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Eva
"Here's your tip-out. Sorry, it's not better." Erica wrinkles her nose at me, handing me over a fistful of bills like it's not great, but to me, it's enough. Today's shift was alright, with our regulars knocking back beers at the bar. There's also a big stag party handing out bigger tips than I'm used to. It's going to help significantly with me making rent this week. Since I got back from abroad, I've been living in a week-to-week rental on the ragged edge of NoHo. Before tonight fell into my lap with extra tip money, it looked like I would have to plead forgiveness from my landlord, Mrs. K.
Relief spreads through my whole body, and I lean over the bar.
"Can you pour me a Shirley Temple?" I ask. Erica grins at me and goes to get a disposable cup.
"To go?" She asks. I roll my eyes with a smile. I'm not a party girl. I wouldn't say I like to hang out and get drunk with the patrons after I wrap up my shift. It's not that this place is bad news or anything. Erica keeps everyone in line, given that she's over six feet tall and has biceps the size of my head, and it doesn't hurt she's the distant cousin of one of the Earls of Hollywood.If I remember, it's Beverly Hills that her fifth-cousin ten times removed, Bart, is the Earl of. That kind of thing gives you extra protection. The police are likelier to swing by 'just to check' on a random night and answer calls much faster.
Noble blood may run thinly through Erica's veins; she'll never inherit and certainly won't be invited to any balls up in the Hills, but it's afforded her some privileges. Being able to qualify for a loan to buy this bar is one of them.
"Here, with extra cherries," Erica says, setting the tall cup in front of me, lid already speared with a pink straw.
"Thank you," I reply, taking a grateful sip.
"Hey, heyyyy, girl," an arm drapes around me, and for a moment, I stiffen before I realize it's Gina. She's a close-talker, but she likes mint-flavored shots, so her breath is fresh as she presses her cheek into mine. "Look at you. You'd do so good if you were on my list, you know?"
Gina was one of the regulars I'd met in my first week here. Erica sighs as she looks carefully at Gina.
"Don't you dare steal her from me," Erica says, pointing at Gina with the business end of a swizzle stick.
"What, you pay her a couple hundred a week? She could earn five times that if she worked for one of my families," Gina slurs happily, giving me an enthusiastic squeeze. "You want to nanny, don't you? Get back in the game?"
Since starting, I've learned to stop talking about myself at the bar. I opened my mouth too much when I got here. Gina was from the 'before times' of that vital life lesson. On day three of working here, she discovered that I'd studied child care and thenworked abroad as an Au Pair. Since then, she hasn't stopped pestering me to join her nanny agency.
The fact I don't have the full qualifications doesn't stop her. The fact that I'll never go back into that world again for love, or money, is what's stopping me. Just thinking about it makes my chest tighten up.
"I'm good," I say, giving Erica a meaningful look. "I'm happy here. Erica is a great boss."
The boss in question is hiding a smile behind a wash rag, trying to pretend to cough. I know she doesn't take it seriously that Gina is trying to headhunt me. But Erica picks up on my signals, watching me and then looking at the clock.
"You better head out if you're walking."
I nod at her words. I always do. It's cheaper, and my place is only ten minutes away on foot. But to get there, I must traverse some okay, and some not-okay streets. And it's nearing clock-out time, with the last call minutes ago.
I extricate myself from Gina's octopus grip.
"Thank you for always being so kind," I say to her. She gives me a toothy, happy-drunk grin before grabbing one of her business cards out of her purse.
"I'm seriously," she slurs, barely comprehensible, and pats her card into my hand before I can argue.
"Out!" Erica orders, pointing at me with a wink. I give her a sheepish smile in return.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I call her over my shoulder as I tuck my tips and Gina's card deep into my jeans pocket and duck out thedoor.
"Safe night, Eva," the doorman says, a steady guy named Tom with a face like a deflated football. He's been in a few fights, although less now that Erica has taken over at Shake's Revenge. I wave to him and move through the small crowd of smokers outside, trotting up to the curb. There's a limo there, putting out fumes, and I watch it with curiosity as I start walking toward the crosswalk behind it.
We don't get a lot of limos on this side of NoHo. Maybe in May, when all the kids are celebrating the end of their studying years and the entry into the world of service as they leave the schoolhouse for great households, or, if they're fortunate, more studying at one of the universities.
That was my path until money ran low, and I had to abandon my studies with only enough money to get over to Europe, where I'd entered service too.
Not in a great house, but one big enough to keep an Au Pair on to look after the children. The smaller houses make do with Au Pairs instead of real nannies. I could level up with Gina if I wanted, but I don't.
That world is not for me. It only has danger in it and heartbreak. The walk sign flickers on, and I skirt around the limo that's half into the crosswalk.
Of course it's blocking my path and the path of every other pedestrian. Whoever's inside is obviously entitled. I huff under my breath and try to ignore it as I walk by until one of the doors flings open, startling me.
