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I finished my set that night with Johnny Cash’s ‘Ring of Fire’, a crowd favorite as well as mine. It also seemed fitting for my mood, I didn't know it then but something much hotter was brewing.
Chapter Four
16 days and counting...
As had grown to be the routine, Donnie signaled for me to make my rounds, greeting the VIP customers, mostly businessmen and local celebrities. Though my job wasn’t to dance, it was hard not to, as an artist music appreciation was a given. I rocked my hips from side to side, moving through the crowded room and cringing at the occasional pats on my ass or hands groping my chest. I learned from Tammy to turn around and ask, “You gotta tip for that pat, sugar?” Most of the time the poor sucker handed over a few bucks and that was the end of it.
“Tip? Why the fuck should I tip you?” The customer slurred and stared at my outstretched hand with confusion.
“When the dancers are on the stage, you tip 'em. The bartenders make you drinks and you tip them, too. You just smacked my ass and I'm lettin' you know that privilege ain't free.”
“Honey, you better jiggle it a little harder then.” Drunk guy stuck a dollar bill between his teeth then placed a hand on either side of my hips as he tried to shake me back and forth. Before I could say anything the man was gone. I turned around to see H pinning the drunk guy's arms behind his back and frog-marching him to the door. A few minutes later he returned to the bar and asked me, “You alright, Annette?”
The seriousness in his expression caught me off guard. He wasn’t asking out of courtesy. He seemed to genuinely care. What made the whole exchange stunning to me was that not many people looked at me that way.
“Yeah, I’m fine, H.” I nodded giving him a small smile. He returned the nod then strode past me and into the kitchen. The metal doors swung in his wake while the scent of his cologne lingered behind.
****
8 days and counting
I pulled the last dollar from the envelope Donnie handed me for tonight’s earnings, counted the bills, and stuffed my portion, two hundred and eleven dollars, into my purse.
Not bad for a Friday night.
I was almost to my goal and I knew I would make at least another five hundred over the next few days. I'd found a little place just outside the city limits that would make a perfect home for us. I already had the deposit money to give the owner on Monday morning, then a week to get the place furnished and ready for the boys. I hated that I was away from them but being so close to my goal eased some of the ache in my heart. It wouldn’t be long now.
After saying goodnight to everyone, I left the Jumpstart and walked the three blocks to the motel I’d been living in. I couldn’t afford to spend money on gas so my car hadn’t moved in the weeks since I’d checked in. Not even to visit the boys. It was too hard to see them and not be able to take them with me. I also couldn’t handle the questions and the agony of saying goodbye to them—again. While a month may seem like a short amount of time, to me it felt like an eternity.
Zipping up my denim jacket, I wrapped the long strap of my purse around my shoulder and started the trek. This was a lower class area of the city and probably wasn’t the safest place to be walking late at night but I always kept my head down and moved at a fast pace. Nobody ever bothered me and I was grateful for that.
The streets were mostly vacant with just a couple of gas stations, some abandoned buildings and a worn out looking dry cleaning business on one corner. There was a twenty-four-hour diner across from the motel where I sometimes stopped to grab a bite after work. The little diner had charming fifties-style theme and reminded me of home. Haventown had always been a few decades behind in the times.
After climbing the stairs to my room on the second floor, I unlocked the door, threw my bag on the bed and headed directly for the shower. After washing the daily grime and liquor smell away, I felt more relaxed. It was exhausting to be “on” all the time. Being chatty and flirty was my job but after a busy Friday night, I couldn’t care if I ever spoke another word again.
I went to the air-conditioning unit by the window, unscrewed the vent cover, then grabbed the envelope where I’d been keeping all of my saved money. Picking up my bag, I dug around for the night's tips. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed several bills scattered across the floor. Confused, I inspected my purse and discovered a three-inch-long split in the seam. Panic set in as I gathered all the money from the bottom of the bag. After counting it several times then dumping everything out onto the floor, I sat back on my knees trying to process it all. Only seventy-two dollars of my two hundred and eleven was left.
Desperately, I jumped up and ran outside, barefoot and wearing a thin, oversized t-shirt that just reached my knees. I scanned the area like a hawk for any sign of my money but it was too dark to see. The pathetic lights in front of the motel didn’t help for shit.
I jogged a little further down the road and saw a few five dollar bills blowing in the wind. I quickly grabbed them and walked a little further. It wasn’t until I could see a group of guys standing at the end of the street did I stop. That is when I realized I was alone outside in only a t-shirt in a terrible part of town at three o’clock in the morning.
“Hey!” Someone shouted from the group, and a few others began to whistle. Quickly, I turned around and went as fast as my feet would carry me without full on running. The motel overnight clerk stepped from the office just as I was scurrying by.
“Annette?” he called out. “Are you okay?” Joe had always been nice to me, a bit shifty looking, but nice. I turned around and saw the genuine concern on his face.
“Y-yeah, I-I’m okay.” I croaked, suddenly aware of the tears streaming down my face and soaking the collar of my t-shirt.
“You sure? You don’t look like you are. Can I help?”
I knew I wouldn’t be able to find all of that money and Joe couldn’t do anything to help me. So instead, I shook my head, “No, but thank you.” Then made my way up the stairs, holding the sobs in until I was inside my room with the door securely locked behind me.
The worst part is that I knew the damn seam was coming loose and I was too cheap to spend the money on a new purse or, at least, a sewing kit to mend it. Stupid. I didn’t know why I never followed common sense sometimes. It would have saved me so much heartache and tears.
Now what the hell was I going to do? The money I’d made over the past three weeks went mostly to the motel bill and sending Mama something each week to help care for the boys. Before I could bring them with me I needed to buy basic furniture like beds, and make sure there was food in the cabinets. Until tonight, I was on track to do all of that.
The realization that I only had a week to come up with nine hundred dollars made my heart sink. Five hundred was attainable, even seven hundred if I
busted my butt, but not nine. Sometimes I wondered if Mama was right. Am I going to be able to care for my kids? Hell, I couldn’t even be bothered to sew up a hole that would’ve kept my money safe. How in the world was I going to look after me and them—alone?
