Chapter 3: Claudine

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Crap. I overslept. I don't have an alarm clock so I rely heavily on instinct to wake up at the right time. It's 5:15. I rush out of the room, careful not to wake anyone else up. Today I have a morning shift at the cafe down on Crimily Road(called Lucy's) and a shift at the stripper club, situated a few blocks away. Wait. No. Correction, I have a shift at the bar tonight until 10.  I grab a piece of toast before I leave the house(well, technically it's bread since we haven't used the toaster since the energy bills increased by 5%, 3 winters ago).

A cold, swift breeze brushed past me sending a shiver down my spine. I don't have much to protect me from the cold. You'd think it was summer by what I'm wearing. A cropped tank top I've worn since I was 13, and a battered jumper is all I have. Well, that, plus some tracksuit I had as part of my old school uniform. It's a bit small and rides up to my ankles, but it's better than nothing.

I arrive at Lucy's at around 5:50. Shit, I don't have much time. As I open the door, I'm greeted with one of Lucy's signature smiles but then it disappears and her brows knit and a frown spawns. "You alright, love?" The elderly woman asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine I just umm, fell down the stairs last night. It was just so late and too dark and I'm way too clumsy." I nervously laugh.

"Why didn't you just turn the lights on, love?" Not convinced with the answer I gave her.

"Oh, you know me, too lazy to walk to the light switch and trusted myself to walk up the stairs without falling. Lucy, would you mind if I borrowed your shower? I ran out of gas and the gas company hasn't come to sort it out."

"Of course, love. You know you can use my showers anytime you like. Don't even ask next time."

"Alright Lucy, I'll be down by the time we open."

"Thanks, Love"

I turn away from her and go to the back, where I leave my uniform so it doesn't get as dirty as it would if I didn't change out of it as soon as I leave the cafe. As I jog up the stairs I hear "Careful love, I wouldn't want you to fall again!" I slow down but don't stop. If only she knew.

I can only take a minute-long shower if I want time to put concealer on my bruises.  I go in and spend about fifteen seconds enjoying the feel of the water. Hot water, if only I could afford a luxury like this. I snap out of it and scrub my body down using a bit of Lucy's body wash (which has the comfortable smell of amber and citrus). I wash it off and roughly rinse out my hair.

 After the shower, I use the apron attached to my uniform to dry out my hair and body and use the water to put my hair in a sleek bun. I get dressed and look at myself in the mirror, I wince seeing the dark, chaotic bruise on my cheek, a busted lip and a black eye. There's nothing on my ribs but I've felt intense pain since last night, and I'm pretty sure I've broken it considering it hurts as much as the previous times. I won't cover it until later when I have my shift at the club. No. At the bar. 

Quickly, I get my concealer out dabbing it across my cheekbone and practically everywhere. I put some setting powder on top (just in case). I take out my lip balm and squeeze the ever-loving shit out of it before it produces a single drop. That's enough. Nobody questions when a lower class has an injury, bruise, or anything like that, but I don't like scaring Lucy and think it would be horrendous if I served someone looking like I did 8 minutes ago. 

I check the time-Yikes! Work's starting in under a minute. I grab all my makeup products and my apron and shove it all into the big pocket of my dress. Sprinting down the stairs, much to Lucy's disapproval, I manage to put my makeup in my locker alongside my apron and start my shift, greeting a regular customer.

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It's 6 p.m. and I'm at the club half an hour before my shift starts so that I can get ready. It looks slightly different than usual but I'm sure it's because I'm tired. It has a rustic look rather than its flashy signs but maybe Mrs Risterner, the owner of the club and my boss, decided not to turn the lights on today. In the corner, I see a pool table. Wow. They've upgraded, that's the first time I've seen it although, it does look second-hand having some scuff marks around the edges. Oh well.

I go to the back to get changed. I search my cubby seeing my bartender's uniform, a liquid eyeliner and a sultry, crimson shade of lipstick and there it is. The black dress I wear at the club. It's got a plunging neckline and fabric that presses tightly against my skin showing off my curves and A LOT of cleavage. It's not the attire I feel the most comfortable in but...I get the most and highest tips doing what I do at the club.

I step into the dress, careful when I reach my chest trying to gently get it over my rib. It still makes contact, forcing a wince out of me but apart from that, I got it on smoothly. There are a few tiny holes on the side of the dress around my hips but, Mrs Risterner is fine with it because it makes customers want more. Which, I know doesn't sound great, but it does mean I'll make more for the night.

Before I left the staff room, I applied my lipstick careful not to smudge it and painted a small eyeliner wing that was, slightly disproportional but would have to do. I took a deep breath and left the staff room surprised not to have seen Mrs Risterner yet. Not sure if I was ready for the possibility of having to go home with a client or use one of the "special" rooms upstairs.



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