I wanted to defend myself and say something, but I didn’t think I could manage words just yet. I had never felt so exposed. There was a possibility I was trembling.
“Damn,” he muttered and ran a hand over his jaw. “Look, if my sister, Marley, were here, she would send you home. You’re not what we are looking for in a server—at least, not entirely. However, I’m not Marley. I’m a man, and you”—he waved a hand at me—“that body and that face, along with the naive good-girl persona? You’re gonna be a favorite. The men will love you.”
“I … I got the job then?” I asked, stumbling slightly over my words.
He rolled his head around, making a cracking noise with his neck, then groaned. “Yeah. I think you might. But I have to see the tits, darling. That is the selling feature for the floor job.”
I stared at him a moment, realizing he meant I had to take off my bra. “Oh,” I whispered, knowing he was right.
I had to get used to being topless. I nodded my head and tried to think about something else while I unhooked my bra. Nothing was working though. I couldn’t get myself out of this moment and this room.
When I felt the clasp slip free, I inhaled deeply, then let the bra fall forward as I slipped it off my arms and to the ground.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Yeah, you got the job, but do me a favor. In the next two weeks, get rid of the terrified expression. Marley comes back then, and if she knows I hired a girl who’s scared shitless, she’ll be furious with me. I’m not in the mood to hear her bitch. Ever,” he said.
I nodded, relieved to have gotten the job and equally horrified that I was going to be walking around in a club full of people with nothing covering my breasts.
“You, uh, you said I would make twenty dollars an hour on weekday nights and forty dollars an hour on weekends?” I needed to make sure this was correct and not an average with tips. I knew tips weren’t always a sure thing, and I needed some reassurance.
He nodded. “Yes, but that’s not including tips. Weekend nights, you can make a lot more than that. I’ve seen waitresses go home with over two thousand in their pockets after tipping the front of house.”
“Two thousand,” I repeated, not sure I had heard that right.
He smirked. “It’s not every night, but it happens.”
Going home with even a few hundred dollars a night would change our lives. It would give Cullen a completely different world. Thinking about why I was doing this and who I was doing it for were the reasons I’d make it work.
Chapter Four
Bryn
six months later
My feet ached as I slipped them into the red eight-inch platform heels that were part of my uniform. The lacy black silk panties that covered a small portion of my bottom along with the gold belly chain, which had a fake red ruby dangling from just below my belly button, were the other parts of my uniform. I had worked five days straight this week because two of the other servers had been let go last weekend after getting into a fight over a customer.
When Marley had asked if I could work extra shifts, I had agreed, not thinking about how exhausted I was going to be. We didn’t need the money even though Tory was without a job again. I never told my sister the exact amount I made and had been putting money in a savings account I’d opened at a local bank. I didn’t want to do this job forever, but for now, I saw no other way.
Two months ago, we had moved from our studio apartment to a three-bedroom apartment on the better side of town. I had considered moving us closer to my work. The Shores hadn’t exactly given us a warm welcome, thanks to Tory. My reason for coming here was no longer a staying factor. I had closure on my Rio March fascination.
However, Tory had just gotten another job at the time, and she hadn’t wanted to leave town. She told me I was being selfish. In the end, we’d stayed on in The Shores.
Cullen had his own bedroom now, and he hadn’t gone without a healthy meal in months. I was able to take him to the bookstore and let him pick out books every week. His fifth birthday would be here at the end of the summer, and for the first time in his life, he would have a real party. Not just a cupcake with a candle stuck in it with whatever used toy I had found at the thrift store, wrapped in newspaper.
“Here, use this,” Trix said, putting a tub of makeup in my hand. “It’s concealer. It will cover the dark circles under your eyes.”