Confessions of a Bitch

Primadonna

My shift at work the next day begins with Angel dropping my jacket on the bar table and licking his lips. I wonder how he’ll react when he one day finds out he did not in fact, fuck me. A couple of sleeping tablets put an end to that. Truth be told, I think it’s time I invested in some more. I grab the jacket and throw it on the floor, making a mental note to take it once my shift finishes. It’s day two in this club, and I have a feeling I’m not going to get very far.

David didn’t look so impressed when I returned home at two forty five in the morning. “Where the hell were you?” he had asked through gritted teeth.  I didn’t give a concise answer, and he spent the remainder of the day either moping around like a moron, or staring at his laptop and phone.

So, it was a surprise when he didn’t say anything as I left the house, wearing a long coat over my provocative outfit.

Throughout my five hour shift, people come and order their drinks from the bar. Some however, are stupid. A guy asked me what was in Tequila. My reply was, “Shit that makes you happy and tipsy.” Macy told me to calm down and be nice. She had bills and workers to pay. At times when no once comes and disturbs me in my little space, filled with alcohol and glass bottles, I watch the girls on stage. Most of them are hot and have bodies to die for. At times I steal small glances at Macy. I think she wanted to be a stripper, but lacked something needed in the industry. Maybe she’s a shit dancer.

Sometimes I can’t help but notice how the strippers remain impassive when groped by half drunken men, who are either on the dole or earn minimum wage. I would have punched someone already, or done worse.

Angel only stays at the club for thirty minutes before leaving with a woman on his arm. Who knows, maybe he’ll get lucky? Hopefully she doesn’t end up in the sewer. At seven o’clock, my shift finishes. Macy places four hundred dollars in cash, on the table. “Your pay,” she says briskly, before turning around and walking away. I take the money from the table and pick my jacket from the floor.

On my way to the room behind the velvet curtains, some men wolf whistle at me. I flash a brief smile and increase my pace across the rouge carpet. Play along, Amanda. Play along. I enter the room and breathe a small sigh of relief. As I begin removing my shirt, I hear the curtains rustle and turn around to find a girl around my age, standing in front of the curtain.

“Hey,” she says with a grin. She wears next to nothing. Her makeup has been elaborately caked onto her face, and she has a diamond tattoo on her thigh. Her platinum hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders and her green eyes shine brightly.

“Hi,” I reply.

She looks closely at me for a moment, before asking, “So you’re the new girl, right?”

I nod my head. She looks strangely familiar. “Have we met before?”

She nods her head. “Yeah. I’m Primadonna.”

“Oh yeah!” I almost hit myself on the head for forgetting about that. But then again, yesterday is something I don’t want to remember. “You took over the bar when I went to get changed.”

“Yep.” She walks past me and takes out a small bag from under the table. I become acutely aware that I am standing in the middle of the room, with my top in an awkward position on my chest. I remove it and change out of my gear. Primadonna is slower, and I don’t blame her. The underwear she has on seems to have cost a fortune. “So what’s your name?” she inquires as she takes off her gold heels.