Arya
I was hungry and tired by the time I got to St. Roses, but I was determined to find a job before I got back to Horseshoe Ranch. I wanted to be able to make a way for myself. I didn’t want to be dependent on the Hamiltons for anything. As much as I loved being with them and as much as I appreciated everything they’d done for me, I didn’t want to take advantage of them.
And now that Chet and I had been intimate, I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.
I parked and looked down the street. It definitely was a lot busier here in St. Roses. It didn’t have the quaint, tranquil feel of Horseshoe Valley, but Horseshoe Valley didn’t have people. St. Roses definitely did. I watched three middle-aged guys head inside a building, laughing. The sign above the door said St. Roses Exclusive Club.
“A bar,” I thought to myself. Well, I’d gotten a job at a bar once before, maybe I’d be able to get one now. I reapplied my lipstick and headed inside. It was crowded, which I thought was a good sign.
I headed over to the side and stopped next to the countertop. “Hi,” I said to the bartender.
The bartender was missing a front tooth. He nodded. “What can I get you to drink?”
“Um, I was actually wondering if you were hiring.”
He looked me up and down. “Saw the ad in the paper?”
“No, but I heard that—”
“Hold on,” he cut me off. “Hey, Jimmy!” he shouted towards the back.
“Yeah?” a deep voice shouted back.
“There’s a girl come about the ad.”
“She good looking?” the voice shouted back, and I blushed.
He glanced at me. “Yeah, pretty fine.”
“Okay. I’m coming,” Jimmy responded.
“You stand right there,” the bartender told me. “He’ll be out to interview you.”
“Thank you,”
I waited for the guy, Jimmy, to come out, and I tried not to shudder when I saw him. He was about six foot four and three hundred pounds with a long gray beard. He wore dark sunglasses and a black leather jacket on top of a white t-shirt and faded blue jeans.
“You here about the job?”
I gave him my best smile. “Yeah, I am.”
“You ever done this kind of work before?”
“No, I don’t have much experience. But I’m a fast learner.”
“Okay. And you like music?”
“Sure,” I said nodding.
“You can dance?”
“Um, I’m no Gene Kelly, but I can hold my own.”
“Okay. You want to come to the back with me?
“Um. To the back?” I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you mean to fill out paperwork?”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “And you know, for the interview portion.”
“Okay, sure.” I looked around the bar to see if anyone was paying attention to our conversation, but no one was looking at us.
“This way,” he said, and I followed him down a dark corridor to a small room. He took a seat on a leather chair and patted the seat next to it. “You can sit next to me.”
“Um. Okay. Thanks.” I looked around the dingy room. It smelled of stale beer and peanuts. “Do you have the forms I need to fill out?”
“The forms?” He shook his head. “I figured we’d do a little bit of an audition.”
“An audition?” I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Yeah. Make sure that you’re the right woman for the job.”
“Okay.”
“You could start tonight?”
“I could.” I nodded eagerly. “What’s the pay, by the way?”
“The pay? Tips.”
“Tips plus minimum wage?”
“No, just tips.”
“Okay.” I guess I’d see how much I’d make in tips. “How much do the bartenders usually make?”
“The bartenders?” He looked at me. “The bartenders make about $50 a night, I’d say. You’ll almost certainly make more with your job.”
“Oh, okay.” Perhaps he meant because I was a woman?
He got up and pressed a button. Music blasted through the speakers.
“This here is one of my favorites,” he said, as heavy metal poured into the room.
“Okay,” I said, trying not to wince. The music was way too loud.
“You think you could dance to this?”
“Um, not really.” I shook my head.
He frowned slightly. “I guess this would be a hard one.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So, what sort of music do you like?”
“I mean, I have an eclectic taste in music, you know. I was listening to Shania Twain and Carrie Underwood on the way here.”
“Carry Underwood? That blonde chick?”
“Yeah.”
“I prefer me Dolly Parton.”
“Um. Okay. I like Dolly Parton, too. She seems really lovely. I was watching this documentary and—”
“Lady, I’m not hiring you to hear about documentaries you watch. I’m hiring you to—” He paused as his phone started ringing. He held up his hand. “This is Jimmy. What’s up? Hey there, Bird. What you doing? Um. Yeah, I got time.” He looked at me for a few seconds. “Hold on. So, you’ll be back here around nine and you’ll start tonight. Okay?”
“So I don’t need to show you how I make cocktails or audition for the—”
“It’s fine. Go. I’ll see you at nine. Just make sure you wear the right clothes.”
“Okay. Thanks so much. You won’t regret…” My voice trailed off as I realized he was no longer listening to me. I left the room excited. I stopped by the bar so that I could look at what the other bartenders were wearing. They all seemed to be pretty casually dressed in jeans and t-shirts. I had plenty of jeans and t-shirts. This was going to be amazing.
“I’ll see you later, tonight,” I called out to my friend at the front.
“Oh, so you took the job?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m really excited.”
“Really? I never heard that one before.”
“Oh?” I looked at him in confusion.
“The last girl lasted about two nights.”
“Oh no. Why is that?” I asked, wondering if I underestimated how hard the job was going to be.
“I don’t know. She got like $500.”
“She made $500 in nights?”
“No, she made $500 in one night,” he said grinning.
“Wow. No way!”
“Yeah. She sold her panties, though for $300.”
“Um … okay.” I didn’t know what to make of that. “Well, I better get home now. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay. See ya.”
I headed out of the bar, slightly deflated but still happy. I mean, I wasn’t going to sell my panties, not even for $300. But that meant she still made $200 in one night. That was amazing. I could make a $1000 a week if I worked five nights a week. That would be $4,000 a month. I could definitely get my own apartment and a babysitter for Eloise then. Maybe everything was going to be okay. Maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to make something of myself.
Granted, I didn’t want to work here forever, but maybe in six months or so, I’d be able to save up some money. If I got a loan and a part-time job, I could think about going to school.
And then maybe I’d be able to stop thinking about Chet, the confirmed bachelor, and how badly I wished he wanted a real relationship with me.