Buy Me

And hopelessly, I sighed, picking up my purse. I couldn’t let Jennelle go alone, we’ve been best buddies for ages, and her parents would kill me if I let their daughter wander off to some random club on her own. So giving in, I collected my jacket.

“Okay, okay,” I said soothingly. “I’ll go too, but seriously, if this place seems even the least bit freaky, I’m outta there,” I warned. “I’m not into weird stuff.”

And Jennelle was all smiles again, struggling into her own jacket. I had to laugh. My friend’s dress was so small it wasn’t much more than a tiny tube of cloth, and that jacket didn’t do much to hide anything, it was a mere scrap across her shoulders, emphasizing how tiny and bony the girl was. But my friend was all sunshine and happiness now.

“It’ll be fine,” she said, grabbing her keys. “It’ll be totally fine, you’ll see. Besides, it’s almost like they’re doing us a favor. They’ll match us with guys and all we have to do is make conversation. Don’t you want to meet some hot guys?” she threw me a sassy grin. “College sucks, this is our chance to branch out.”

And I nodded. Jennelle was right. It’s not that the guys at Hudson University were so terrible, they were just blah. Despite the fact that I’d been out on a couple dates, there was no one that I wanted to see again. I dunno, the boys at school were so immature and juvenile, a lot of them with raging acne and gangly limbs, still growing into their bodies. I shouldn’t judge, I know, but I guess eighteen year-old guys aren’t my thing despite the fact that I’m the same age.

So I nodded. Although there were reservations deep in my chest, Jennelle was right, this was a chance to get away. But I still wanted to do some more vetting because this “matching” thing just sounded sketch to me. Sure, I’ve heard of clubs that have paid companions, pretty ladies who sit with male guests and make conversation, pumping up their egos. But still, wasn’t that pathetic? Wasn’t it pathetic to crave female conversation to the point where you’d pay for it? Plus there was just a weirdness factor about the whole thing,

“This isn’t a Japanese club, is it?” I asked suspiciously. “You know they have places like this all over in Japan.” As an Asian Studies major, I’d heard of outfits in Tokyo who were staffed with “paid companions,” and evidently it was the norm there. After a long day of work, Japanese salary men would converge on a bar, married and single alike, and get drinks together with attentive ladies looking on. Supposedly there wasn’t anything weird about it, it was totally commonplace, a workplace tradition that their wives and girlfriends were totally aware of. And allegedly there was nothing but talk, the girls were nothing but platonic companions, hired for their good looks and witty personalities. But still it seemed bizarre, more like an exotic, far-flung custom from thousands of miles away rather than something that’d happen right here in NYC.

But Jennelle tossed her hair again

“Of course not, we don’t speak Japanese,” she scolded. “Do I look like an Asian Studies major? Do I look like I’m into school at all?” she asked with a breezy air, shaking out her curls. “This is just a regular club with some ‘extras.’ You’ll like it, come on,” she urged. And with that we were out the door.

But now that we were standing before the bouncer, about to be pushed out, my reservations came roaring back.

“Come on Jennelle,” I said, grabbing her arm. “Let’s go, we’ll find another place. My treat,” I added hurriedly, hoping to tempt her. “I’ll pay for the drinks.”

But that only set my friend off.

“You’ll do no such thing!” she declared, jaw set, face determined. “You’ll do no such thing,” she said, shaking off my arm. “Listen,” my friend said, turning back to the bouncer. “Like I said, we’ll work for it. We’ll do your matching, we’ll do the pairing, we’ll talk to guys if that’s what the club’s looking for. So come on! Let us in.”

And something flipped in the man’s face, or more likely, a voice went off in the earpiece he was wearing. Because he stopped shutting the door, and instead, pulled it open once again, pausing as if listening.

“Fine,” he grunted. “This way,” he said, pointing to a velvet curtain.

And I goggled. What the hell? What was with the switcharoo? But more likely what had happened was that he was supposed to turn away randoms, but Jennelle was too cute. The invisible eyes took one look at those big blue eyes and tiny dress, and we were in. So it probably didn’t matter anyways, once again, my friend had gotten by on her good looks, dragging me along for the ride.