Episode 3
1376 Words
I started to take a step back and away from the woman, but I soon stopped as she watched me with a raised brow.
“So?” she asked.
“Is there any other way?” I turned towards the bar situated in a corner of the room and pointed at it. “There. I could be a bartender. How about that?”
“I wish you could, honey, but we already have a two bartenders. Besides, you are one beautiful young lady.” She walked towards me and cupped my right cheek with her hand. “My name is Amanda, by the way. What’s yours?”
“Seraphine,” I answered.
“Seraphine. What a perfect name for this job. It sounds like some addictive drug. You could make a brand out of your name if you agree to do this. You won’t be forced to do what you don’t want to do, by the way,” she informed me. “When do you have time to come in?”
She was speaking to me as if I had agreed to take up the job, and I found it strange that she was so confident about it.
“I don’t… If I take the job, I won’t come in at night. I already have a job at a waitress. Would there be anything for me to do here during the day?” I looked around skeptically. It felt weird being in there, like there were a pair of eyes watching me standing there and negotiating, just sitting and judging me for even trying to consider this.
“You don’t even have to come at night. We have customers every single time. There’s one thing I have to tell you, though; what you’ll make here will be more than what you’re being paid as a waitress, trust me. You can always consider quitting and letting me run your schedule. The longer you stay here, the higher your pay, especially when you get more patrons.”
Her words were too smooth, getting into my head and intoxicating me so much that I had no idea what would happen if I stayed for over five more minutes – I could be completely bought and go ahead to accept the offer she was stating.
“You know what, why don’t you just give me your number? I’ll let you know if I want to do this or not,” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket and handing it to her to put her number in.
She took my phone without hesitation, even going as far as adding the number as a contact herself.
“By the way, Seraphine,” she said, “I’ve been a part of this job for the longest time. I can tell who’s desperate for money, and I know you are. If anything, you can make a thousand dollars or more in one shift.”
She let me go with a kiss on the cheek which lingered until I got back home to find my mother in the kitchen, eating the toast I had made since that morning.
“Any luck?” she asked, unable to look me in the eyes.
I considered telling her about my encounter with Amanda and what she had offered, but it was only going to lead to an argument which would make her convince me to reject it. I had no intention of rejecting Amanda’s offer and I knew it.
“Not much.” I shrugged. “All of the restaurants have their waitresses, and all the bars have their bartenders. I don’t think the restaurant I work at would want to give me another shift. The manager already believes I’m not doing a good job.”
“We’ll figure out a way.” She rubbed my arm, giving me a smile of reassurance.
“Do you have any idea where Dad might be?” I asked, and she shook her head with a frown.
“Not one bit. I was so angry at him when he left that I swore never to contact him or have anything to do with him, and now I really wish I hadn’t. Maybe if I kept calling him, I would know where he is right now, and we wouldn’t be going through this.”
“I lied about not getting a job. There’s this bar a fair distance away. They want me to be a bartender,” I made up for my lie by lying even more.
Going back home had given me more reason to take up the job offer Amanda had given to me, if I could even call it that.
I saw my mom’s face brighten as she playfully smacked me across the arm, and that was enough for me to not feel guilty about my decision, even if it entailed lying to her.
“Why would you lie about something like that?” she questioned, rolling her eyes. “I told my managers that I wouldn’t be going in for work tomorrow. I still need some time to recover from what those men did to us and the news about your father. When will you start working at the bar?”
I looked down at my phone and finally locked in on my decision.
“Tomorrow.”
~
“What are you wearing?” Amanda scrunched her nose as she saw me walk into the brothel the next day, my first day at work.
“Uh, I didn’t have anything very exotic. I also couldn’t come in something revealing. My mom—”
“I don’t want to hear it. Your shift should have started five minutes ago. Let’s get you in something better.” She took my hand and led me to a backroom, which she tagged as a changing room.
She put me in a top that was practically non-existent and a skirt which smelled like cotton candy and a familiar perfume I had at home.
“Perfect. You have a first customer. It’s a man in his sixties, but you don’t need to worry. He doesn’t ask for much. You can get up to a thousand just for massaging him right. He comes here to get his steam off,” she lectured me, pulling a red lipstick out of the pocket of her skirt and swiping it over my lips, instructing me to pop my lips. “He’s a VIP. Show him what you can do.”
Before I could make any more enquiries, she opened the door to the VIP room and pushed me inside, closing the door.
It was morning, but the room inside was dimly lit with lights that changed from a purple color to a sickening blue, and to red.
“Hi…hi,” I stuttered, standing at the door as a man sat on the couch, unmoving.
I saw him reach for something on the table in front of him, and the lights finally turned bright so that I could see his face properly.
My heart sank. Amanda had told me that my client would be in his sixties, but this man in front of me looked thirty at best. I had prepared to meet a middle-aged man, but this…
“Are you new? Amanda didn’t tell me there would be a new person,” he said, scanning me.
“She made a mistake. I’ll go…I’ll go tell her that—”
“No, it’s fine,” he stopped me before I turned around to open the door. “I didn’t come for s****l favors anyway. Come on.”
I took slow, unsure steps towards the man. I suddenly felt self-conscious, tugging my skirt down and praying for it to grow a few more inches.
He looked to be amused at my behavior.
“It’s obvious how nervous you are,” he observed, patting the spot beside him for me to sit.
“What is your name?” he inquired.
“Seraphine.”
“I’m Jax. Jax Smith.” Almost as soon as he said his name, it clicked in my head who this man was, and my eyes widened.
Jax Smith was the CEO of the bank affiliate
company that my mother had taken a loan from.
- Writer
