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“Hello,” came my frigid greeting. “How are you?”
He nodded his head.
“Ma’am.”
That’s all? He wasn’t going to say more? But Mickey jumped into this awkward situation.
“So Harry’s here because he has a proposition for you.”
I stood up to go, shoving my chair back.
“No,” was my firm word, shooting daggers at my manager. “Absolutely not. You know I don’t do this, I don’t even know why you’re asking.”
“Wait, hold on, hold on!” begged Mickey, both hands up in a placating gesture. “Just hear me out. Harry here has a proposition, but it’s not for him. It’s for his boss.”
I shook my head wearily.
“Doesn’t matter,” were my curt words. “I don’t do extras, not even for the President of the United States.”
At that, Harry’s eyes flickered a little, although I couldn’t exactly see why it mattered. That was just an expression. Did it trigger something?
But Mickey was babbling now.
“It’s just a date,” he assured me, voice running at a million miles an hour. “What’s so bad about that? Nothing extra. Just two hours of your time, and you’re good to go.”
I shook my head.
“No,” was my firm word. “Didn’t you hear me? That’s not part of my schtick and you know it, Mickey. How many times do I have to tell you?”
But my manager’s expression fell then.
“Well, I didn’t want it to come to this, but then you’re fired Pearl. The Pink Flamingo won’t be needing you anymore.”
I gasped, outraged.
“What do you mean, fired? This is retaliation! You can’t just fire me because I won’t go on a date with some strange man who I don’t know from Tim, Dick or Bobby. He could be some rapist or a criminal warlord for all we know.”
But Mickey shook his head regretfully.
“Unfortunately sweetheart, it’s not a mistake. I got word from the higher-ups that you need to go on this date otherwise it’s a pink slip for you. Effective tonight.”
I literally couldn’t move, just gaping at him from my chair.
“No way,” were my slow words. “I’m a solid moneymaker on Tuesday nights. I always show up for my shifts and even have some regulars who come to see me week in and week out. You can’t fire me just because of this.”
Mickey’s expression was mournful.
“Sorry sweets, but that’s the deal. Management needs full-service girls, and if you don’t go tonight, then we’ll have to find someone else who will. Sorry,” he shrugged.
Yeah, right he was sorry. If anything, the dude was a monkey in a purple pin-striped suit who just took orders. But that was the problem. Mickey had no decision-making authority, so there was no point in pleading my case to him. The powers-that-be had already decided.
I took a deep breath, mind churning furiously. What would happen if I quit? Of course, I could always get a job at another outfit, but was I ready for that? Was I ready to go somewhere new, where lap dances were part and parcel of my responsibilities? Was I ready to let men grope my ass and touch my boobies, all because it was part of the job?
Plus, what about my schedule? I was used to dancing prime time on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and the Flamingo had promised me a set on Saturdays as soon as one of the older girls vacated. If I started somewhere new, I’d be at the bottom of the totem pole again, relegated to picking up shifts whenever and wherever I could. The money would be worse until I managed to claw my way up the ranks.
So it was pretty clear what the choice was, and in essence, there was no choice. I needed the money. It’s impossible to survive in the city on a librarian’s salary, and without the Flamingo, the options went from bad to worse. So I took a deep breath.
“How much will I be getting paid?” came the terse question. It was rude, but valid. What were we talking for a private date with some random unknown dude?
