Almost a month had passed since I lost my job, and I still didn’t have any other leads for a new one. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, either. I filled out and followed up on so many applications I lost count. Amelia tried to push money my way, but I refused to take any and would continue to do so , even though I’m pretty sure my bank account was sitting at a negative number. I would figure it out. I would. I would not fail.
And that’s what brought me here.
I eyed the black sign that simply read Pure. Interesting name for a strip club. I highly doubted there was anything pure going on behind the seemingly normal looking concrete walls. Stop judging, Monroe. You’re here for an interview! At least it didn’t look seedy from the outside and it wasn’t in a bad part of town; that was a good sign. It wasn’t the same place from the ad Amelia had taunted me with, either. I figured if I went there, there was a definite possibility of running into someone I knew from school, and I did not want that happening. So, I looked a couple of towns over, and found this place. It ended up being a half hour drive, but I could deal with it if that meant no one saw me.
I clutched the car door handle tightly, my knuckles quickly turning white from the death grip. If my mom knew what I was about to do, she would come down here and kill me with her bare hands. But my mom had no clue. I never told her I lost my job because I knew she would just worry and think she had to send me money that they needed for themselves. Plus, that would be like failing. Everyone doubted me when I decided to make such a big move, going off completely on my own, and I wasn’t about to let those people be right.
I was really working myself up. I probably wouldn’t even get the job. I had zero experience. I didn’t even consider myself sexy. My inner stripper only made appearances in the privacy of my apartment when certain songs were blaring out of my IPod or I was extremely drunk. While that involved slutty dancing that would make my mom faint, it didn’t include taking my clothes off. Ever.
Well, I might as well get it over with. I opened the car door, smoothing out the sundress I paired with a jean jacket and colorful heels that would make Amelia proud. They were actually hers. I found them shoved in my closet, probably put there after a night out, and decided to use them. I really didn’t know what was appropriate to wear to this kind of interview. If I showed up in nothing, I’m sure that would be even better.
I opened the front entrance door, thankfully finding it unlocked, and blinked a few times as my eyes adjusted to the dark interior. This was the first time I was stepping into a strip club, it just wasn’t really my type of scene. It didn’t look too different from one of the many bars near campus, other than the stage with the glistening silver poles lining it. They actually looked like fun; of course, if I saw a bunch of guys crowded around my mind might change.
“Can I help you?” a voice called from the back and hesitantly, I took a step in that direction.
“Um…I’m here for…an interview.”
“Oh, right.” A man stepped out from behind the bar, draining the contents of the glass he held in one hand, before sticking his other toward me. He wasn’t what I expected when I thought of who would interview me. I pictured some sleazy, greasy-haired guy with gold chains around his neck in a cheap suit, showing off plenty of grizzly-like chest hair. This guy reminded me of my dad in a weird way. He just looked like a normal, blue-collared guy wearing a pair of dress slacks and a collared shirt, his smile seeming genuine and his eyes remaining steady with mine. I expected him to be checking me out the whole time to see if my body was worthy enough for the job.
“The name’s Randy. I run the place. And you must be….” He looked down at a clipboard I hadn’t noticed before, squinting his eyes at the piece of paper. “Monroe?” It came out as more of a question than anything and I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
My name was definitely unique and almost always met with a weird response when I was first introduced to someone. I guess if you were from Michigan, you might have heard of it, and if my siblings were with me, Holland and Jackson, then you would probably be making assumptions pretty quickly. My parents either just really loved the cities in Michigan that we were named after, or we were conceived there. We still didn’t know the truth and I doubt we ever would—nor did we want to.
“Yup, that’s me,” I responded, letting his warm hand engulf mine briefly, and then he started the interview.
I answered the few questions he had for me as best as I could. The nerves were really getting to me as he continued on but I somehow answered him. I tried to keep my eyes focused on him, but they strayed a few times when I occasionally heard movement throughout the club, and saw what I assumed were…employees. I had no clue what I was doing. Those women looked like they belonged. Okay, yeah, I was being completely stereotypical, and I didn’t normally like to be that way, but I couldn’t help it. The few that came in ranged from gorgeous to sexy to a little on the trashy side, with too much makeup and not enough clothes, even when they were just showing up to work.
“So, you don’t have any experience?” My attention snapped back to Randy. I shrugged my shoulders. He’d already asked this question before but apparently, he wasn’t happy with my answer.
“Well, no…but I’ve danced for most of my life in a studio. I helped instruct the younger dancers sometimes, too, when they needed extra help.” Dancing was second nature to me and one of my true loves in life. I kept up with it once I moved to Georgia until I lost my job at the sandwich job, then I simply couldn’t afford for any studio time at the small dance company I had found any more. The important bills had to come first.
“Really?” His brows shot up. “What type?”
“Ballet,” I replied and his eyes lit up.
“You would be surprised how well that can be used in this business.” He tapped his fingers on the clipboard once. “When do you think you can start?”
“Wh-at?” I stammered. “You’re hiring me? I have zero experience. Why would you hire me?”
“Are you trying to talk me out of giving you a job?” I shook my head in response, even though that’s exactly what I was doing. “Look, the customers here will love your look.” His eyes raked over my body. “With your porcelain skin, long dark hair, tiny little body, and those wide, innocent looking green eyes, they’ll be lining up. A little on the short side, but nothing a taller pair of heels won’t fix.” I backed up a step, uncomfortable after he finished his…assessment of me.
“You know what? I don’t think this was a good idea. I’m just gonna go.” I spun around, heading straight toward the front entrance as quickly as I could in my stupid, high heels. I knew this was a bad idea. Why did I come here?
The interview had actually gone pretty well and Randy seemed like a genuinely good person, until he brought up my ‘look,’ whatever the hell that meant. Gah. I would just have to crawl back to Michigan—actually more like hitchhike since I couldn’t even afford to put gas in my car. Yup, it sounded like a wonderful plan: go back to living at Mom and Dad’s, letting everyone know that I failed. Awesome.
“You’ll make a ton of money; it could really help you out,” Randy called after me just as my hand landed on the door. I froze for a second, but didn’t turn around. I knew strippers could make boatloads of cash, the main reason I came today, but the reality of it hit me at his words. I couldn’t really do it. “Listen, we can work something out. I hate to see someone struggling and I can tell you are. Have you ever waitressed before?”
“Yes,” I answered hesitantly, turning around slowly only to jump back a step at the realization Randy was only a few feet away.
“Well, I have a proposition for you, then. How ‘bout you start off as a cocktail waitress? That way you can get comfortable working in this environment, and then I can you hook you up with a few of my girls to teach you all of the ins and out of the business. The money’s not as great, but you can rack the hours up and it won’t affect your school schedule. You’re a student, right?”
I nodded my h
ead, letting out a deep breath and relaxing a bit. Randy seemed to want to help me out, maybe he was one of the good guys after all.
He grinned widely, clapping his hands together. “See? Works perfectly. What do ya think?”
I didn’t answer him right away because I had no clue what my answer was. I ticked off each of my bills in my head, thinking about my bare cabinets and empty fridge, weighing all of the pros and cons. I could always start off as a cocktail waitress and continue to look for another job, finding another one before Randy expected me to get up there and start twirling around on the pole. He didn’t need to know that.
Randy shifted on his feet. “I need a decision now. I have a few more girls coming in that actually have experience, so if you’re not—”
“Do I have to be naked?” I interrupted.
He chuckled, but shook his head. “That would make all of my dreams come true.” My mouth dropped open and he quickly cleared his throat. “I mean, no. First of all, we serve alcohol here to get more bang for our buck, so our policy here is that the girls aren’t completely nude, really no different than being in a skimpy bikini. Second of all, the cocktail waitresses cover up…for the most part,” he added. “So, I need your answer.”
“I’ll do it,” I blurted out, forcing myself to stop overthinking the situation and just take the chance, for probably the first time in my life. I guess there was a first time for everything.
“That a girl.” He patted my back. “Let’s go to my office and we’ll get a few papers taken care of, then you’ll be all set. You’re gonna love working here.”
“WHAT’S YOUR ISSUE today? Are you still worrying about the whole money situation?” Amelia frowned, setting her pen down as she shut her book and hopped off the futon that was in her dorm room. Every time I came over, I was still surprised that she actually wanted to live in the dorms.
“It was all a part of the experience,” she explained whenever I brought it up. Being in our third year in school, you would think she had enough of the “experience,” but not according to Amelia. She talked about moving into her sorority house after the semester was over, but I wasn’t so sure that would be much of an upgrade. Sure, I made a few friends through Amelia since the sorority scene was super big around here, but most of them tended to be a little stuck up if you weren’t a part of their crowd. And I most definitely wasn’t—no matter how many times Amelia tried to convince me how “fabulous” it was.
“No, I’m fine, just having an off day.” I rubbed at my already heavy eyes, knowing that whole situation wouldn’t get any better. I still had a long night ahead of me.
“Look.” She pointed to the bed that sat on the opposite side of the room. It was neatly made and didn’t contain one piece of clothing, unlike Amelia’s. “Trina hasn’t been here in days, like usual. The offer still stands to just move in here. Wouldn’t it be so much fun to live together?”
“Um….” My lack of enthusiasm about the idea of rooming together caused her to glare at me with one hand placed on her jutted out hip. “It’s not that I wouldn’t want to live with you but—”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re stubborn. You’re an independent girl who doesn’t need help from anyone. Blah. Blah. Blah. I’ve heard it all before, Roe. But money doesn’t grow on trees, and last time I checked you have like none. So time for a reality check.”
“Actually,” I began, thinking for a nanosecond that I should just tell her the truth about my new job, but then I thought better of it. Amelia always thought of the stripper job as a joke, nothing more. If she knew where I was going tonight, she would probably get as far away from me as possible, never to be seen or heard from again. “My mom sent me some money,” I lied.
“What?” Her perfectly plucked eyebrows shot up. “You finally broke down and told her?”
“Well, yeah. I was about to get kicked out of my apartment. She loaned me some money. I’ll pay it back as soon as I can.” If Amelia knew anything about my family’s money situation, she would know that was a complete and total lie, but it wasn’t something I just blabbed about.
“Awesome!” A bright smile lit up her face. “So, that means you should be in a good mood, which also means you’re coming to the party at the sorority house tonight, right?”
“Nope,” I quickly answered and Amelia’s shoulders sagged.
“Oh come on, Roe. I know you don’t like that type of thing, but you’ll have fun. I promise. Oh, I know!” She paused, clapping her hands together. “We’ll stay for an hour and then we can go bar hopping. I know that’s more your thing and we haven’t done it in forever.”
Amelia knew me all too well. I tried to avoid the sorority parties as much as possible because ninety percent of the people there looked at you like trash if you weren’t part of their crowd. The first time I went to one, I felt like going and crying in the corner. I think I had been to a total of four parties during high school, so it was definitely intimidating. Instead of letting Amelia drag me to parties, I explored the downtown area and fell in love. Yes, the nightlife was shocking, what with all the bars around. If you weren’t careful, you could quickly turn into an alcoholic with the overabundance of liquor everywhere. I just liked the atmosphere and the music scene was pretty decent.
“Um…I can’t. Sorry.” I started packing up my bag, noticing the time on my phone, and moved a little quicker so I could run home to change. I spotted my hands shaking slightly, so I needed to get out of there before Amelia questioned me even more.
“What? Why? Fine, I’ll skip the party.”
“Amelia, I know you have to go to those things. I actually have a job interview.” More lies. Ugh. I hated lying, especially to Amelia, and my stomach instantly knotted. She was the most trustworthy person I knew and the best friend I ever had.
“Really? That’s awesome. Why’s it so late though? Is it at one of those twenty-four hour diners or something?”
“Or something,” I replied, quickly heading to the door before she could grill me about my answer. “I’ll call you in the morning. Maybe we can meet up for lunch.”
“Sounds good,” she called after me. “Good luck at your interview!”
FOR ABOUT THE hundredth time, I was rethinking what I was about to do, but I had to just shove that aside and get on with it. The club looked a little different at night, like it came alive once it was dark, clearly the place to be. The parking lot overflowed, all the way into the vacant parking lot of an abandoned restaurant across the street, and a line was forming at the main entrance. So. Many. People.
Breathe, Monroe.
I willed myself to open the door of my car and headed around back to the entrance that the employees used. After Randy finished my paperwork the same day that he hired me, he then set me up for some training. He didn’t want me intimidated by all of the customers, so he had me come in during the day when the club was closed so one of the other cocktail waitresses could show me the ropes.
It was pretty simple, really. My first shift was the main thing that worried me. I had never been to a strip club in my life and didn’t know what to expect. Judging by the scraps of material I’d stuffed into my bag, there would most likely be a whole lot of bared skin and a bunch of tongues wagging.
Honey, the girl that trained me, wasn’t going to be there either, so I wouldn’t know anyone but Randy. Honey seemed very sweet, a lot like her name. I asked her if it was her real name since I heard that most strippers went by fake ones, but she just giggled and continued with my training. Honey did inform me that she switched back and forth from the stage to cocktail waitressing, so I could only assume that it was a stage name.
Shit.
Was I supposed to have come up with a stage name, too? Wait, I wasn’t actually going to get on the stage. I would be okay. By the time Randy would be ready to throw me up there, I would have a new job, and not need to worry about that.
I was relieved to find the back door open, just as Honey informed me it would be, and quickly hurried in and change
d. My feet came to an abrupt stop as soon as I realized every eye in the break room was focused on me.
“Hi,” I managed to squeak out, one hand flailing wildly as I waved, feeling like a complete idiot. I was met with a very mixed welcoming. Some of the girls went back to applying what looked to be very heavy makeup; some gave me the stink eye, probably thinking I was new competition. Only one actually gave me a sweet smile.
“I’m new here. Tonight’s my first night. I’m really nervous because I’ve never done anything like this before in my life. I’ve never been to a strip club because it’s just not my type of thing. Not that it’s a bad thing, just not my thing. I lost my job and now I can’t find another one and I was about to get evicted from my apartment, leaving me pretty much desperate, so….” Several mouths dropped open as they listened to my rambling so it seemed I had offended people. Great. Lips zipped, Monroe.
So I decided to head in the direction of the only nice looking one there.
I reached out a hand but the woman wrapped me in a tight hug, rubbing my back soothingly before slightly pulling away. She was probably the only one that didn’t have a boatload of makeup on, but her almost all natural look still had her looking the most gorgeous. Her long blonde hair cascaded down around her bare shoulders in soft curls that I was completely jealous of. And her body. I’d never really been into staring at other women’s bodies, but I had a feeling she was very popular here. Why did she work at a strip club? The woman belonged on the cover of Sports Illustrated or something.
Midnight Ballerina Page 2
