said, grinning at everyone. “Tip out and buck up—we’re open every single night of the week.”
The lights brightened and my eyes widened in surprise. It was already closing time. I’d been so focused on my little juggling show that time had completely escaped me. I looked toward the stage and realized that Jake was already gone. I hadn’t even noticed when he finished the last set.
I pondered this point for precisely five seconds before launching into cleaning operations. I didn’t need to dwell because there was nothing to dwell on. I was wiser than this, and the messages Jake was sending were pretty clear.
“Hey, baby, hey,” Shimmy chirped. She was holding the rag and spray bottle this week. All the girls rotated chores and duties in the nightclub.
“Hey, hey, baby,” I answered. “Good night for you?”
“Very good,” she said, smiling as she tipped me out. “Two of my regulars were in, and they adore me.”
“There is much to adore about you, baby,” I said, wiping down the surface of the bar.
“You never got to go upstairs with Jake,” Shimmy observed.
I shrugged. “He’s got my number, if he wants to call it.”
“Blue the man-eater,” she laughed. “Love ’em and leave ’em, right?”
“That’s the only way to go,” I agreed.
I tucked away my cut of tips before giving the rest to Mama. I’d recently started asking for more money than I needed every week, squirreling that away, too. I didn’t question my instincts when they told me to do something. I just did it.
And when they were screaming at me to forget about Jake, I did my best to comply. Maybe he’d call this week and maybe he wouldn’t.
“I’m sorry.”
I straightened to see Cream, who was holding the vacuum.
“Sorry about what?” I asked, cocking my head.
“What I had with Jake can’t be compared to what you have with Jake,” she said, staring at the floor. “It was wrong of me to compare the two, and wrong of me to put ideas in your head. You don’t need that.”
“Oh, baby, come here,” I said, sighing as I stepped out from behind the bar and gave Cream a hug. “You don’t have to be sorry about anything. There aren’t any hard feelings between us, are there?”
“Of course not,” she said, hugging me back. “It just wasn’t fair of me to say what I said last week.”
“It’s forgotten,” I said, waving my hands. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”
But then I really started worrying the next week. My period, which began unfailingly on Thursdays ever since I started taking birth control in Tennessee, didn’t show up that Thursday. I chewed my lip and waited it out. I’d been under more stress than usual, and maybe it’d affected my cycle.
But when Friday, and Saturday, and Sunday passed with not a single cramp or drop of blood, I began to get worried. I was never late like this.
Trying to swallow my terrible dread, I woke up early on Monday and went to the closest drug store to Mama’s nightclub. It was in a kind of shady neighborhood, but I felt like that just made it more special. I liked hole in the wall places. They had more character than the sterile, cookie cutter stores elsewhere.
I tried to keep a neutral face as I purchased a pregnancy test, but the cashier winced for me.
“Good luck, whichever way you want it to come out,” she said, patting my hand in a kindly manner.
I’d gotten up so early that everyone was still asleep by the time I got back. That suited me just fine. I crouched in the middle stall, the only one with a door, and dribbled piss on the applicator, as well as my fingers. I cursed softly and finished peeing, keeping the applicator beneath me to ensure I gave that fucker a soaking. The box had said that I needed to wait three minutes for results. Fine. I pulled up my lounge pants and flushed the toilet.
I balanced the applicator on the edge of the sink and washed my hands. Gripping the sides of the sink, I looked at myself in the shattered mirror. And if I was pregnant, then what? What could I do?
The situation had to have precedents. It was hard to believe that, in Mama’s nightclub, with the actual kind of work we did, that there would never have been someone who slipped up with her birth control. Of course, no one would know the answer to that but Mama, and I kind of thought it would be the best course of action for her to never, never find out.
So the father of my possible child would be Jake. What would he think? What would he want me to do? Would he even pick up when I called to tell him? I imagined him as a father. The baby would be fair-haired, like me, but with his dark eyes. I liked that image, liked the picture I drew in my head of us as a happy family.
Why didn’t it seem real?
If Jake couldn’t so much as text me for an entire week—and leave the nightclub without saying goodbye—could I even rely on him to change a diaper or burp the baby correctly?
It was just as strange to think of myself as a mother. I’d done it for all those years for my younger siblings, but I never thought I was their mother. They were still my brothers and sisters, not their mother. This child would be mine—mine to raise, mine to care for.
Mine not to fuck up like my parents had fucked me up, ruining my childhood and what was supposed to have been a bright future.
I took a deep breath, not breaking eye contact with myself
in that broken mirror. Of course, all this worrying and all of these conflicting feelings could be for naught. Maybe I wasn’t pregnant. Maybe all that pining about Jake—as well as my missing those birth control pills—had thrown off my natural cycle. That would make sense, wouldn’t it? Maybe I had nothing to worry about.
Psyching myself up, I picked up the applicator and turned it over, squinting at the little window.
Pregnant, it read. Simple as that. Simple as it had to be.
Pregnant. I was pregnant.
The bathroom started spinning and I gripped the sink, panting for air. My chest constricted, my stomach roiled. I wanted to move to the middle stall, ride this motherfucker of a panic attack out in relative privacy, but I sank to the cold floor instead, unable to move a step. The applicator clattered noisily down beside me, landing upright.
Pregnant, it said, mocking. Pregnant! it shouted.
I grabbed at my throat, tried to loosen the zipper on my jacket, pressed my fist against my belly, thinking about the baby growing inside of me.
My baby. My baby and Jake’s baby.
I sobbed for breath, dry heaving, stretching out, reaching for the stall. I just needed to crawl over there, get the hell off this dirty floor, figure out my life, anything. But I was paralyzed with panic, gasping and retching, trying to calm myself down, trying to tell myself it was going to be all right.
“Blue?”
Pumpkin stood at the bathroom door, her eyes wide with fear.
“Should I call an ambulance?” she asked, her voice quavering.
I shook my head emphatically, coughing as I longed for good air. My hands trembled.
Sweet, sweet Pumpkin dropped to the floor beside me and took my hands in hers even though she was as scared as I was.
“What’s wrong, Blue?” she asked, her voice quiet but concerned. “You can tell me.”
I shook my head wildly, again and again. I couldn’t tell anyone. Not one person.
But Pumpkin spotted the applicator, knew it for what it was, knew what news it had, that damning “pregnant” still on the window.
