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After a grueling forty-hour bus ride with multiple stops, we finally pulled up to the bus station in Manhattan, NY. It’s so loud and different here. Most everyone has a resting bitch face and are on the move to wherever it is they’re going.
My kind of people, if I’m being honest.
The smell is a change too. It’s not a dirty smell, like what you hear about on TV. It smells like car exhaust and river water. I’m standing between the Hudson and Harlem Rivers, so it makes sense.
It’s completely different from Dallas where people are smiling, tipping their hats, and saying hello to strangers while the air smells like barbeque. Here in New York, I’ve been shoulder-checked twice and I’ve only walked a block. I don’t mind the change at all. I welcome it. That’s not to say I’m not nervous, though. I just packed and left without a real plan of what to do once I got here. I’m sort of winging it, I guess. I figured I’d get it all sorted out once I set foot here, but now that I’m standing here, I’m a little overwhelmed. Fuck it. I’m on a journey and I won’t bitch out now.
A couple of weeks later I’ve already found a little flat I share with my new roommate Carla Conti. She is a manager at the upscale bar I applied for. The decorative sign above the entry declared it Medusa’s Lounge.
I walked in not really knowing it was a bar, though, so when I applied, I figured I’d be a waitress like I had been in Texas, but laws are different here. Can’t work with alcohol unless I have a license, but I wasn’t above begging. The motel room I was staying in was so fucking disgusting with the fleas and rats; not to mention the other tenants were either fighting or fucking so loudly I couldn’t sleep longer than three hours a night. So I was desperate to get some more cash and get into a better place.
“I don’t have to work with the drinks. I can clean, wash the glasses, inventory, anything.”
“I need a waitress not a janitor and I do all the inventory myself. Plus, we only have enough to pay for one more worker and that needs to be a waitress,” she said while getting up from the table, dismissing me with a shrug.
“Wait! What if I work for tips only? No salary and I can even pull in more customers.” I promised and hoped like hell she’d give me a chance.
“I’m listening,” Carla said while cocking her brow.
Thinking on my feet, I said, “Well, I’m a singer. I see you have a small stage over there.” I pointed toward the corner of the lounge where the microphone and speakers sit. The mic has a beautiful golden snake wrapped around the stand, which matches the rest of the amazing décor. The whole place has a mythological theme going. Black, dark green with gold accents throughout and I noticed the women wearing bodycon dresses that look like snakeskin.
Carla looks absolutely breathtaking in hers with her long red curls hanging over her breasts and topped with her golden snake headband.
“I write and sing my own songs, but I can sing anything. I’ll work for tips. I just need this chance so I can get the hell out of the rat-infested motel room I’m staying in. Please?” I pulled a heavy pout with my hands in prayer position.
Sighing, Carla told me to sing something for her like she thought I was full of shit. Immediately I began to sing “Writer in the Dark” by Lorde, but before I could even reach the chorus, she put her hand up, stopping me.
“Okay, but you can’t sing your own songs. You’ll do cover songs and take requests from the customers. If it doesn’t work out within a week, I'll have to let you go. Deal?”
Hell yes. I took the deal and after a week Carla and I had become really good friends. She had a similar past to my own and invited me to come stay with her since her old roommate moved out. The lounge had double the customers two weeks later, so I took the offer since I could afford my part of the rent. I had to get used to the uniform, though. I have never worn anything that showed so much skin before, not even a swimsuit. I felt like I was naked, but Carla said I looked amazing.
So here I am. Two weeks in a new city and already I’m working in a badass bar with my first bestie, doing what I love.
I’m finally loving my life.
“Girl, your hips and tits are amazing in this dress. Stop pulling on it, though.” Carla’s voice pulls me back to the present. “Okay, you can look now.”
Stepping in front of the full-length mirror Carla has in her room, my breath catches. I don’t look like the Texas orphan I once was. Tonight is the first night I’ve let her do my makeup and, looking at the masterpiece she conjured with her sorcery, it won’t be the last time.
She made me look dark and mysterious with false lashes and black kohl around my hazel eyes, making them smolder without trying. Along with the contour and highlighting, she painted my lips a nude color with the liner being slightly darker, making my naturally pouty lips appear fuller.
The faux snakeskin bodycon fits like a glove, showing off the body I work hard for. She left my long dark brown hair down but curled it. I’m not a vain person but damn, I do look good in this dress, all done up.
“Wow, Carla. You’re a miracle worker! Thank you so much.” I’ve never had a friend like her.
She’s feisty and can keep up with my scatter brain mind. She loves to hear the songs I’ve written and has promised to help me find some answers about my parents.
She’s one of the great ones.
That one friend you just know will be with you till the end.
I appreciate her more than she’ll ever know.
“All I did was shine up your natural beauty,chica. If you think this is good just wait until we go out clubbing this weekend. You’ll have all the guys lining up to dance with you.” She's ready to go, grabbing her purse and slipping on her scary high heels.
I have to keep from rolling my eyes at her, as I tie on my combat boots and throw my favorite leather jacket on. It’s not that I don’t believe her or anything. I work out and jog every day, so I’m fit, but I’m not particularly interested in finding a man or being jerked around by men who think they can use me. I don’t hate all men for the sins of a few.
I'm just a cautious bitch.
I also don’t want a fling.
See, I’ve never actually been sexual with anyone. I’ve kissed and fooled around with a couple of guys, but we were just gangly, fumbling kids with no clue on what to do. I spent my life defending my body, so I won’t give my virginity to just any old Tom.
I want someone who will deserve it.
Someone who will prove their worth to me before I give them something I protected with blood.
