Walking on Fire

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Julie Fescue

   The Foul smell of cheap perfume filled my nostrils in ample amounts. I was beginning to feel a bit nauseated and dizzy.

Half tripping over someone’s high heels, I walked over to sit at my vanity table.  

“Okay girls! Let’s have a good day today! There are rich customers out there tonight!” Mrs. Valentine said, addressing us all, and leading the girls out the door.

On their way out, some of the girls gave me nasty scowls. I suppose it was because I was the “fresh meat” and it was my first day on the job. Some of the Weekly customer had already heard about there being a new girl and wanted me to serve their table.

I’m just a waitress at this bar, but that’s all it takes for me to feel guilty about working where I work. I just graduated high school this past school year, and my grandparents forced me out of the house to live on my own. They think it builds character.

“Hey Julie, are you okay? You’re looking a little paler then usual there …” My roommate, Fleur, asked while walking over to me in her stilettoes and waitress costume. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look a bit gutted.”

“I guess I’m just a little nervous. I mean it is my first day, how else do you expect me to feel?” I said while getting up and checking over my uniform, which was a bit skimpy for my likings. “On top of that, I hate this uniform! Look how short it is!”

“Oh come on! Stop being so modest! Besides, your arse looks fine! Now come on!” She said loudly while letting her English accent come out. She usually tries to mask it with her fake American accent which she had picked up from old western movies. I always joke around, telling her it sounds terrible , but she obvious doesn't care and prefers to keep up the charade.

Fleur De Lumières and I actually different in many ways. People might find it a bit surprising that we are best friends.

Are psychical differences are obvious, and not to be ignored. While she has long blonde ringlets, that reach her mid-back; I have edgy, layered, brown hair that goes a bit past my shoulders. Her eye color is somewhat difficult to explain. The first ring around her pupil is a reddish brown and the rest appears to be hazel, whereas mine are a plain russet color. She stands a little taller than me, but not enough to pinpoint it out. Other than notable differences, her personality would strike people as fancy and materialistic, but upon looking at me, people would judge that I'm way too laid-back and probably think I’m a stoner. In reality, Fleur is more bubbly and outgoing, not prim and prude. People's first impression on me should be basically accurate, but I don't do marijuana; I've never even gotten drunk before!

As we walked out of the dressing room, I felt even more self-conscious about myself. I felt that all eyes were on me, but in reality the customers were all watching the show that was just beginning on the stage.

“Look there’s a table right there, waiting to be attended.” She said pointing over to a table with two men holding their already bulging beer bellies, “watch how I do it.” She smirked.  

She walked over in a frivolous (or so I thought) manner. I saw her put on a playful smile as she walked over to where those men were.

When she stopped at their table, their mouths gapped open as if they were going to yawn, but I saw what they were really looking at.

I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but whatever was coming out of her mouth seemed to really please the two men. She jotted down on a notepad what I assumed was their order, and came back over to where I was standing with a wide grin.