It had led me here. Nevada was working in a fucking strip joint. Not as a dancer, but still... My blood boiled as I sat there. She wouldn't take my money, but this was okay?
Half-naked women were everywhere but I barely even saw them. I was looking at the men in the place. Wondering if they'd touched her. Talked to her. Tried anything.
Because if they did, there would be hell to pay.
A girl with her hair pulled back in a chignon came in from the back. She was laughing with one of the strippers. Her long neck and graceful shoulders drew my eye.
I knew her, even in the darkness across a crowded room.
Nevada Jones.
She looked older somehow. Jaded. And that's before they sent her over to take my order. Before her eyes turned cold and hard as she stared at me.
"What can I get you?"
"Nev, what the fuck are you doing here?"
She looked up from her pad.
"I'm trying to take your order."
"You know what I'm talking about."
"Do you know what you want? I have other tables to attend to..."
I watched her walk off. I could sit here all night. And the next night.
There was no way I was leaving her alone in a place like this.
Eventually she'd break down and talk to me.
She fucking had to.
Nevada
He was back.
Again.
The second night in a row that Clay sat in the back, away from the stage. And glared at me.
I felt like there were two holes burning into my back as I leant over my table and took the orders of a group of middle-aged business men.
The tequila Barbara kept in the back room was working wonders. I was almost having fun. I even started to enjoy the attention from all these men.
They wanted me.
They desired me.
Me.
Turns out, I could be with a lot of guys if I wanted to. Not just Clay. Not that it was surprising really. But I'd never had real grownups pay me the least attention.
It was heady.
Or maybe that was the tequila talking.
I was sashaying across the bar when he grabbed my arm.
"What the fuck are you doing Nevada? Are you getting off on this?"
The bouncer was over there in an instant.
"Don't touch the merchandise man."
I tossed my head and threw Clay a look. I couldn't stop him from sitting there. But he sure as shit had better behave.
I saw Sheila wave me over while I was filling my drink order.
Sheila was sitting at the bar in one of her kaftans. I liked her. She was a bit vulgar, with her cheap sequined gowns and perpetually full martini glass. But she looked after us girls.
Us girls.
I was already becoming one of them.
We were a fellowship of women. Armed against the world with push up bras and stilettos.
And lipstick.
And hairspray.
And vaseline on your teeth. Who knew?
"Honey it's a slow night and we are having amateur hour. I thought you might be interested."
"Oh. Really?"
She grinned at me.
"Sooner or later everyone takes it off. Besides, you're ready. And I know you would win."
She made it sound like I had earned her respect somehow. I had passed her test.
"You don't have to do nothin' fancy. Just show 'em your cute little bra and panties. Five hundred bucks is the prize."
I froze. Five hundred bucks was a lot of money. Besides I wouldn't be naked. Just, slightly more naked than I currently was.
What was a few flimsy scraps of fabric between friends?
"I saw the way you handled that young buck. I'm impressed. You got the makings of a real career girl here."
I glanced over my shoulder at Clay. He was nursing a beer and glaring at me. Again.
I turned back to Sheila and smiled.
"Okay. I'll do it."
"You have a song in mind?"
I looked back at Clay over my shoulder.
"Yeah. I got it."
"Alright honey. Well tell the DJ and get your fannie up on that stage!"
"What, right now?"
"You need a minute?"
"Yeah, I do."
"You got five."
I ran backstage and told Barbara what was happening. She opened the cap and I swallowed rapidly, drinking straight from the bottle. That must be at least three more shots. Plus the two I'd had at the start of my shift.
I was pretty much going to be shit faced in five, four, three, two-
"Next up on the stage is our very own little cocktail waitress Nevada. Put your hands together!"
Oh shit, they'd used my real name!
Not that it mattered. Not really. My heart was pounding as I heard the slow sensual strains of my song one on. I walked through the backstage area to the heavy velvet curtains. I took a deep breath and stepped through them.
Then I started dancing.
Not like the girls did. No, I just sort of swayed and played with the straps of my uniform. Apparently that was all I had to do because the crowd went wild.
Suddenly I was standing in a shower of singles. I looked down. There were some tens and twenties mixed in as well. Emboldened I slid a strap down over my shoulder, staring coyly into the darkness.
You really could only see the guys sitting closest to the stage.
And I just didn't look at them at all.
That made it a whole lot easier.