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Monday|| 10:30 pm|| Purple Haze Blues Club
I collected what had to have been my 20th tip of the night, tucking the $100 dollar bill into the back pocket of my uniform. For a Monday night, 20 tips is amazing and probably unheard of. It made me think about what Fallon said about drunk old men tipping me because of the way my ass looks in my uniform. It hurt my feelings, but it's probably the truth. I don't know why she talks to me so recklessly sometimes. I blame it on her upbringing because it's less painful than blaming her. We've had many deep conversations about our childhood, and even though mine was worse than hers, her childhood was traumatic in its own way. From what she's told me, her mother was always creating division and competition between her and her sisters. Now she barely speaks to her sisters, and she doesn't go around her family on the holidays because she doesn't want to see her mother. Her strained relationships with the women in her family makes her crave affection from other women, but it also makes it hard for her to get along with other women. In the beginning stages of our relationship, we went through a lot of turmoil because of her trust issues and resentment towards her mother that she projected onto me. I was fighting my own demons, but we held on for each other. We were just two broken girls trying to love each other as women and fix each other. Some people may call our relationship a soul-tie or a trauma bond, but I call it real, raw true love. That's why she doesn't want me to meet her family, because she thinks that they would try to tear us apart. I'll never know what they're truly like or see where Fallon came from. It feels like I'm missing out on a crucial piece of her, but she's trying to protect me and I have to let her.
There wasn't much for me to do, so I just went around making sure that the patrons were satisfied and well-taken care of. I saw a woman sitting at a lone table in a corner by the window, and it looked like she hadn't been served yet. She seemed to be in deep thought as she just stared out of the window at the cars and people passing by. Her chocolate skin glowed blue under the club lights. Her pixie cut was cute and perfect for the shape of her face. I'm not saying that I was staring at her ass, but what I am saying is that I knew plenty of men in the club were wishing that they could take the place of her chair. She was beautiful. I hate to see pretty women looking sad. I only have eyes for Fallon and nobody on this earth would ever be able to turn my head away from her, but I'm a woman who appreciates and acknowledges beauty when I see it, especially since the world can be so ugly. I approached her gently with my notepad in my hand, ready to take her order in case she wanted anything to eat or drink.
Taraji: Hi, my name is Taraji. I can get you something to eat or drink if you would like.
She was so lost in her own head that she didn't realize I was standing over her until she heard my voice. She lifted her eyes to mine before they traveled lower. She wore an off-shoulder dress that showed some tattoos on her chest, and it left me to wonder if she had other tattoos in other places. It's strange, but she kind of looks like Fallon. This woman has the same nose, eyes, and lips as my Fallon. I've never seen any pictures of her sisters, now that I come to think about it.
