"Argh, fuck! Where did it go?" Victoria exclaimed as she rummaged through her clutter of disorganized make-up products on her wooden dresser.
"Gottcha," she said as she mercilessly grasped the red Mac matted lipstick labelled, "Russian Red" from among the pile of used foundation, concealer, eyeliner and other tired makeup items off her bureau.
Hastily but steadily applying the lipstick to her lips, giving herself a look over in the dresser mirror, she quickly ran her hands over her straight brunette lace-front wig. Retouched her edges with a mangled tootbrush and put in her medium gold hoop earrings, shrugged on a black leather jacket over her plain white t-shirt that stood out against her olive toned skin and hastily picked off the lint attached to her blue skinny jeans.
And hurried to catch the elevator in her twelve story apartment building in South East end Chicago.
Scrambling out into the apartment lobby and onto the sidewalk, Victoria desperately flagged down a taxi and hopped in.
"Drop me off at the Clutch on North Avenue," she said.
Checking her watch, she realised she would be fifteen minutes late for her shift at the Clutch. One of the most popular strip clubs in all of Chicago. With its reputation of being a go-to spot for rappers and celebrities alike. The Clutch made its name by being the number one spot for raging parties with exclusive A-list guests and access to drugs and private dance sessions for high paying guests.
Throwing her head back, she groaned in frustration. Knowing that as soon as she walked in, Mave would ruthlessly berate her for arriving late. Since growing up with strict parents, would make Mave a stickler for punctuality, despite their disapproval of her being a manager of a strip club.
Her homegrown habits would make her a well structured, disciplined and successful manager of the Clutch. And even more so, a huge pain in the ass for poor Victoria.
It was Friday, and around the hour of 10 p.m. the club would be packed at that time.
With her day shift as a cook, at the city's second best diner, working from five to six. On a bustling Friday with orders coming in endlessly. Then traveling home in hectic traffic, needless to say, those two hours of sleep would clearly not be enough to always make it to her other job on time. So understandably one can see how she would have overslept a bit pass her shift.
"Now only if Mave would see it that way too," Victoria thought.
Turning into the street the club was on, the base from the music blasting inside the establishment was loud enough to cause the windows of the cab to vibrate.
"It's a miracle this place hasn't been sued over a noise complaint yet," the taxi driver commented looking at Victoria through the rear view mirror.
"A miracle indeed, thanks," she chuckled as she paid the cab fare and stepped out the car.
Jogging up the walk way to the entrance of the club, she abruptly turned right and made her way to the side of the building. Walking a short distance in the alley she stopped and knocked on the side entrance iron door. Waiting impatiently, Guss, the security guard, pulled open the door to see a very annoyed Victoria.
"You're late," he said,
"I know," Victoria huffed with and eye roll.
"Lemme in." Making her way past the six foot three, burley mound of muscle. She hurried inside and scurried down the corridor making her way to the stripper's dressing room in the back.
The music of the club was muffled and not as loud in the back corridor of the building, but the base of it bounced off the walls and made its way into her body rattling her bones. In a somewhat exhilarating yet familiar and comfortable way. Reaching the door of the dressing room she took a deep breath and entered.
Stepping into the room, Victoria was met with the usual chaotic hustling and bustling of the club's main entertainment, the strippers. Or as they like to refer to themselves, exotic dancers. The girls were all getting ready for their routines, feathers, beads and wigs were being tossed about like a tornado passing through. Victoria attempted to make her way through the chaos without literally stepping on anyone's toe. Squeezing between the busy bodies, she bumped into Maxine,
"Vic! Oh my gosh thank goodness you're here, I sent Rex to get me a sangria an hour ago and he's been gone forever. Do you think you could maybe go grab me one? I gotta go onstage in 20." She stated.
Phoenix, another one of the dancers chimed in,
"Max you should've realized by know that Rex couldn't give two rats ass about what you wanted to drink. And Vic doesn't serve us, you'll just have to wait till after the routine."
An annoyed Maxine wined,
"It's hot as Rex's ballz inside here already, and lord knows he's not gonna fix the AC anytime soon. The least a girl could get is a drink around here."
Jabbing her eyeliner pencil towards Victoria she questioned,
"What the fuck is she even in here for then, if she's a waitress who isn't gonna wait on us?"
Putting away her belongings in the storage locker at the end of the room. Victoria looked over to Maxine at the vanity near by and replied,
"Max if anyone would know the temperature of Rex's balls, it would most definitely be you. And FYI, I'm paid to wait on paying customers, not glitter crotch stage prancers like yourself."
A few girls in earshot of the comeback snickered.
