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The man mumbles a half-assed apology and plops on a barstool, avoiding eye contact.
“Thank you,” I exaggerate with my lips so he can see as I reach for a clean glass.
Jamie pops open the cash register, his voice just loud enough for me to hear it over the music. “They’ll smell your weakness if you don’t stand up for yourself.”
“I’m beginning to see that.”
“What?” Jamie asks.
“I said—I’m beginning to see that,” I shout.
Jamie removes a wad of cash from the register and leans toward me, keeping just enough distance that his cologne tickles my senses and his words of coaching cut through the cacophony. I notice he’s good at this—never crossing boundaries into personal space, maintaining eye contact with the girls instead of staring at their exposed boobs or the nudity that fills the room.
“You gotta work on speaking up. First, stand up for yourself. Even if you don’t believe your words, these dicks are so drunk that if you’re loud enough, they’ll automatically fear that you might kick them out and send them home to their wives. They’ll behave.”
I stare at him for a second, not sure what I’m feeling.
When I laid eyes on Jamie the first time I came in here, it was the biggest shock in the past decade of my life.
Who knew I’d run into him after all these years? I’m not even surprised anymore that he doesn’t recognize me–to his benefit, Ididhave braces then. And frizzy curls,and a face full of acne–but I sure remember him. Captain of the Sawyer High football team, the most popular kid in our school. Every boy wanted to be him and every girl wanted to be with him. Yes, at some point, even me. We all have our regrets, right?
He was a god back then. Sexy, gorgeous, stinking rich. He could do no wrong. His life was all planned out for him, and he’d never have to work a single day for the rest of his life. But, apparently, he chose to buy a strip club… it’s the sort of thing I could have predicted from a stereotypical jerkoff jock. So, I guess, not much of a surprise there.
What does surprise me, though, is how seriously he’s taking this job. He was the type of guy who sailed through high school doing the bare minimum just to be able to stay on the football team. I truly didn’t think he was capable of running an actual business—and while I don’t know if he is any good at it, it is obvious he’s trying harder at this than he ever did with anything in high school; other than football, maybe.
He grins. “You got this.”
“Okay.”
“What?”
I can’t help but smile as I shout louder over the crowd: “Okay!”
I pass the drunk man his gin and soda at the same time Jamie attends to one of the college guys.
“Your change!” he says, setting the money on top of the receipt. Their change should be nineteen dollars and forty-two cents. I know. I was watching as they passed Jamie the hundred-dollar bill, and I had been the one serving them. Numbers are my thing, so it’s a simple matter of basic math. Add up the drinks. Subtract it from a hundred. But something’s not right about the change Jamie puts on the bar—there’s a stack of bills, not all singles.Is that a fifty-dollar bill?
“Jamie.” He doesn’t hear me, so I yell louder. “Jamie!”
An easy smile spreads across his face. “Now you’re getting the hang of it” he shouts back over the noise.
I point at the stack of money. Fortunately,the college kids haven’t picked up the cash yet. I cross over to Jamie, knowing it would look bad if I yelled his mistake across the bar. “You should check that change again. I think that’s too much.”
He furrows his brow and scoops up the stack of bills. He fans it open, immediately spotting the fifty. “Shit. What is this doing here?” He swaps out a ten for the fifty and replaces the stack of bills on the bar next to the kids. With a nod and a genuine smile, he acknowledges, “Good catch.” I read his lips.
For a brief moment, working with a boss who hasn’t crossed any boundaries, who is close to my age, who has promised me more money in a weekend than I usually make in two weeks, I briefly question whether I might be wrong about men in charge and their tendency to abuse and bully those beneath them, but I know better. I’ve always known better.
Jamie and I get into a groove, and as busy as it is, the rest of the night goes pretty smoothly. The night flies by, and next thing I know, it’s nearly two AM. Time for last call. I holler out “Last Call”, and Jamie reaches under the bar to turn up the house lights a notch. As the dancers wrap up the set and leave the stage, I cash out the tabs for the remaining guests and watch as they stumble toward the door. I take what feels like my first breath all night and my inhalation presses my breasts against this ridiculous corset. I rest my elbows against the bar, momentarily taking the pressure off my feet to give my ankles a break from these heels.
Shelly strides toward the bar,and with an exaggerated groan, drops the last tray of empty glasses on the return rack for me to clean.
Jamie finishes at the cash register and breaks a wad of bills in two. “Tips for tonight, ladies.” He hands them over to us. “Three hundred forty-seven. Each.”
I stare at the money—more cash than I’ve ever held. Unless I was handing it to my landlord. Shelly shoves the money into her pocket and rolls her eyes. Jamie explained her mood earlier. As a dancer,she would have made triple this.
Shelly folds her arms across her chest, her boobs threatening to escape from the top of her corset. “Can I go now?”
Jamie gives her a blank stare. “I was hoping you would help us clean.”
