Chapter Two
Nikki
Never in a million years did I think that I’d be walking in through the back entrance to Tassels and stowing my backpack in a small locker with my name on it. For seven years, since I was cut loose from foster care, I’ve managed to scrimp and save to keep myself out of places like this, and all it took was one bad month. One lost job and here I am. Broker than a joke and desperate to not wind up on the streets because I can’t afford to pay my rent.
Tying a small black apron over the tiny black dress that was waiting in the locker with my name on it, I slip my feet into the uncomfortably high heels that my friend Star loaned me this morning. They make my feet hurt almost instantly, but I still have to admit that my legs look killer in them. If they get me more tips it’ll be worth the suffering. Straightening my spine, I make a conscious effort to gather my confidence as I make my way toward the lights and music coming from the bar. I know better than to show even the slightest hint of weakness in a place like this.
Star, Starla, is making her rounds on the floor when I step from the dimly lit hall into the bar itself. I’ve never set foot in a club before and I can’t stop my eyes from darting around the crowded space. Everywhere my eyes land they’re greeted by mostly naked women, all of them cut from pretty much the same cloth. Tall, slender with big hair and bigger… assets.
Star glances my way and graces me with her beauty queen smile as she strokes her hand flirtatiously down the arm of the man she’s talking to before stepping away and cutting through the crowd to my side.
“Nikki!” she gushes, her perfect teeth flashing in perfect contrast to her mocha skin and crimson lips, “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show up tonight.”
I sigh softly and plaster an equally huge, completely insincere smile on my face before answering her. “I couldn’t afford to skip this opportunity, Star, and you know it.”
Her smile falters infinitesimally before she puts it back in place with an elegant nod of her perfectly coiffed head. She reminds me of a silver screen actress. Every inch of her glowing and made up to perfection. Star is every inch the star of Tassels. Its queen so to speak. Normally I’d do my best to steer clear of an exotic dancer. It feels wrong to call Star a stripper, even though I know that’s what she is. She lives in the apartment next to mine, and since there’s no one else in our building close to the same age, we bonded. First, over Saturdays in the laundry room, before moving on to coffee or brunch afterward. I always offered coffee since I didn’t make enough money at my job working as a gift shop cashier to splurge on meals, but Star never seemed to have that problem. Sometimes a brunch buffet on Sundays with Star at one of the big casinos would be the best meal I had all week.
She’s my friend. Pretty much the only one I’ve made since I moved here a few months ago looking for a much-needed change of scenery. News flash, that was a mistake. Story of my life.
When Star heard that I’d lost my job, and barely had the money to cover my rent, she offered me a job waitressing here at Tassels. I wasn’t in a hurry to accept the position, but when I couldn’t even get hired to flip burgers at a fast-food joint, I knew I was going to have to lower my standards and take her up on the offer of employment.
Before tonight, I considered myself above this kind of establishment, above this kind of work. Realistically I know that no job is below me if it keeps a roof over my head and food in my belly, but it’s the principle of it. The one promise I made to myself when I graduated from high school was that no matter what it took, I would never be a stripper like my mother and nothing is going to change my mind about that. My mother threw a chunk of concrete at a man after he insulted her dancing abilities. She was convicted of assault and sentenced to ten years in prison. Since I had no other family that was interested in stepping up and giving me a place to stay, my ass landed in the system.
Spending all four years of high school in foster care in the small town I grew up in, with everyone knowing what had happened to mama, well let’s just say that it wasn’t a cakewalk and leave it at that. Because of her, everyone assumed that I was slutty and somehow, they even managed to put it in the senior yearbook that I was the one voted most likely to be a stripper. Needless to say, walking in here tonight, even if it’s just to serve drinks, is one of the lowest points in my life.
“I know, babe.” Star finally answers, regret dimming her eyes. “It’s only serving drinks. It won’t be too bad, and something else will turn up.”
I haven’t been in Vegas long, but I know that’s not true. Tassels has a reputation of not letting go once you start working here. I did my research and if there had been any other option, believe me, I would have taken anything, even cleaning public toilets, if it meant I didn’t have to accept a job here. This is not where I want to ride out the next six months of my life, let alone end up tied to it forever. Like Star seems to be. I’ve gotten to know her well enough that when she lets her guard down, I can see the sadness hiding in the depths of her ebony eyes. I don’t think she wants this life any more than I do, but I haven’t felt comfortable prying. We all have things we’d like to keep to ourselves.
I’ve been trying to piece together a plan that will get me out of here, out of Las Vegas entirely, even if it means going back to Podunk, Alabama, and bagging groceries at the Piggly Wiggly. That’s the reality I left behind six months ago when I had this crazy idea that getting out of the trailer park, and as far away from my hometown as possible, would change everything for me. Instead, I found out that my minimal education and lack of work experience still equals a lack of opportunity. Even in shiny Las Vegas. Plus, living here is more expensive. I wasn’t counting on that.
At least no one from back home is here to see me hit rock bottom.
Fuck my life.
I didn’t expect it, but serving drinks is hard work! Star insisted that she be the one to show me the ropes, so for the past several hours I’ve been chasing her around the floor as she stops by table after table, taking orders, making conversation, and flirting with every single man in the club. I don’t stand a chance here. For one, I’m just not that sociable. Second, I hate men who assume that because I’m working in this establishment, they’re at liberty to touch and talk to me any way they want. As if I am of no consequence other than what they want from me. It makes me sick and I know without a doubt that accepting this job was a big, fat mistake. One of many I’ve made during the past year of my life.
My first and biggest mistake was falling for Ronny Davis when he said he’d been interested in me since high school but never made a move. Supposedly because of what the predominant opinion about me was. He said all the right things, even took me to a fancy dinner in Mobile. Before I knew it, I thought I had a boyfriend for the first time in my life. Turns out I’m a sucker and all I was to Ronny was a bet that the Friday night bowling league had going about who could get in my pants first. Ronny got the first crack at me and I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Right into the backseat of his Ford F-250 where, at twenty-four years old, I gave up my virginity to the guy who had been the football star in our small town and the prom king our senior year. I could hardly believe my good luck and thought that finally, things were going to change for me.