Rebel Soul

Quickly, I reapply my lipstick and free my hair from the ponytail, fluffing it so it falls in soft, effortless waves around my face. I check my phone and see a missed call from my grandma. There’s no voice mail, though. I fire off a quick text letting her know I’ll call her on my break. God love her, she may not know how to text back, but she can open and read messages like a boss.

It strikes me as a little odd that the lobby area is full—of men. Cari spots me from behind her podium and smiles widely. “Hey, girl!”

I lift my hand and wriggle my fingers. “Hey!”

“You excited for your first night?”

“Uh, I think.”

“We’re all a little nervous the first time.” Cari winks as a man in a sharp suit approaches, and I shuffle out of the way. She gives him her undivided attention.

He eyes her hungrily before turning to me. “Is her section open?”

“Oh, shoot,” Cari pouts, batting her sooty lashes. “Red here is still in training.”

Suit-guy’s lips thin. “Fine. Max then.”

Cari nods. “You got it. I’ll let you know when your table is ready, Mr. Cartwright.”

He heads off to wait, and I shuffle back over to the podium. “Is he a regular?”

“Every Monday on even months and every third Thursday without fail.”

“Whoa. And you remember?”

She shrugs. “What time are you on?”

“Training at six. I figured I’d come early and scope the place out.”

Cari wags her brows. “Have fun.”

I scurry around the partition and stop dead in my tracks. “What the fuck?” I breathe out in astonishment as I take in the scene before me.

Tits. Tits every-fucking-where. Waitresses dressed in nothing more than booty shorts, pasties, and heels expertly navigate the bustling dining room, heads held high and trays higher.

“Oh my God.” My pulse hammers as the urge to haul ass back to the safety of my car seizes me.

I pivot around, intending to do just that, when Lesli steps out of what seems like thin air. “Stacia, you made it.” She checks her sparkling Michael Kors watch. “Early, too. I like it.”

“Oh, yeah, um—”

“Let’s head back to the office and get started.” Lesli loops her arm through mine, setting off toward the concealed door before I can even reply. She’s shockingly strong for her size, and if I don’t want to end up flat on my ass in front of this very crowded room, my only option is to follow along.

In the privacy of the dark office, Lesli launches right into everything, giving me no time to adjust. “You’ll be shadowing Max tonight. It’s all pretty straightforward. Flirt a little, but not a lot. Be open, but not available. Take their order, run the trays. Bat your lashes, lick your lips, cash out, collect your tips.”

I stare at her, totally slack jawed.

“I recall you saying you prefer sequins and leather.” She snatches a bag off of the desk. “Go ahead and get changed. I’ll step out and give you a minute.”

In the blink of an eye, Lesli’s out the door, shutting me inside of the office alone with my mile-a-minute thoughts. Hesitantly, I peek in the bag. A few scraps of fabric lay in the bottom—my uniform. Oh, Jesus.

Figuring I have a few minutes, I slide my phone out of my bag and pull up AJ’s contact card. My finger is hovering over the green button when an incoming call comes through. It’s my grandmother, again. “Hey,” I answer, secretly relieved to hear from her. If anyone can give me a little pep, Gramma can.

“Stacia, dear,” she greets, and I can tell from her reserved tone she has bad news.

My relief plummets into a pit of fear. “What? Is Dad okay? Is Mom?”

“They’re both—” She hesitates then plows ahead. “As fine as they can be given the circumstances.”

“Then what?” I ask. It’s not like her to beat around the bush.

“Your grandpa and I can’t afford the rental anymore. We’re going home, and your mom is coming with us.”

The fear spreads, filling my veins, numbing my extremities. Sure, they only live an hour away, but here in this moment, we may as well be on opposite sides of the Grand Canyon. “Oh,” I whisper, fighting like hell to keep my tears at bay. I knew from the start this would be a strain on them financially, and I’m damn sure not going to make my grandma feel bad for giving her best.

“I understand,” I say, steeling my resolve. This job may not be ideal, but I’ll make it work. “I picked up a second job. Once I nail down my schedule, I’ll come out and visit.”

“That’s good, Stacia.” Gramma’s voice is an odd blend of upbeat and melancholy. “Real good.”

We end the call, and I blink away my pesky tears. I might have been two seconds from walking out five minutes ago, but now…now I’m going to wiggle my ass into these microscopic leather booty shorts, cover my nipples with some glorified sparkly stickers, and make the fucking best of it, because right now my family needs me more than ever.