by Olivia Grace
I allowed tears to flow as we climbed the staircase. Sabrina cursed Justin’s existence the entire way.
“I’m telling you, Karrie, he is a fucking fake. He/she/it, whoever the fuck it is, is at home laughing at you right now!”
“Sabrina, please,” I begged as we entered her bedroom.
I just wanted her to stop. I couldn’t deal.
I just couldn’t deal.
She glanced at her watch and looked at me regretfully. “You missed work for that jerk.”
“I missed work on purpose,” I admitted.
There was no way that I could go to that dump feeling how I felt. Every time I thought about the pennies that I would make while standing behind that register in the trans fat scented heat, it made my throat close tighter.
Besides, seven dollars an hour wasn’t going to pay my tuition.
“Let’s go to the Pink Rhino.”
Sabrina’s mouth dramatically flew open.
“Seriously,” I convinced her. “I’m all dressed up and I need the money. So, why not?”
Sabrina marveled at the world of courage that I’d stumbled upon like Christopher Columbus. “Cyber boyfriend made you grow some balls, I see!”
He had. The more time went by without me hearing that romantic chime, the more the letter’s words demanding money replayed in my mind. I desperately wanted to do something, anything, that would take me out of this dreadful world and violently thrust me into another.
“Swear to God, Stahl, you’d better not be shitting me. That is a very long drive for you to get there and chicken out.”
Sabrina’s eyes were beady as they doubted my confidence.
Surely, the thought of boldly walking around that imaginably smoky club, barely able to carry a tray of drinks, with lustful eyes on me sent terrifying chills through my body. Yet, the terror of remaining me was even more frightening.
I swallowed my fears. I gulped down all insecurities. I ignored the ball of terror in my stomach, and assured Sabrina. “I mean it. Let’s go.”
Five
“Shit! Slow down, Sabrina!”
She was driving like a bat out of hell! Her eyes were wide. She danced off beat to “Happy.”
She saw me looking at her suspiciously as I held onto the seat belt strap across my chest for dear life.
“I’m trying to make you feel better, Stahl! C’mon! ‘Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof!’” Then this dumbass let go of the wheel and clapped her hands. I quickly reached into the driver’s side and began to steer the car as she danced and laughed.
We were on I–94 West by now, cruising at rapid speeds through the South Side of Chicago on a Friday night. It was definitely not a place to get in a fucking accident with anyone or have to pull over because she fucked up this gorgeous Benz.
“I got it! I got it!” Sabrina fussed at me and pushed me out of the way. Then she began to steer again, yet still bopping to this happy ass song that was getting on my fucking nerves.
Sabrina giggled as I looked at her like she had lost her mind.
“Are you high?”
Again, she giggled, “Kinda.”
“Shit, Sabrina,” I muttered.
For years, Sabrina discreetly got high off one thing or the next. First, it was painkillers that she stole from her mother after her mother’s back surgery during sophomore year of high school. She would come to school floating on cloud ninety–nine off of Percocet and Demerol. Then, as we matured, her addiction matured to streets drugs like weed, meth, and ecstasy.
It’s the one and only thing about Sabrina that I didn’t admire. I look up to her confidence. I envy her financial stability. I adore the way that her father spoils her. But I despise it when she gets so high that she acts like a totally irate and incomparable irritating bitch.
“Slow the fuck down!”
Sabrina looked at me like I was a disappointment. She snarled as if I was spoiling her fun. Yet, her speed descended from eighty to sixty–five.
“Sorry, Stahl.” Though I had spoiled her fun, Sabrina’s apology was sincere. She knew that I hated when she was on her cloud.
I responded by biting my lip in frustration. This was the icing on the cake of my horrible day. First, I was stood up by a man that may not even exist, though in my heart I knew that he did. Then, I was kicked out of school. Now, I was on my way to sign up to be a smut for pay while my drugged out bestie drove at dangerous speeds!
We rode the rest of the way in silence, giving each other awkward glances. I didn’t want to be a Debbie Downer. I didn’t want to spoil her fun. I also didn’t want to die in that car before I had a chance to totally embarrass myself at Pink Rhino.
Sabrina knew that. That is why once we parked in front of the pink shiny and flashing letters of the Pink Rhino neon sign, she reached over and grabbed my cold and clammy hands.
I was nervous as hell.
“I’m sorry, Stahl. I’m fucked up.”
Instantly, I insisted, “You’re not fucked up, Sabr…”
Yet, she cut me off and reiterated, “Yes, I am. I’m fucked up. And I shouldn’t put you in the middle of my bullshit.”
She sighed heavily as she combed her fingers through barrel curls that fell beautifully.
She was beautiful.
On the outside, she was a beautiful girl. She was a girl that we all would envy.
But I could see behind those stunning silver eyes that she didn’t believe that.
“C’mon,” she told me as she squeezed my hand. “Let’s get you a gig, girl.”
I slipped my feet back into the borrowed stilettos. The bottom of my feet burned from attempting to walk in them all day. The burn reminded me of my lost love that still hadn’t returned my text or instant messages.
My heart cringed.
It cried silently as we walked through the doors of what was supposed to be a change for the better.
The loud beat of the bass in the techno music replaced the nervous pounding in my chest. The loud volume of the music led you to believe that a party was going on. After Sabrina winked at a bouncer that she obviously knew well, he let us through the huge double leather fabric doors without carding us. We entered a dimly lit club. There were two women on either stage. They slid down the poles in lingerie that I dreamed of wearing for Justin. The women were beautiful, in shape, and busty. There wasn’t a huge party going on at all. There were only three men in the audience. I hid from them, behind my long red locs. Sabrina, standing next to me, held her head high, arched her back, and danced in place to the music just as seductively as the dancers.
“Sabrina!” A high–pitched squeal came from afar, but I recognized it. It was Rainy in all her glory. Distressed shorts barely covered her ass. A pink tube top with the words “Pink Rhino” hardly held her full breasts that threatened to burst loose from underneath it. Her nipples – they were hard. Her stomach was flat. Her waist was as small as my self-esteem.
“Hi, Karrie! You look great! C’mon! My manager is waiting for you.”
Rainy barely noticed the tension all over my face. She took my hand and led me through the club. I could barely see. It was dark, and the strobe lights were blinding flashes of blue and pink.
Sabrina followed closely behind me, with her hand in my lower back, ensuring that I continued into the right direction, as if she felt my urge to run away.
After knocking on an office door, I heard a latch unlock and then the door opened. An older woman with big black curly hair and a big bust to match appeared on the other side. Her dark Italian features were captivating. Her full lips had been perfectly injected. She was clearly in her forties, and age had settled on her quite well. I could imagine her once swinging upside down on the poles on the other side of the door.
Though much older than I, her sexual presence was overbearing.
Her confidence was suffocating.
“This is Karrie,” Rainy told her as she closed the door behind us. “She is the girl that I was telling you about that is looking for
a job.”
“I see,” was her short response. Surprisingly, her voice was rough, as if she’d smoked since she was three years old. “Thank you, Rainy. You may go.”
Rainy made an about face and opened the door. Before leaving out, she quickly winked at me.
After the door was once again secured, the manager stared me up and down as she took a seat behind a big wooden desk so old that it had obviously been in that spot since the beginning of time.
“Sit,” she instructed.
Sabrina and I moved to sit on the only other seating in the office, a sofa as old as the desk. But the manager corrected me. “Not you, honey. You stay standing.”
And there I stood.
I felt like I was on an auction block.
“Turn.”
I turned in a slow circle as instructed. I caught Sabrina doing a terrible job at holding in a snicker.
Once I was face to face with the auctioneer again, she told me, “I’m Rosetta, but everyone calls me Rosie, got it?”
She was femininely barking at me like a female mob boss.
I liked it.
Her confidence and lack of fear was intriguing.
I nodded quickly. “Got it.”
She continued to eye my physique as she asked, “You want a job, huh?”
“Yea,” I spoke nervously. “I mean, yes. I am interested in the hostess position.”
Rosie made me even more uncomfortable when she laughed. “Oh, we filled that position, honey.”
I could hear Sabrina smack her lips behind me.
I was honestly relieved.
The extra money would have been a dream. Having the guts to actually wear those short shorts and six inch heels, while serving beer without falling on my ass, was a fantasy.
“But we are looking for a redheaded dancer.”
Before I could even respond to Rosie’s completely ridiculous insinuation, Sabrina’s laughter filled the air. Yet, she quickly ceased laughing when Rosie looked at her like she would shoot Sabrina in the fucking eye ball if she didn’t shut up.
“You’re perfect, darling,” Rosie ensured me. “Bella bambina!”
I could hear Sabrina muttering under her breath behind my shaking legs. “Did she just call you a bitch?”
I ignored her and the urge to laugh and spoke to Rosie. “Me?”
I wasn’t even entertaining the thought, but the fact that she even considered me had me beyond bewildered.
“Sure thing. You are girl‒next‒door sexy. You will fulfill every man’s young girl fetish…”
“She’ll pass.” Sabrina spoke my resistance before I could get past the shock in order to utter the words myself. “Let’s go, Stahl.”
Before I could respond to this ridiculous notion, Sabrina’s hand was around my arm and she was pushing me towards the door.
She swung it open as Rosie told me, “Think about it.”
Sabrina shot back quickly, “She won’t,” as she marched me out of the door.
She marched right by her cousin, Rainy, who watched us suspiciously as we got the hell out of there.
“I’ll call you later,” she told her as we whizzed by her.
I continuously stumbled in the borrowed heels as I attempted to walk as quickly as Sabrina was pushing me.
As soon as we scooted by the bouncer and were outside, she began to laugh hysterically.
“Fuck you, Sabrina. You get me in the strangest shit, I swear.”
She doubled over laughing, leaning against the brick of the building. The pink lights of the Pink Rhino neon sign were flashing against her skin as she laughed so hard that she nearly came to tears.
I began to search behind the trees and behind light poles. I even kicked off the heels, kneeled down, and looked under her Benz.
“What the hell are you looking for?”
“Ashton Kutcher,” I revealed as if it were obvious. “Because obviously I’m being punk’d!”
Sabrina’s laughter was now unstoppable. Even I had to laugh. This was the perfect fucked up ending to a miserable day.
“I’ve just been one big reality show today. First, I was Catfish’d. Now, I am being punk’d. Where are the cameras?!”
Six
Two days later, I was standing in the middle of Sabrina’s carpeted bedroom floor.
I’d stripped down to my bra and panties. I stuffed my feet into a pair of her tallest heels, which felt like hell in the form of an expensive shoe.
Standing in front of her mirror with my hands on my knees and back arched to the extreme, I attempted to roll my hips and “twerk” like I’ve seen women do so many times on YouTube.
“Shit, you twerk better than Miley Cyrus!”
Katy Perry’s “Dark Horse” was blasting through the iPhone dock next to her bed. There Sabrina sat, on the bed, looking at me with wide, encouraging eyes.
“Bible?”
“Bible,” she assured me.
I glanced at myself in the floor length mirror a few feet away from me. I looked like a pale redheaded ghost with no rhythm but awesome designer shoes.
“Dip lower!”
I did as Sabrina instructed. I dipped lower than I ever had before.
I thought my knees were going to give out and break in two.
“Now pop your ass! Smack your butt!” Sabrina yelped out commands like the fiercest dance instructor. “Open your legs so that I can see your vag!”
That was it.
I sighed and stood straight up.
“I can’t do this!” My arms flew into the air in surrender.
“Yes, you can. You have to, babe.”
Sabrina was right. For two days, I’d wracked my brain, attempting to figure out what to sell in order to pay tuition so that I could continue classes at Purdue. I was willing to sell anything. Yet, I had no car to sell. The flat screen television in my house was only worth a couple of hundred dollars. Tyler wasn’t willing to sell his truck to keep me enrolled in classes that he didn’t give a shit about.
The only thing left to sell was myself.
“You’re right,” I muttered as I turned back towards the mirror.
I tried it again. I was bent over with my ass in the air, moving it like I was doing a very bad mating dance. I looked awkward and way out of my element.
Again, I gave up. I kicked off the heels. I charged towards the radio just as Katy Perry asked, “Baby, do you dare to do this?”
I answered her rhetorical question just as I turned off the radio, “No, I fucking don’t.”
Sabrina looked at me sympathetically from the bed. I fell face first into her Egyptian linen sheets. The smell of the Gain made the feeling of helplessness mature inside of me.
“Yes, you can, Karrie.”
“No,” I whined, my words muffled by the bed linen. “I can’t and I’m not. I look stupid.”
“You have to. I can’t go through college without you.”
“You just need me to take notes!”
“Karrie!” Sabrina smacked my ass.
My head jolted out of the sheets.
I yelped in pain as I rolled over onto my back. “Ouch!”
“That’s a lie, and you know it!”
I knew that it was a lie. I didn’t bother arguing with her.
I lay there staring at the ceiling through strands of my red hair that were in my face. Sabrina was right. I had to do this.
“Have you talked to him?”
Him.
Sabrina knew. She knew that I was in a bad mental space, but it was ten times more dramatic because I hadn’t talked to Justin.
“No,” I answered ever so sadly.
Justin had continued to ignore my pleas to chat. I’d completely stalked his Facebook page for the last two days. He’d logged on and had even read my messages. He posted randomly throughout those days as if he didn’t care that his silence towards me was killing me ever so slowly.
There was no chiming. That romantic chime, which had played as a soundtrack to our love, had stopped
so suddenly, as if our movie had come to an end.
The silence was driving me legally insane.
Justin had become something that I depended on to get myself through life. He was my drug. Unbeknownst to me, I had become addicted to a complete stranger.
I guess you don’t know that you are addicted until you relapse.
Suddenly, I felt something crawling on my face. I went to swat it away and, instead of feeling a stubborn fruit fly, I felt something wet.
I was crying.
As I wiped my face, Sabrina rubbed my leg.
“I need him,” I confessed. “I can’t do this without him.”
“Then tell him that.”
As I said the words, “He won’t talk to me,” I completely broke down. I was wailing and hyperventilating like a three-year-old.
“I can’t believe that I’m so fucked up,” I cried.
Sabrina smacked her lips. She looked at me like I was silly, continuing to rub my leg soothingly, as I attempted to stop the sudden onset of complete hysteria. “You’re not fucked up. Me. I am fucked up. You’re just in a bad place, which this job…”
“It’s not a job! Stop calling it a job!”
“Well, you’re just in a bad place, which dancing will fix!”
I rolled my eyes in disbelief, but she continued to encourage me. “And fuck cyber guy! You don’t need him, Karrie. You have me. I am going to be there every step of the way, making it rain on my hoe!”
Her attempt to be ghetto was so lame. “Don’t do that at the club,” I told her as my tears were finally relieved by her humor.
She smiled brightly. “So you’re going?!”
I nodded reluctantly.
She jumped out of the bed and danced around. I think that she was just happy to have a reason to get out of this house on the nights that I would dance. She even promised to be my chauffeur until I was able to buy a car.
She skipped out of the room, telling me, “I’ll be back. Going to get us drinks. This is a celebration!”
Normally, I wasn’t a drinker. For years, Tyler drank so much that alcohol left a bad taste in my mouth. I didn’t start drinking it until about a year ago; usually while hanging out with Sabrina and peer pressure had forced me to look cool and underage drink.
But, considering the way that I felt, a shot of Sabrina’s favorite, vodka, didn’t sound so bad.
