“Right,” I told him.
He put my purse and cardigan behind the bar. “Then one of the bouncers picks you up and takes you home. You don’t arrange it, I wil .”
I nodded because he wasn’t exactly opening it up for discussion.
“Good,” he said. “Get to work.”
I got to work and knew right away it wasn’t going to be a good night. My station included three tables at the front by the stage. Two hours in, those tables were taken up by a bachelor’s party. Who on earth would have a bachelor’s party on a Tuesday, I did not know, but there they were.
They were getting drunk quickly and I knew by the way they were behaving (giving me winks, cal ing me “babe”, elbowing each other and giggling every time I was near) that they were going to be trouble. In fact, for a Tuesday, it was a busy night. Al the tables were ful , there were some men standing around and the bar was two deep.
It was just after midnight, my section had gone from drunk and stupid to drunk and getting rowdy and I was at the waitress station at the bar. The waitress station was separated from the rest of the bar by two big, brass rails that went up the front of the bar, ran high and curled around the back. I was waiting for an order to be fil ed and deciding that, even though they were my sexiest slut shoes, I hated them with al my heart because my feet were kil ing me. I was dog tired and looking forward to my three hours of sleep when Tanya, another waitress, slid in beside me.
Now, Tanya wanted to be at a pole. She looked great, lots of dark hair, a fake DD-cup and long legs. She tried the stage once but she was a terrible dancer; not only two left feet, but also no rhythm and when she tried to dance sexy, wel , there’s no way to describe it, it was just plain wrong. It was hard to watch her up there, it was so bad. Smithie took her off the stage and gave her a uniform. It broke her heart.
She was now taking salsa lessons in hopes of another go.
“I’m in love,” she told me.
“Real y? That’s great,” I said.
She laughed.
“You idiot. Not real y. More like in lust. Got a guy at my station the likes you don’t see in here very often.” I looked over my shoulder to her station but there were people standing around and I couldn’t see any of her tables.
“Who is he?”
Someone shifted and I froze when I saw Eddie sitting alone at a table, his legs stretched in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His arms were crossed on his chest. He had a beer bottle on the table in front of him, his face was blank and his eyes were on the stage. He watched the stage like I would guess he’d watch a sitcom, as if it was al the same to him.
“Holy shit!” I said, turning away.
“I know!” Tanya said. “Isn’t he hot?”
No.
No, no, no, no.
This was not happening.
“Jet, are you okay?” Tanya asked.
What was I going to do?
I couldn’t leave, I needed the tips and the hours and Smithie’d lose his mind.
I couldn’t stay because Eddie was there and he was going to see me in my Smithie’s uniform and that did not bear thinking about.
“I know him,” I told Tanya.
“You do? Who is he?”
“Pour a beer on him, turn the table on him. Something, anything to get him to leave,” I said to her.
“Is he bad news?” she asked, looking toward the table.
“Don’t look!” I said, grabbing her face by the chin and making her look at me.
“He hurt you or something?” she asked between smushed lips and I let her face go.
“No. He’s just… I… shit!”
I had to do it, I was in a slut outfit and Eddie was there.
As fast as I could, I told her my life story, leaving out bits and skipping over bits but essential y tel ing her about my confidence problem, my crush and what had been happening the last few months.
“What’s wrong with you?” Tanya said, staring at me like I lost my mind. “Get in there, girl.”
“You don’t understand,” I said.
“No, I don’t and I’m not pouring a beer on him, although I’d like to see that t-shirt on him wet. You look fantastic in that outfit and you shouldn’t be ashamed of that. Your new hair is kil er and he’s obviously here to see you ‘cause it’s clear he isn’t interested in what’s on stage. So, he should see you.”
“Tanya.”
“Un-unh.” She shook her head, gave me a “talk to the hand” gesture, grabbed her tray and strutted away.
Wonderful.
I got my drinks order and spent the next hour hiding from Eddie by walking far out of my way, putting people between us. I didn’t even look in his direction, although that took a super-human effort.
I was at the bachelor party, having unloaded another tray of drinks on them when I turned and chanced a glance at Eddie’s table. It was now fil ed with four guys, drinking beer, staring at the stage and adjusting their crotches.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Eddie was gone.
Thank God.
I was about to go toward the bar but stopped.