He drives to the address that I give him as I do my best to fix my tear-streaked makeup while he weaves in and out of traffic. When he stops I don’t wait for him to open the door—not that he was making any attempt to do so—as I slide out and toss enough money onto his lap to cover the fare with no tip.
Behind the club I lean against the wall and try to center my emotions. The racing of my heart has my chest heaving and I’m unable to catch my breath. There is too much to process. I can’t believe I lost the money that was going to save Morgan and me from the clutches of welfare and the slums, all because I was being greedy and stupid.
Tapping my head against the concrete wall, I let the tears flow. I’m so tired of having to rub the shoulders of strange men in order to get their wallets open, or drinking with them in the VIP room while they look at me with a hunger that sets off every single warning bell. I live with fear that I’m going to get jumped in an alley, raped by a customer who didn’t like paying to see my tits or lose my daughter when the system finally catches up with me because of the mess we live in.
The concrete wall is rough as I slide down, not worrying about the fact that if anyone pulls up behind the club they’ll see up my dress. I pull my legs up and wrap my arms around my knees and cry. One stupid decision and I’ve ruined everything that I’ve built up this past week. The only way to make it back now is to let the clients fuck me. The offers have been there all week. Numbers subtly slipped between my G-string after I danced privately for them. Married and single men alike, asking to be fucked in the parking lot, mostly trying to fulfill the fantasy that they have about hooking up with a stripper.
Who the fuck fantasizes about that?
“Catalina, are you okay?”
I look up at the sound of my name being called. It’s Johanna, one of the nicest women I have met in a long time. Not that the other girls who work here aren’t nice, they are. My earlier assumption of the dancers was off the mark. As long as you keep to yourself and hide your personal story, the characters we all play, day in and day out, want to be friends. Everyone here knows me as Catalina, the woman who is trying to find her place in the world, and not Macey, the single mother who is desperately trying and failing to get her daughter out of the ghetto.
I nod, but the tears keep flowing. I wipe angrily at my cheeks, but they don’t stop. I’m telling myself it’s because I lost all that money and it’s all due to the fact that I had the biggest crush on Finn McCormick back in high school. We didn’t go to the same school, but I’d see him occasionally. We’d be at the same parties, or I’d see him sitting in the food court at the mall. I thought he was good-looking back then, but now he’s fucking hot and he knows it. I suppose having money does that to someone.
Instead of going into the club, she sits beside me. She’ll never know what this means to me, the comfort she’s bringing to me by being a friend. She’s not judging me for what I do for a living, but trying to make my job experience comfortable.
“Tonight is your last night, is that why you’re crying?”
Shaking my head, I take the tissue that she’s offering and wipe my face. “I lost all the money I’ve made this week.” I hiccup.
“Were you robbed?”
I wish I had been and maybe that’s the excuse I’ll use when I tell Steph that the money is gone and I can’t afford to make my rent payment or give her any money for taking care of Morgan this past week.
Averting my gaze, I stare down at my hot pink dress. I wore this out with the intent to let men know where they could see me later, giving them a peek in hopes they’d come and spend their money on me. I even fail at being able to sell myself when I’m fully clothed.
“Blackjack. I knew I should stay away. I knew the risks, but the thought of doubling my money was so appealing.”
Johanna places her arm around my shoulders and pulls me into her. The hug helps, but at the same time, it makes me feel even worse. I can’t believe I was so stupid. I should’ve taken only a couple of hundred and played with that, but no. I had something to prove to myself and now it’s gone.