by LK Thompson
I whipped my head around, expecting to see someone I knew from school, but standing behind me was an unfamiliar girl taller than me, with bleached blonde hair and heavy makeup. She wore skin tight jeans and four inch high heel platforms. I was captivated by her cherry red lipstick and smokey eyeshadow. This girl was gorgeous.
“Hey, can I bum one of those?” She asked.
Quickly, I peeled another slice of gum from the pack and handed it to her, exclaiming, “Sure!” Then, because I couldn’t look away, I asked, “Is there anything fun to do around here? I’m trying to waste forty minutes before my sister’s dance class ends.”
She popped the gum into her mouth and asked, “Oh, is she at Dance by Darlene in the plaza?”
“Yes! How’d you know?”
She smiled, revealing the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen, “I used to go there. It’s a really good school.”
“Yeah, that’s what my Mom keeps saying.” It was my turn at the register, but as I handed the cashier my money, I turned back around to ask, “Are there any parks around here?”
I was being weirdly pushy, but like I said, she had so much makeup on. And I could see a sparkly bra strap peaking out from under her shirt. You don’t just wear a sparkly bra in the middle of the day like that! Maybe she had a date with a celebrity. Or a wealthy billionaire. There’s a small airport with loads of private jets only twenty minutes from Maplewood.
The girl pointed over her shoulder, “Not that I know of. I’m off to work. At Jimmy’s.”
The cashier rolled his eyes in disgust which prompted me to ask, “Oh! Is that a restaurant? Or a bar?”
She was startled by my questions and let out a short laugh. A pang of rejection hit me hard, but I tried to conceal it. I probably sounded severely immature.
“Yeah, it’s a bar and a restaurant, if you can imagine.” The girl playfully answered as she paid and walked outside to the edge of the building. She fished around her bag for a minute, before pulling a cigarette out. She put her chewed up wad of gum on one of her long fake fingernails and held out the pack to offer me one. I shook my head nonchalantly, wondering why she asked me for gum if she was going to smoke two seconds later.
She lit the cigarette and sucked in the longest drag before releasing a cloud billowing from her mouth. “Jimmy’s, my job, is a little bit of everything,” she said. “They serve food and drinks, but their specialty is the live entertainment.”
“Oh cool! Like music and stuff?”
“No, not that kinda entertainment. We do get a DJ once a month, but music is mainly just something we blast through the sound system.” Then she smiled mischievously and said plainly, “It’s a strip joint. I dance there six nights a week. You should come by some time.” She inhaled her cigarette, eyeing me up and down. “Jimmy would freaking love the shit out of you.”
A siren went off in my head, JIMMY’S WAS A STRIP CLUB?! IS A “DANCER” A STRIPPER? IS SHE A STRIPPER? AM I TALKING TO A STRIPPER? Why can’t I stop saying stripper?
Stripper.
Stripper.
Stripper.
To her, I did my best to remain casual, “Oh cool, maybe I will. I’m always looking for ways to make extra cash.”
WHAT? SINCE WHEN?
“Well, if you do come by, say Crystal sent you. They’ll let you right in.”
That was it. Her words resonated, repeating over and over in my thoughts. Crystal invited me to get a job at her job. They would let me right in.
She turned on her heels and I watched her vanish like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, skipping down to the yellow brick road.
9/13
Crystal from the gas station is a bumper sticker plastered to my brain. Will I see her again? Should I try to see her again? How would she handle the situation I’m in with Jake?
Every day, Jake drifts further into a mystery world. The same guy who told me he loved me and invited me over every single day will barely even look at me. What happened to being so sorry? When I see him in the hallway, his eyes are vacant, as if we’re nothing more than strangers. He didn’t even look at me at Taryn’s party!
How does that happen?
He has no regards for my feelings and I can’t understand it. Weeks ago, he warned for me to stay away from Morgan and that her eyes were dead, but maybe she saw him for what he really is—a shallow jerk. And he knew it.
9/14
Jake’s freshman lover, Michelle, cried over Babble gossip in the bathroom today and it’s the best I’ve felt all year. I’m glad she’s hurting. As much as I’d like to think I’m a totally nice person, I’m finding out that I’m not. I want her to cry like I have. I want Jake to get yelled at and learn he’s not invincible.
This year, I was supposed to walk the halls with Jake, my fingers intertwined with his while the underclassmen slurped it up in awe. I was supposed to be the steady one that held our group of four friends together. But, instead, I’m a loose cannon that stalks Michelle and Jake, obsessing over their every move. I cry in my room at night wondering what the hell I can do. Yes, I want revenge on Jake—but how? If he really doesn’t care about me, how can I win? Should I give up?
Last night, the answer was clear. I was going to do something crazy, something just for me. It only took thirty minutes on my bike, but the ride transported me into a totally new mindset. By the time I arrived at Jimmy’s, I rejoiced, this was life outside of PHS! This is real life! I am woman, hear me roar!
Up close, the building appeared old and unwelcoming. A wall of worn, crumbling brick faced the metal bike rack, which was completely rusted over and corroding. No other bikes were locked up beside mine and only a handful of cars were parked in the spacious parking lot. As I looked around a searing sensation in my chest told me I should leave. Run home! Escape! This was my chance to turn back around without anyone knowing I’d ever come. But, then I thought about Jake with Michelle and clicked the lock securely on my bike.
Jimmy’s was a palace—nothing like the restaurants I eat at with Mom and Dad. Tremendous chandeliers hung in a line down the center, plush velvet sofas filled the sunken lounge surrounding the bar, and shiny leather dining booths ran down both of the outer walls. A massive U-shaped bar faced a chestnut stage in back with a couple guys sitting bellied up to the bar, eating burgers and wraps, making small talk. Music played overhead, but the room was eerily quiet.
A middle aged woman hoisted herself off a stool behind the hostess stand and eyed me up and down before asking, “Are you eighteen? You’ve gotta be of age to come in here. This ain’t exactly a Red Robin.”
She grimaced at her joke and I searched the room, determining how to answer. No, I was not eighteen. But, it felt illegal to be honest with her, so I nodded and told her that I was meeting a friend.
“Who?”
“Crystal. Is she in today?”
Her brow softened and she answered, “Oh yeah, she’s here.” Then, she pointed to her left, “There. By the bar.”
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Crystal was a vision! Adorned in a sparkly rhinestone encrusted bikini top and matching metallic shorts that were so short I could see the lower half of her butt. Her body was tanned and toned and a vision of perfection. Her feet were standing in clear spike heels, with the straps undone and falling to both sides of her ankles. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. It was like seeing a Disney princess nonchalantly walking the grounds of Disney World as a kid. Or a celebrity at the post office.
She pranced over at the sight of me, screaming, “No freaking way! It’s the gas station girl!”
She turned to another, shorter girl, “Back up, Marta. I brought her in. This one’s mine.”
Crystal gripped my arm tightly and dragged me to a room in the rear of the restaurant, her feet shuffling as fast as they could manage. When my elbow brushed up against her bare stomach, I gasped, prepared to apologize, but she didn’t even flinch. Suddenly, she let go of my arm and pushed me forward, announcing, “Jimmy, I want you to meet someone.”
&nbs
p; A man my Dad’s age swiveled around to see me. “What’s up?” Then, “Oh, hi there. I’m Jimmy.”
He lifted himself out of his chair and outstretched his hand to mine. As I stepped forward to shake it, I said, “I’m Eleanor. Nice to meet you.”
“So, what’s the deal, Eleanor? You looking for a job? Do you dance?”
Was I? I honestly wasn’t sure.
“I guess so. I mean…yes, if you’re hiring. But, no. I don’t dance.”
The smile on his face cracked even wider, as if holding back a secret, “You’re in luck. We were just sayin’ how we needed a new shot girl for weeknights. Isn’t that right, Mike?” Jimmy nudged a boy standing beside him who simply smiled at me. My stomach twisted uncomfortably.
Jimmy smacked his desk enthusiastically, “Where are my manners? Eleanor, this is Mike. He’s the floor manager here, so you’ll deal with him more than me. He’ll tell you where to stand, what to do, how to use the timecard system. He mans the floor. I man the back. Sound good?”
My voice shook, “Yes, sir.”
“Pay is fifteen dollars an hour plus tips. The more shots you serve, the more tips you make. Main thing to remember is—don’t mess with the dancers on the stage. They’re the main show, you’re just the shot girl. You wear plain black clothing and don’t try to call attention to yourself when they’re doin’ their thing. Got it?”
I stuttered, “Oh, I’d never. I promise.”
“Perfect. So, you said your name’s Eleanor, right?” When I nodded, Jimmy looked to Mike and shook his head. “Damn. Okay, yeah, that’s bad.” He thought for a second and announced, “You’re Bella now.”
My face was hot, “Oh. My friends call me Elle. Wanna call me Elle?” I offered.
“Cute, but no thanks, we’ve had an Elle before. Didn’t work out. Big coke fiend. Welcome to Jimmy’s, Bella. Leave your number here and I’ll text you your first shift.”
My heart flew to the sky. I got a job!
I jotted down my “name” and number and I walked out of the room. Just as I was about to leave, Jimmy ran over and backtracked, “Actually, you know what? Let’s start you tomorrow. Come dressed in black. Nothing baggy.”
MY FIRST SHIFT!
I haven’t been this excited since the time I was walking down the boardwalk and a drunk guy asked if I was a model.
Outside, I jumped up and down. My insides were reeling! I wanted to tell someone. This was information begging to be released, but Taryn is currently hell bent on me auditioning for the school play because she wants us to be actresses and start a new path, but being at Jimmy’s made me realize this can be my path. My escape. Before bed, I texted her.
You know how I wanted a change? Well, I got a job! It’s a little out there, but it’s gonna be FUN. I just need you to cover for me. I’ll tell Morgan it’s at a pizzeria. And don’t worry—I’ll still do the theater thing with you.
Huh? Why are you getting a job? Do you need to borrow money?
No. Consider it a personal mission. I’m sick of Jake and PHS and all the bullshit!
Okay, fine. So you work at a pizzeria now, huh? Do we get a discount?
Yeah, one with very scantily clad waitresses. I’ll get back to you about the discount.
I can’t help but laugh because for the first time in weeks, I have a secret. I’m in control of my destiny. This is how I take my life back.
9/15
First day on the job and guess what? Two guys asked for my number! If they only knew the truth. I’m not there for them. I’m there for something much bigger. The dancers. The lights. The hustle and bustle right before Crystal takes the stage. I’m there to be free.
Mike, who manages the floor, did his best to introduce me to everyone, all the dancers, and even the kitchen staff. The cook, a boy named Roy, is only eighteen “like me” and a senior at Maplewood High School. He’s really cool, but the second Mike walked away, Roy grilled me. He couldn’t believe I’d want to be a shot girl and when I let it slip that I was only a junior at PHS, he nearly choked.
“You’re not even legal?! Holy hell. Jimmy is more of a dirtbag than I thought. You know the men are gonna treat you like shit here, right? I mean, I’m trying to go to culinary school after I graduate and Maplewood has like four restaurants I’m working at getting into, but most people aren’t hiring someone my age to actually cook. If one of them gives me the go ahead, I’m outta here. But I can’t train for the big leagues running the fryer at McDonalds.”
He tossed his hands in the air as if surrendering to this crappy job and then continued, “Plus, sometimes the customers order steaks and one time I got Jimmy to add a chicken paillard special, so it gives me room to experiment. But unless you wanna be a stripper, you don’t wanna be here. Believe me.”
Roy was sweet to care about me, but I wasn’t about to heed his warning. I smiled, “What about Crystal? She seems pretty cool.”
Roy frowned and explained, “Uh I guess. Just be careful with her. She’s a lifer.”
“Okay Mr. Doomsday,” I joked, “I’ll watch my back.”
His eyes twinkled, but his expression remained stern, “I can see I’ve really moved you with my speech.”
“Oh, you have! Do you do this with all the new hires?” I asked.
“Hell no! Jimmy never hires anyone normal. And you look like you got lost on your way to the mall. Just trying to help you out.”
I smiled, “Thank you, Roy—really. I just, wanna stay. At least for a little while. Promise you won’t hold it against me?”
Roy wore a smile at this point that I couldn’t quite pinpoint. Smug? He said, “A little while, huh? Famous last words.”
Dying to change the subject, I asked, “Know where I can find Crystal?”
“Crystal? The dressing room would be my guess—but watch out. This place is like a second home to her. She can be a little moody with newcomers.”
“Thanks!” I bee-lined for the dressing room and found Crystal standing in front of a full length mirror, pinching the nonexistent fat on her own waist.
I shouted from the doorway, “Hey Crystal!”
She looked up, barely lifting her hand to wave an acknowledgement before slipping her feet into her heels and walking out. Yesterday she dragged me around like a dog on the leash. Today, I was invisible. Maybe she was preoccupied or maybe I’m not supposed to be in the dressing room, but I couldn’t help wondering if I’d done something wrong. This was my first job and it was all because of her that I got it. I approached her briefly and said, “Hey, I know you’re busy, but I just wanted to say thank you for getting me the job here.”
Staring at her own reflection in the mirror, her facial expression remained unenthused, “Don’t mention it, Bella.”
“Oh, you can call me Elle—all my friends do. Should I call you Crystal? Or do you have a real name I can use?”
“Sorry, I don’t do small talk before I dance. See you around Bella.”
Point taken.
I was filling my tray with five dollar Jell-O shots when the music jumped fifty decibels, nearly shattering my eardrums. I squealed and looked to the stage as Crystal walked out, wearing a string bikini and blood orange wig. I blinked twice and stared to the ground. What was happening?
I could not believe my eyes. She looked like a cartoon version of herself. Roy appeared by my side and reminded me, “Don’t fill your shots while she’s dancing. Best thing to do is stand against the wall. If customer’s want you, they’ll flag you down. But don’t walk the floor.” I nodded, and he asked, “How’s the first shift going?”
“Good, I like it. I’ll get the hang of it.” I looked up at Crystal on the stage and back to him, “I can’t believe her wig!”
Roy looked then, too. “Oh yeah, she gets really into it. Says it’s so nobody at school recognizes her. But, you can still see her face, so…”
I laughed, “Good point.”
“Yeah, Crystal’s a junior at Ocean County College. One time she had a professor in here,
sitting right up at the stage. She flipped! She kept the wig and sunglasses on for the whole show. Not easy to do for the upside down portion of her routine, but she’s got dedication.”
I was impressed and happy to know something about her. Anything, really. When she came over to get a shot from me after her routine, I asked, “I didn’t know you went to County! Do you know Michael Casey? He’s my best friend’s brother.”
She said no, but the look on her face said yes.
My time at Jimmy’s flew. Before I knew it, it was time for me to leave clutching a wad of almost fifty singles that bulged out of my apron. I clocked out with Mike’s help and went to retrieve my bike. Crystal was outside, her back pressed against the brick and her eyes closed tight. Smoke leaked from the cigarette between her fingers. I called out a quick goodbye, not wanting to piss her off and hopped on my bike. I hope I didn’t disappoint her in some way. The whole ride, I hoped she didn’t regret getting me the job.
At home, Mom was on the couch with Dad, negotiating their next pick from the DVR. Everly was in the kitchen, pouring salsa into a bowl.
“Ev, why are you still awake? It’s past ten.” I asked her.
Ev ignored my question and volleyed a question back to me, “Did you just get home from Taryn’s?”
I thought about lying, but didn’t, “No.”
“Where were you?” Ev pried.
“Work.” I liked the way it sounded.
Mom and Dad’s fixed trance on the television broke and a shared confusion clouded the room, with all eyes on me, bugged out and wondering. So, I took a deep breath and told Mom, Dad, and Everly all about my new job.
