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Tonight was a very fast night in the club. I made $5,000 more than expected. Usually, I'd make at least $4,000 a night; $2,000 on a slower night.
I finished my last dance and started collecting my pay for the night.
I didn't have many friends at the club. Therefore, I would just come in, make my coin, and leave. My high school friend, Kyra, use to work in the club with me. Recently, she stopped showing up. I do remember having a previous conversation with her about her wanting to quit this job. I guess her plan worked out in her favor.
I honestly hate working as an exotic dancer or whom some may call, a "stripper". This occupation makes me feel like I'm lowering my self respect for a few dollars. But honestly, I wasn't given the opportunity to go to a fancy college and work towards a fancy job. Although I did amazing in school, I didn't do amazing enough to earn a scholarship. My single mother was not willing to pay $15,000 a year for my education. Becoming a stripper was the next best thing and I took advantage of that. I do lashes on the side here and there but come on, I needed something that was going to keep clothes on my back and a roof over my head. Only doing lashes PART TIME was not going to work.
I walked from in front of the club and into the locker room that was towards the back of the club. I placed my plastic bag full of money into my purple duffle bag that carried my clothes from earlier. I then took my duffle bag out of my locker, closed the locker, and carried all of my things into the nearest unoccupied, bathroom stall. I then did an outfit change back into what I was wearing earlier that night. I changed into my Nike Pro tights, gray Essentials hoodie, and my all black Crocs. I honestly was very tired and was just ready to take a shower & get into my bed.
As I walked out of the club, I got a bad feeling in my stomach. The feeling of being watched. Luckily, my car was not parked too far from the club. I picked up the pace not liking the feeling I was receiving. I hate living on my own or doing things alone. I always have had a fear of someone robbing me, kidnapping me, or even killing me.
Growing up, I've seen it all. Living in Atlanta your whole life, you're guaranteed to see some crazy shit at least once. Social media makes Atlanta seem as if it's just luxury cars, apartments, or restaurants. Atlanta is far from what it is portrayed to be on the internet. I've had friends, my father, and even my older brother all taken away from me due to gun violence or armed robberies.
I finally reached my car, unlocked it, and threw my duffle bag into the backseat. I quickly jumped into the car and locked my doors.
Y'all probably think I'm so pussy for this lol.
I put my key into the ignition and pulled my phone out of my hoodie pocket. I opened my phone and began scrolling on instagram.
