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8
Jaynee
I wanted to throw up. Sadie sat on the edge of the stage, watching me grind on a pole in my panties and bra. When the manager said I needed to take my clothes off, I nearly grabbed my child and ran out of the door. Then he took one look at Sadie and said I could leave my undergarments on. How nice of him… not.
This was the third joint we’d been to today. The first two were sleazy as hell and strongly encouraged having sex with the customers. Or at the very least letting them grope me during my performance. I told the owners where to go.
This place wasn’t as awful. It was clean and I didn’t fear catching a disease from breathing the air. So I stayed, forcing myself to do my thing with my sweet, innocent girl not ten feet away.
Bile crept into my throat. I hated letting Sadie see up close what I did for a living. This was the first time I felt ashamed of how I provided for us.
The manager stood and clapped when the song finished. “Well done, Dolly.”
I’d given him my stage name. He didn’t need my legal name or social security number because he agreed to pay me under the table. I’d told him straight up that I only needed to make enough money to afford a couple of bus tickets. He didn’t seem to care.
I tugged on my leggings and sweatshirt, then my boots.
“Come on, baby.” I took Sadie’s hand to lead her off the stage.
“You worked in Vegas?” Ernie wiggled his eyebrows. “Flashy.”
I sat down at his table, putting Sadie on my lap. “Yes. All I need is a couple of days’ work.”
“Yeah, yeah, you told me that already. So just topless? You’d make more if you took it all off. Most of my girls are beanpoles, but you”—he checked me out with a lascivious glint in his eyes—“you’re not like anything I’ve had on stage.”
Great, another Richard.
I stood, putting Sadie on my hip. “Ya know, never mind.” I turned on my heel and took three steps.
“Okay, okay. Only topless.”
I stopped. “How much per night?” I’d already checked bus fare. Two one-way tickets to Miami were four hundred dollars. I easily made that in one night at Dirty Dick’s.
“For a four-hour shift, one-fifty.”
“Seriously?” What woman in her right mind would take off her clothes for less than three hundred?
“This isn’t Vegas. Don’t forget that doesn’t include tips. But you do have to give the house twenty percent.” He grinned wryly.
Richard didn’t make his dancers give the house a percentage. Ernie was a greedy snake.
“That’s disgraceful. I don’t know how you stay in business treating your dancers that way.”
“Eh, they’re happy and willing to do more than you. You won’t even take it all off.” He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew he had me between a rock and a hard place. Asshole.
But I wouldn’t give up so quickly.
“One seventy-five and ten percent.” Depending on how much I made in tips, I might have to work three nights to have enough for a hotel room and food when we arrived in Florida.
As it was, I planned to buy microwavable mac and cheese and soup for Sadie and me to eat for the rest of the week. Making her a sandwich and taking an extra piece of fruit at breakfast had worked. I shouldn’t need to spend too much of the money Zander had given me.
“Can we go?” Sadie whispered into my ear.
“Yes, baby.” I rubbed her back. “Well, Ernie? I need to get my kid home.”
“Fine, but if you don’t earn it, you’re fired.”
“I’ll earn it.”
