Working Girl (23 page)

ONCE I MAKE MY CHOICE
and throw myself into the abyss, the life I dreamed of quickly fell by the wayside. Dropping out of school was easy; trying to make my way through the messy life of a working girl was much harder. Chrissy helped as best as she could, but she was too busy pitying me to be of any real help.

Emerson called and texted, but they all went unanswered. I couldn’t bear the thought of hearing his voice. It broke my heart, and I know that someday I’ll regret my decisions, but it’s for the best. I don’t have time to fill my days with remorse. I have to own my new life.

The life that was inevitable from the start.

The night of my first shift has arrived and here I am, frozen in front of my vanity. I look like shit since I spent last night in front of the toilet; visions of Big Earl hovering over me, grunting with each thrust, had emptied my stomach time after time and no matter how many times I scrubbed my skin raw, I swear I could still smell him. I haven’t been able to eat, and I feel weaker than I have in years.

Now, with my first night of taking off my clothes while being expected to pull back room tricks facing me, I can feel the lump in my throat returning, and even just looking at my reflection in the mirror fills me with sadness. Torn between the girl I
want
to be and the girl I’m obviously
meant
to be, I’ve known all along that only one would win. One would eventually rise to the top and claim victory; I just wish it hadn’t been the evil broken one.

I’m scared, and heavily considering making a run for it, when Chrissy walks in. “What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice so devoid of any inflection or tone that I hardly recognize it as my own.

She sets her bag down on the vanity next to mine, huffing as she empties the contents of her purse. “I’m working,” she says, thumbing through her makeup and never missing a beat. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“What about the brothel?”

Starting to apply her make-up, she groans. “Big Earl. He wants me to still pull my normal shifts there while coming to shake my ass here in my free time. He’s obviously determined to run me into the ground.”

Little does she know, I’m on to her. The charade is over, and it’s time Chrissy knew that I know all about her deal with Earl. “Big Earl, or you?” Her hand stills as she realizes that I know. She looks at me with that look—the look of pity that I can’t fuckin’ stand. “Don’t you dare, Chrissy! You of all people know better. I can’t stand to feel like a goddamn charity case. You should have just told me!”

Her eyes meet mine and she sighs. “It wasn’t like that. I just hoped that one of us could make a go of it. That you could beat this shitty life we’ve been given and make your own story. I wanted to do whatever I possibly could to help.” I glare at her, pissed that she’d kept this a secret. “Besides, we both know I’m not good at much,” she adds, jokingly.

Irritated, I stand up. Why? I’m not really sure, but it makes me feel better. “This is not a joke.”

Chrissy doesn’t back down, and joins me, hopping up onto her feet. “No shit!” she hollers back.

With her standing in front of me I can’t help but notice just how beautiful she is. Even without makeup on, her face is flawless. Her blonde hair cascades around her face perfectly, while the slutty dress that she most likely had been wearing while pulling tricks at the brothel clings to her petite body. My heart breaks with sadness. Chrissy is too young and too beautiful for this life as well. It isn’t just about me—we both deserve more than this.

“Let’s run away together,” I spit out nervously. It’s illogical, and dangerous, but for some reason it’s the only thing I can think of for us to do.

She laughs and sits down again, taking my hand to pull me down with her.

“It’s just a job, Presley. This time of our lives doesn’t have to define us.” It’s the first time I’ve ever heard Chrissy say anything poignant about not turning tricks for the rest of her days. “This is what we have to do now—not forever. It’s survival.”

I nod.

Leaning over the space between us, she grabs some makeup from my bag and smiles. “Now, let’s get you beautified. You look like death.”

Chrissy has just finished curling my hair when the manager comes in

“Presley, time to get out there. Chrissy you’re on stage in ten.” His voice reverberates through my head, sending shockwaves all the way down to my toes and goose bumps spread across my skin. My stomach flops.

I’m lucky enough that I don’t actually have to dance on my first night. They’re thoughtful enough to break me in easily; wanting me to peruse the club in next to nothing, refilling drinks, and hoping that some men might want to have some VIP room treatments from me. I know what those VIP treatments are and I can’t stomach the thought of having to go through it. Private dances, hand jobs, blowjobs . . .

I. Just. Can’t.

Chrissy senses my panic and grabs my hand, grounding me.

“I can’t do this,” I say in between shallow breaths, “I know I can’t.”

Her mouth forms in a hard line, a pained yet sad look on her face. Her eyes drop from mine briefly as she contemplates my words for a moment, before looking back up to meet my gaze. “Lets do it together,” she says.

I shake my head, confused. “What?” I ask.

“You and I. We can be a team. You know guys are going to want you in VIP. I mean look at yourself, Presley. You’re sex on legs.” I glance at my face in the mirror. I barely recognize myself underneath the layers of thick make-up, but deep down I know Chrissy is right. I look beautiful. “Go through the motions,” she continues, “get them back there and part of your act will be blindfolding them. Once they are, I’ll come in and do the work for you.”

“Chrissy—” I start to protest.

She steps closer to me, quieting her voice as more girls come into the room. “Don’t argue with me.”

“You can’t protect me anymore,” I whisper.

“Maybe not, but I sure can try.”

I’ve already lost my innocence and some of my dignity. Part of my life burnt to ashes when Big Earl tainted the only good thing in my life. School is over for me and Emerson is surely gone for good. This is my life now. I can’t be with him. He deserves more than I can offer.

But Chrissy can help me keep a tiny piece of my humanity. Unable to put my gratitude into words, I throw my arms around her neck, pulling her close. The tight hug conveys enough that she knows what I want to say even before I manage to whisper, “Okay, but someday, you’re going to let me be
your
life line.”

Chrissy kisses my cheek before breaking our embrace and smiling. “Deal.” She grabs my hand. “Now, get your ass out there and act like you don’t have a care in the world. Make the kiddies happy . . . and I’ll take care of the rest.”

With my legs shaking in my platform heels, I walk out into the club. The strobe lights practically blind me at first, but once I adjust I’m able to see more clearly. The stage is occupied by a girl who looks vaguely familiar. It takes me a minute to place her, but eventually I recognize her as the girl who shot up in the kitchen.

Peaches.

She’s twirling around the pole center stage, topless. I stop watching and direct my attention to the crowded tables. Most of the clients are men, but there are a few women mixed in as well. All of them stare at the stage; some cat calling, some practically drooling. But all of them have one thing in common: they aren’t Emerson. It kills me to think that my future is no longer going to be filled with him, but with these pathetic patrons instead.

Sighing, I emerge from the shadows, puffing my chest out to fake a little confidence. I don’t make eye contact as I walk toward the bar in the back and it doesn’t take long for me to get noticed.

Feeling fingers pinching my ass, I jump, practically stumbling and I’m barely able to keep myself upright. I turn my head to the right, looking to where the pinch came from, and glare at the man who is smirking at me.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he yells over the booming music.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah, you can get me a drink and then come sit your pretty ass right here.” He pats his lap before grabbing his groin and yanking on it. The gesture is more than a little lewd and my muscles tense as if I’ve doused myself in cold water.

My heart thunders in my chest and I swallow the lump in my throat. Forcing a smile I work myself up to speak again. “So what’ll it be?” I attempt to sound sexy, but instead my voice cracks. Surely he can tell I’m nervous as hell, and he’ll either see it as a turn on or a turn off. I’m hoping for the latter.

“I’ll take a shot of Patron. Hurry back, sweetheart, I’m feeling rather cold.”

His words send a shiver down my spine and it’s all I can do to walk to the bar, order his drink and walk back; all the while my heart yelling for me to run, to get as far away from here as I can. But my brain is telling me to stay. Reminding me that life will chew me up and spit me out if I try to leave.

I set the shot glass down on his table and smile. “There you go, sir.”

He sucks it back quickly and slams the glass down on the table. Laughing, he pats his lap for me to sit. I look around the room at all the other girls. They’re all mingling, laughing and generally making me look bad, so I bite down on my tongue and sit where he wants me to. Through the non-existent fabric of my skirt, I feel his hardness pressing against me. I attempt to shift myself onto his leg, but he wraps his arms around my naked waist and pulls me back. The music fades out and the current girl stops dancing.

“Thank you, Peaches!” The DJ’s voice booms through the club. The whistling and clapping overtake the room before he speaks again. “All right, now put your hands together for our newest, and hottest girl . . . Dallas!”

The music kicks on again, the bass thumping so loudly that I can feel the floor shake. Chrissy comes out and the crowd of wolves comes to life. In spite of everything, I find my lips pulling into s small smile. Her little stage name is creative and it makes me contemplate what I’m going to call myself. Continuing to think, I watch on as she owns the stage, working it like a pro; which, in a way, I guess she is. She shakes her ass and touches herself in such a way that I find myself unable to look away. That is, until I realize the heaviness of the situation.

We’re both lost.

And I watch on helplessly as my best friend objectifies herself to the horny men that look on eagerly, waiting to pounce on anything that has boobs. But more specifically, on her.

And on me.