Out of the World

2. Little money and a big dream

Nina

A sharp sigh left me. I had a long night ahead of me. As I already knew, the club was overcrowded.

First, I went to change in the locker room. I must be fast given I was already late. But I couldn’t work wearing my old jeans and loose pullover; I’d got to wear the uniform, which consists of two annoyingly small pieces of cloth: a tank-top a bit longer than a bra and a mini skirt. I gazed at myself in the mirror and sighed, there were dark shadows under my eyes, and I looked like a wreck.

As fast as possible, I put some concealer under my eyes and some lip gloss on my pale lips to avoid getting scolded by my manager. She always says that her girls have to look like ‘someone the clients would like to know better.’

I didn’t think anyone would want to ‘know me better’ given the way I looked now. Thank goodness for this; it meant less trouble.

In no time, I entered the dim-lighted salon. The cringe-worthy music invaded my ears, loud and tacky. My eyes went to the red-lighted stage where a few girls were already dancing. They were beautiful, tall and well… very naked! To be fair, no one would expect otherwise from this club. A blond one slid down a pole and danced in the air. Dang! I think I saw her womb. 

Shaking my head, I rushed to do my work. I started serving a table, in which a large group of drunk guys said some unpleasant things and tried to flirt. Bachelor party, for sure! Congrats, you are getting married, so it means that you and your friends can flirt with everyone. Making a huge effort, I held back my frown and took the orders. 

Breathe in and out, Nina! Doing it, I inhaled a lungful of smoke! Great, one of the Bachelor dudes decided that exhaling on my face was a good idea. 

“Babe, do you want to join the after-party?” one of them asked and I pretended not to hear it, rushing to the bar to get them their drinks. 

A sigh left my nostrils as I reached a kind of safe place: the inner side of the bar counter. This flirting thing was the worst! This wasn’t my job description! Why didn’t these dudes look at the girls who were actually there to be seen by them instead of me, a simple and plain waitress? 

But even though the other waitresses and I were only here serving tables, we had to wear these ridiculously tiny uniforms. Working here could be described in one word: uncomfortable. But they pay better than the bar next door and differently than the other less-strip-club place, they hired me. Besides that, the manager was nice enough to let me take the night off when I got exams.

Looking at my old watch, I sighed. Still three hours to go and the customers were getting drunker and handsy by the minute. After finishing my shift here, I would go back home to catch some sleep before I attend university in the morning. At least I loved my major, Fine Arts, with a minor in History of Art. I could paint and learn about the great geniuses that covered the world with beauty and meaning.

It wasn’t like I had a promising career as a painter anyway. It’s a hard and very closed market for someone that was a nobody and didn’t have an influential circle. But I loved it too much to do anything else.

At least after I finish my major, I would have a great chance to work at an art gallery. Then I could say goodbye to my double shifts as a barista in a coffee shop and as a waitress in this cheap striptease club.

Rent in this city was not cheap, not even when you shared a tiny apartment with your flatmate. The place was so small that we were almost roommates.

“Are you dreaming or daydreaming? You look quite tired. But the guest at table five is waiting,” Luiza, a fellow waitress asked me, snapping me from my little reverie. 

“On my way. Thanks for letting me know.” I smiled at her.

My eyes met Luiza’s tired face. I guess I looked even worse. She smiled back at me and rushed to serve a table. I really liked her, she was sweet and I could relate to her much more than to most of the other people that I knew. Like me, she was an orphan, never adopted, and grew up between the foster system and institutions. The only difference was that she grew up here in the main city while I came here from a small town with few savings and a big dream.

I never thought I would become an immediate success. I was never naïve, nor a dreamer. You see, when you hardly have time to sleep, you don’t dream that often. I was a realist, nothing amazing and magical would happen in my life, and that was okay. But I still had my big dream: work with my art and in parallel use the money from my future work in the gallery to pay my bills. I didn’t only hope to succeed and achieve my goal, but I worked my a.ss off every day for it.

Even my big dream was realistic. Maybe I shouldn’t even call it a dream, it was more like everything I wanted and worked for.

“What would you like to have, Sir?” I asked the customer.

“Why did you take so long? The service in this shithole is growing worse by the day! Bring me vodka, girl,” he barked. At least he didn’t flirt.

I served that table and a few more before my manager, Gabrielle, called me. She had an impatient smile on her face. Her narrowed green eyes were charged with make-up, lots of mascara. She was wearing a beautiful black dress that showed her curves without showing her skin. Good for her that she didn’t need to wear our uniform. 

“Nina, come here.” I walked towards her, holding back a sigh.

“You were late, and a gentleman complained about you. He said you were too slow and incompetent. We can’t have that, can we?” she asked, raising a brow at me.

I sighed. “No, we can’t. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I hope not; otherwise, we would have to let you go. There are many girls that would love to have your job. Would even fight for it. It’s a great opportunity to make extra money after the shift is over,” she said.

“I’ll do my best, Gabrielle.”

“Good. Don’t waste any more time. Chop, chop! The gentleman at table five is calling. And more cleavage.” She shook her head as she opened the first button on my top. 

She did things like that quite often. The first time I really didn’t like it, such an invasion of my personal space. But I grew used to it, it was how it worked here in the club.

“Oh, and smile, Nina. No one comes to clubs to look at sad women, for that they have their wives at home!” Gabrielle told me, covering her frown with a smile. 

Rushing, I went to table five with my small notebook in hand. 

“Didn’t you hear me calling?” The customer frowned, narrowing his eyes at me. 

“I am sorry, Sir. Can I take your order?” I forced out a smile. 

“More vodka, with more ice this time!” 

“Sure, Sir!” Another fake smile successfully flashed. Dang! I was a very bad actress and I tended to wear my emotions on my face, but at least Gabrielle wouldn’t complain, right?

When I turned around to get Mr. D!ckhead his vodka, he slapped my b.utt. Gosh, how I wanted to slap his face! He couldn’t treat people like this, not me, not the dancers, not anyone! I cringed hard, no fake smile would do. This kind of man disgusts me.

But I couldn’t do anything about it. I really needed this job and Gabrielle already had an eye on me, which she reminded me again, with an emphatic gaze as she motioned for me to rush. 

We were not on the best terms, not since she tried to convince me to ‘get cozy with the clients to get some extra money after work’— if you know what I mean. She was after the 20% commission she gets when the girls get their ‘extra money’. I’ve always said no.

I was desperate, but not that desperate. I would do lots of things to pay my rent and university fees, but certainly not everything.

After my long and exhausting shift, I changed into my comfy clothes and walked towards the door. 

“Heading home?” Luiza asked me, attracting my attention.

“Yes, I have class in the morning and then a shift at the café,” I gave her a tired smile. 

“Oh, Nina. I don’t know how you have the energy to study. Between here and my other job, I am a zombie. At least when I get home, I will cuddle with my babe.” Luiza chuckled. 

As soon as we left the club and stepped into the empty street, we came across Soggy Bread. That was what we called this annoying man.

No, not him, this again! Soggy Bread was one of our ‘habitual guests’ and was usually waiting for us to leave the club to try flirting with us, aka harassing us. He was hugging a bottle of vodka, and caressing his belly bump, a smile on his face. Like any other day, he reeked of cheap whiskey and cigarettes. 

“Hey, Dolls, wait!” he whistled, gawking at us. What the hell? We weren’t dogs! 

“Sir, please. We have already finished our shift. The place is closed,” Luiza answered patiently.

I tried, especially with those regular guests. I had no option, but I was not as patient as her. Not in the least.

“I don’t wanna drink, I wanna some company, Dolly!” he replied, grinning at her with a disgusting smile.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but we are not interested,” she replied.

“Talk about yourself, s.lut, not about the other one… how about you, brunette? Would you like to make an extra fifty euros? I won’t tell your p.imp and you can have it all,” he said with a grimace as he wrapped his hand around my arm. Breathing deeply, I tried my best not to slap him. Whoosah, I told myself.

It wasn’t the first time it had happened; it wasn’t even the first time it happened this week. Same drunk guy, same place, same time, a recurrent nightmare. But today he seemed even drunker than normal and also more aggressive.

“Sir, please!” Luiza intervened.

“I already told you to shut up, s.lut!” he yelled. 

“Don’t you touch me! Let me go! Don’t talk to her like this, you swine!” I burst out, pulling my arm out of his grasp. Taking Luiza’s hand, I ran away, tugging her with me. Once we were far enough away, we stopped our running, and laughter broke through our deep pantings. I was washed over with something between an adrenaline rush and relief.

This drunk man didn’t scare me. I didn’t get scared because of them anymore, the monsters that lurked in the night. They just disgusted me to such a level that I would think about giving up. Except that giving up on this job meant giving up on my realistic dream, and that I won’t ever do.

It wasn’t even an option.

“OMG, Nina! I hope Gabrielle doesn't get mad!” Luiza muttered, her eyes wide open. 

“Luiza, we don’t have to entertain those fvckers after our working time!” 

Yet, I sighed. She was right. There was a possibility Gabrielle would get to know about it and get very angry. 

An exhausted exhale escaped my lips, I just wanted to crash on my bed and forget everything. Just remember the dream guy.