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“What's terrible?”
“That I can't remember the last time I saw him. Like, I think he was there for Christmas Eve, but my mom had a huge party, so I don't even remember if I saw him. Oh, Calla, what do I do?”
I looked around our apartment, and I knew exactly what we needed to do. “The first thing that we’re going to do is hide all the booze.” I pointed to the top of our cabinets, where we had at least ten bottles of liquor, and a few other bottles of wine that had been given to us as gifts.
She made a face. “Yeah, I guess that would be a good idea. And, then, I'm also going to have to hide my lingerie that’s hung in the back of my closet in the trunk.” The trunk. It was where we hid everything we were embarrassed about when someone important was coming over. Sex toys, condoms, porn, and any lingerie that we had. The trunk was infamous. We never actually told guys about it, but somehow they already knew. I think it was just that type of talk that happened in the gym when guys were showering together or doing something else equally manly. Not that a bunch of straight guys in the shower was that manly.
“I will vacuum and dust before work tonight. I'm sure it'll be fine. How long is he staying?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I mean he’ll probably just come for dinner tonight, and then stay for his meeting in the morning. I doubt he’ll stay any longer than that. It would definitely fill his quota for family time for the year. Wait. Did you just say that you have to work tonight? But it's Thursday.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I'm on tonight, tomorrow, and Saturday. Though I'm not really sure how it works. If I get a date tonight, then would I see someone else tomorrow? It seems kind of weird to me.”
She shook her head. “It's all weird to me.”
She decided not to press any further, and stood up, moving over to the kitchen where she grabbed a stool so she could start to pretend to reach the bottles. After she had missed three times, I offered to trade places with her. I could tell she wanted to do it on her own, but short girl problems made her realize she needed my help.
Chapter Eight
As I arrived at the club that night, I felt like everyone's eyes were on me. I had barely walked through the door when Monique pulled me aside by the arm.
“Everyone is talking. They've seen it all on the news. Has anyone come to you?”
I shook my head. “No. No cops, no reporters, no one knew I was there. I don't know how you got that detective to keep his mouth shut but thank you.” I felt like I was on pins and needles all week. Anytime someone opened the door in one of my silent midterm halls, I would look up, anticipating handcuffs and a news crew, but it never came. Monique had certainly done her job to keep the lid on my situation.
“Well, good. However, some of the girls are little bit upset. They've known the judge for years. So just give them some space, okay?”
“Sure. Wait, like space meaning I shouldn't be here?”
She looked me up and down. “Girl, please. No one is going to stop you from making any money. Oh, that's right, money. Here's yours. It's just a little something, but it's a preview of what can come. Good luck tonight.” She gave me a white envelope; it felt heavy in my hands. I didn't want to open it in front of all the other girls, so I stepped out into the hallway, and just took a little peek. There was at least a thousand dollars in there… in all hundreds. I hadn't even done anything, and I'd still made a grand. Enough to cover my rent for almost two months. I walked back into the dressing room, and put my money in my bag. I grabbed the black corset and matching ruffled panties off of the rack, and got dressed. A tall blonde walked up behind me.
“Hi, I’m Vivienne. Listen, I'm really sorry about what happened to you last weekend. Some of us have been there before. Though, it doesn't usually happen to the nice guys.” Her voice was like velvet, and I couldn't tell if she was being sincere. But somehow she put some sort of trance over me, and I couldn't look away. She had almost translucent skin and wore deep red lipstick with a shiny blonde bob. She was incredible looking, almost ethereal.
“Oh, thanks. Yeah, it was pretty rough.”
She nodded. “I'm sure it was. I remember when Jimmy got whacked last year; it was terrible. News crews everywhere, cops questioning me for months afterwards…”
I interrupted her. “Months?”
She shrugged. “Well, I mean Jimmy had a bit of the history. And I was with him through a lot of it. I hadn't been to the club in over a year when I came back single.”
“You were with a client?”
She put her finger up to her lips, and smiled devilishly. “We're really not supposed to be, but the Madame made an exception. Jimmy’s crew used to spend a lot of their money here. Of course, a few of the guys were mobsters. But you don't need to worry about any of that; they have their regulars. Girls they can trust. They're definitely not going to flirt with some girl whose last client ended up dead, know what I mean?”
Suddenly, her velvety voice sounded more like poison. She was making sure that I wasn't going to get with any of her clients. “I know exactly what you mean. But I've learned pretty quickly here that the men kind of choose for themselves. Oh, and I'm really sorry about Jimmy.”
I turned around, continued to powder my face, and put on my lipstick. Two could play her game, and I knew exactly how to play it.
Just minutes later, the doors opened, and the girls gracefully walked down the stairs into the club. It wasn't as full tonight; the girls quickly made their matches, and were sitting down in laps, and getting men drinks. I stood near the back wall, unsure of what to do with myself. I had such purpose last week; I picked my mate, and had made the match before I even left the dressing room. But, tonight, I couldn't seem to hone in on anyone. I decided maybe a little liquid courage would help me, and I walked over to the bar, tapping on a couple men’s shoulders as I made my way past. But no one offered me a drink, or even raised a glass to me. By the time I got to the bar, I was feeling completely defeated.
“A glass of wine, please,” I said to the bartender.
“You’re back.” I heard the whisper in my ear as he placed his hand on my lower back.
I turned around and was met with Hudson James's beautiful dark eyes. “I am. Are you surprised?”
He smiled at me, still not releasing his hand from my body. “A little. I thought after your run-in with the police, you might take a few weeks off.”
