“Hey,” she replied, walking forward with an outstretched hand. “I’m Anaia. You can split my section for the night.”
Satisfied that the interloper had been taken care of, the other girls turned back to one another, tittering under their breaths — presumably about me.
“Ignore them, they’re just jealous,” Anaia whispered, pulling me to another, more private row of lockers.
“Of what? They’re stunning.”
She grinned. “So are you, girl. Don’t be shy about it.”
I flushed. Did this supermodel just tell me I was attractive? A burst of self-confidence coursed through me before fizzling out. My moments of bravado never lasted more than a few seconds.
“You didn’t have to split your section,” I replied, sorry for having inconvenienced such a sweet girl. “I know it means giving up tips.”
She chuckled, “Oh honey, I make great tips. One table, five tables, doesn’t matter. I get what I need every night.”
Looking at her, I was inclined to believe that story. When you’re in a certain hotness echelon, money kind of appears as necessary — as do fabulous shoes, designer bags, and endless party invites. I’m not unattractive, but nobody ever sends me gifts to earn my love, y’know? There’s a distinction.
“Okay, you can put your coat in my locker tonight.”
Anaia stood patiently, waiting for me to disrobe. I clenched my teeth and obliged, once more slipping the coat past my shoulders, and this time taking it off completely. I handed it to Anaia, who took the garment with a whistle.
“Damn girl! Why’d you look so shy? You’re hot shit.”
I smiled, both embarrassed and grateful for the compliment. Maybe, with her reassurance, I could get through the night unscathed and with my modesty intact.
She stuffed my coat into her locker and then waved a beckoning hand.
“Let’s hit the floor.”
We grabbed rags and trays from a nearby bench and strode back out in the club proper, where Anaia walked me through the seating and payment rules while we swiped Windex on the black laminate tabletops. In between mop-ups and job outlining, we giggled about the show, the clientele, and Dazzlers. Before half an hour had gone by, we’d fallen into an easy friendship.
“So,” Anaia said, grabbing us both portable card readers, “how’d you end up working here tonight?”
I rolled my eyes, and gave her the short version. “Basically, I met Tate, as in Tate the owner, and I was a little… feisty. Like, just kind of a dick. Not that I was wrong, by the way, but it was out of line, like even as I was saying the stuff I knew it was a mistake. I think I was hoping to get fired, just to find a way out of this place.”
“You mouthed off to the owner?” Anaia repeated in disbelief. “Oh my fucking God, you’re my hero.”
“Wait, really?”
“Obviously! He’s such a tool.”
I laughed and nodded. “Yeah, right? All those posters—”
“Where he looks like a Ken doll, yes, totally!”
We giggled, hands over our mouths and our bellies shaking the gold fringe of the skirts. For the first time all day, I felt good. Happy, even. Maybe that’s why I told Anaia what I did.
“It’s not like the extra shift hurts, I guess. To be honest, today’s been rough. I found out my dad is carrying one hundred thousand in debt — debt he got playing the tables at Dazzlers.”
I bit my lip and waited to see how Anaia would take this truth overload. She went quiet, eyes focused on the floor. Fuck, that was too much, I scolded myself. You got too comfortable, and you crossed a line, you stupid bitch.
But after a moment, she looked back up at me, and without warning, asked, “Are you a virgin?”
I nearly fumbled my tray, but managed to stay upright. I could feel my pulse in my fingertips. How the hell could she tell?
“Why — how — what makes you ask that?” I stammered out, my voice coming in staccato bursts.
“Are you?” she asked.
I hesitated. Why was I so ashamed of this? If I lied to her, it would be as good as saying that I was embarrassed about a thing I had no business being embarrassed of.
So I ’fessed up. “I don’t know how you knew that, but… yes.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t, I wasn’t even guessing, it’s just that I know a way to make a fuckton of money. I did it once, a long time ago, and it’s the easiest cash I’ve ever earned. It’s only a one-timer and for if you’re really up a tree, money-wise.”
“I am,” I replied. “I have no way to pay off his debts, and he’s retired, mostly because he can’t keep a job and still gamble as much as he does.”
Jesus, I was on an honesty spree today. Maybe having your life tossed upside down and drop-kicked across a spiritual parking lot will do that.