Mr Garcia
“Thank you.”
I sit down in the closest seat, and Anne-Marie disappears, the door clicking closed behind her. The room falls silent, and I drag my eyes up to the other girl who is waiting. She gives me a lopsided smile.
“Hi,” I say softly.
“Hi.”
We fall silent again, and finally she whispers, “What the hell am I doing here?”
“I know. Me, too.”
She moves to sit beside me so that nobody can hear us. “You need to tell me to leave. This shit is crazy.”
“If you tell me first,” I whisper back. “Are you here for the bar job?”
“Yeah.”
“Me, too. I’m broke.”
“Same. I’m studying. I’m Kayla, by the way.”
“Same.” I smile. “I’m April.”
“What are you studying?”
“Law.” I look around nervously. “Is this place even legal?”
“Who knows?” Kayla shrugs. “I’m studying medicine. In my third year.”
I smile, feeling a little at ease. Kayla is attractive and obviously intelligent. “Apparently, they pay seventy pounds an hour, and you work ten-hour shifts.” She whispers.
“Shit, really? God, I could do with that.”
“Me, too. I’m living in the biggest dump on Earth.”
“Well, I’m on campus, and it is literally Hell.”
“I did that my first year. Never again. Let’s hope we both get the job so that we at least know one person.”
The door opens, and a beautiful woman with a black bob comes into view. “Hello.” She smiles and looks between us. She’s gorgeous, made up to the nines with a full face of makeup and red lipstick. “My name is Porsha. I’m the manager here.”
“Hello.” We both smile.
Porsha looks between us with calculating eyes. This woman is no pushover. I can tell already.
“Who was first here?” she asks.
“Me,” Kayla says nervously, standing. “I’m Kayla.”
“Hello, Kayla.” Porsha smiles. “This way.” She turns and walks into the office, and Kayla gives me a nervous shake of her head.
“Good luck,” I mouth.
“Thanks,” she mouths back before disappearing into the office and closing the door behind her.
I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling. There are old-fashioned paintings on it, as if it’s the Sistine Chapel.
Wow… weird.
This place really is something. I wonder what used to be in this building?
I wait for fifteen minutes, and then the door opens. I watch as Kayla shakes Porsha’s hand. “Thank you for the opportunity, I’m really excited,” she says.
Oh, she must have gotten the job.
“Take a seat, Kayla. I will be with you after I interview April.”
“Okay, thanks.” Kayla hunches her shoulders together and sits down. “Good luck,” she mouths to me.
“Hello, April, nice to meet you,” Porsha smiles at me and holds out her hand to mine. She then holds the door open for me. “Please take a seat.”
After shaking her hand, I sit down at the huge, black desk.
Porsha sits down opposite me, and she studies me intently. “Welcome.”
“Thanks.”
She has an air about her that’s powerful and confident. She waits for me to speak, as if assessing everything that I do and say.
“So, tell me… why are you here?”
“I…” I pause. “I’m applying for the bar position.”
“And what do you know about Club Exotic?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. I’m hoping you can shed some light on the position.”
She sits back with a knowing smile and crosses her legs. “Tell me about yourself.”
I shrug. “What do you want to know?”
She raises an eyebrow. “All of it.”
“I’m twenty-five. American.”
“I can hear that.”
“I’m studying law here in London on a scholarship.”
“Are you currently working?”
“Yes, in a coffee house in Kensington.”
“And you aren’t happy there?”
“I am, but it doesn’t pay enough, and I need to find a new apartment.”
“Okay,” she replies. “Tell me about your financial situation.”
Fuck, that’s a bit personal.
“April, don’t waste my time. Why do you need this job, darling?”
Something inside me snaps. “Because all of my money is tied up in my house at home in The States, and my bastard ex-husband won’t get out of it so I can sell it.”
She smiles as if happy with my answer. “So, you’re starting again?”
I nod, slightly embarrassed. I bet her ex-husband wouldn’t get away with this shit. “Yes, I am.”
“Can you stand up for me?” I frown as she stands and comes around to my side of the desk. “Stand.”
Huh?
I do as she asks anyway, and she circles me, looking me up and down. She holds my hair up and studies my face. She runs her hand down over my hip, and then she tilts her head.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I think I have another role for you.”
I frown.
“Please, take a seat.” She sits back down and links her fingers together in front of her. “Let me tell you about Club Exotic.”
I grip my resume on my lap. Does she even want to see it? I worked on this for hours last night.
“We’re the most exclusive gentlemen’s club in London,” she goes on. “And we have franchises all over the world.”
Exclusive? Please, give me a break.