FIRE | H.S.

Chapter 15

I don't want to go out there. I'm so tired of working here and I want to quit so bad but I know I can't. Although this strip club is shitty as fuck, I make good money and I really need to keep saving so I can go to college. Most of the girls that work here are here because they're paying for college. Or drugs.

   It fucking sucks though. Maybe if the owner took care of the establishment it would be better. In the women's restroom, there are about three toilets that don't work. All of the stalls have doors that don't lock. The mirrors are all scratched up and dirty. Some tiles on the restroom floor are broken and you can see the cement underneath.

   The floor on the stages is breaking on some parts, some of us have gotten a few cuts or splinters because of it. And the poles... well, we have to say a prayer every time we have to get on them. About two months ago, one of the girls was dancing on the pole and the screws fell off, sending the girl and the pole to the floor. It fell on top of her, hit her head and she had to get some stitches.

   The private rooms are small, dimly lit, with one worn-out sofa, and one pole. They have old ass chandeliers hanging in the center of the ceiling and just like the rest of the place, the walls are a horrible blood red and black. At least the dressing rooms are sort of decent. Large mirrors, bright lights, lockers, tables to put our makeup and hair products, and a few showers.

   Gloria comes into the dressing room when I finish applying my lipstick. "Hun," she says, sitting next to me. "One of your clients is here, said he'll wait for you in private room one."

   "The fat, bald one?" she nods. "Fuck," I groan. "He's such a fucking creep."

   Gloria runs her fingers down my hair, then gives me a hug. "Hun, why don't you look for another job? You don't want to end up like me. You're not like some of these girls, you have ambition. You're only wasting away your life here."

   "Look, Gloria. I've told you, I can't leave this job. I have to keep saving up for college. I know you've told me I could apply for financial aid, but that won't cover everything. I'll have to get a dorm, the books are not covered, notebooks, laptop... none of that is covered. I want to get a car... it's so much money. I need this job."

   "You don't have to stay in a dorm, you can keep living with me, I can help you get a car, a laptop, I can help you with everything."

   "I can't ask you to do that, Gloria. You already do enough for me." I look at myself in the mirror, hating that I'm wearing a fucking leather dress, fishnets, and big ass platform heels. This is not who I want to be, that is why I need to do this a while longer so I can save as much money as I can to get a career and get the fuck out of this place. "I have to go."

   I stand up and walk out of the dressing room. I feel the music rattle my bones with its heavy bass. I make my way to the private rooms, walking by dancing girls giving men lap dances and shaking their naked chests in their faces while they drink, laugh, and snort cocaine off of the girls.

   A hand snakes around my waist, stopping me in my tracks. "Don't forget to give him the best treatment," Felix, the owner, whispers in my ear. I pull my head away in disgust. He drops his hand and I continue making my way to room one. Before I walk in, I take out the pill I keep in the bust of my dress. I place the ecstasy pill on my tongue and lean my head back to swallow it.

   I go inside the room, locking the door behind me. The man is sitting on the sofa, a glass of whisky in his right hand and a joint in his left.

   "Took you long enough, honey," he says, turning his head to look at me.

   "I'm sorry about that, Mr. Mills. I wanted to look pretty for you," I say and walk over to the stereo on the left of the room. "Do you have a specific song you'd like me to dance for you?"