“Don’t get pissy, honey. I’m just calling it as I see it,” Janet placates with her deep southern twang, as if that will take the sting away from her insult.
“Oh yeah? And what do you see?” I cross my arms over my chest, not really giving a rat’s ass about what she thinks one way or the other.
“A girl who isn’t going to get any tips looking like that,” she rebukes, her red acrylic nail drawing an invisible line up and down my short frame to make her point. “I thought you were a smart college girl. I guess you’re just as stupid as the rest of us,” she taunts, wiggling her brows and prancing off to the customers that ordered the whiskey.
Even though my resting bitch face is permanently stitched on, I know the skank is right—Big Jim’s isn’t classy. There’s no dress code for staff, but the scruffy-looking clientele will pay a little extra if they see some cleavage or leg. And tonight, I’m definitely not giving them their money’s worth with an old pair of skinny, black jeans and a raggedy ‘The Smiths’ T-shirt that should have been thrown out ages ago due to its overuse. The clothes covering all my prized treasures from these horndogs’ eyes won’t win me any brownie points or pay Mom’s grocery bill this week.
Damn it, I must be slipping.
I should have reconsidered my clothing choices before I left for class this morning, but I was planning to drop by the dorm before clocking in. Unfortunately, I ran late from my study session at school this afternoon, and before I knew it, it was time for my shift at this dump, so I didn’t have time to go back to my room and slut it up.
The worst part is that I know I’m bound to drop the ball again. I get so razor-sharp focused on schoolwork that everything else just ends up being white noise. I forget there is a real world that I still need to deal with outside Richfield’s walls, and dressing it up for these creeps is part of my everyday life. Since today I failed miserably to remember my norm, my tips are going to suck ass.
I just have to think of another way to make up for it. I could flirt with these assholes to get some extra money in, but giving them their daily dose of eye-candy is as far as I’m willing to go for a bit of cash. Flirting leads men to have expectations, and men with expectations usually get handsy, which then leads me to either punching their lights out or kneeing them in the junk. And then all my tips go out the window, along with my job. As much as I wish I could kick this sleazy shithole to the curb, I need the money. No way around that.
I look over at Janet working the crowd, sitting on laps and giggling like a schoolgirl, throwing me a wink to rub it in my face how she’s going to make bank tonight. I might not like the bitch much, but I do envy her hustle. She’s thirty if she’s a day, and still wearing fuck-me short skirts and tops loose enough for the men here to get a peek at her goods.
It’s a smart move on her part because, let’s face it, men are stupid. The minute they open their wallet to pay her, they’re more than happy to shell out another five bucks just so they can have a few more seconds staring at her rack. And Janet is all too happy to relieve them of their money and let them have their fill. Of course, for Janet to feed her habit, working these suckers who only came in for a beer or two is just pocket change. The real big spenders get to take a trip with her out back, where she shows how accommodating she can be for an Andrew Jackson or a Grant.
No Benjamins here, I’m afraid. This is Southside, where even a ten-dollar bill is a hard commodity to come by.
“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath, aggravated with myself for being so careless.
I have to be more mindful of having my head in the game. My scholarship may pay for my tuition and board, but if I want to eat and keep the lights on at my mother’s, this job needs to pay me accordingly. And the measly eight dollars an hour that Big Jim pays me doesn’t cut it.
I only have one more year to muddle through this anyway, and then I’m out of here. Next summer I’ll be at my internship, and hopefully, they’ll keep me on as a paid aid while I get my law degree. This is the last year I’ll have to wash puke off the floor, cum off tabletops, or be some asshole’s pin-up girl for him to spank off to the minute he gets home. I’ve worked too hard to let it all fall apart in my last year. They want tits and ass, then that’s what they’ll get.
While making an inventory of all the slutty clothes I have, someone clears their throat behind me, interrupting my reverie. I plaster on a fake, sultry smile and get ready to put on my charm. Even looking like a day-old mess, I need to see if I can still work my magic and shift a few bills out of this shmuck’s pocket into my own.
Of course, when I turn around, the man sitting at the stool is the last one I ever thought would show his pretty face in here again.
“You lost, quarterback?” I ask with my hands on my hips, looking at the guy who gave the start of my senior year an unexpected twist.
“It’s rude not to text someone back after hanging out, you know,” he reprimands, without so much of a hello. Not that I care since the small pout he’s trying damn hard to hide is all the reaction I need, not to mention it’s sexy as fuck.
“Is it?” I ask, leaning against the counter, pushing the twins in his face just to get a rise out of him. Sure, Mary Kate and Ashley are all covered up, but I know my perky girls get him riled up anyway. “So, you’re telling me that you call back all the girls you hook up with?”
He looks down at his feet with guilt, and I know I got him pegged.
“Yeah, quarterback. I didn’t think so. Now, how about we do this little bit again, shall we? I’m sure your momma gave you more manners than that.”
“Hi, Stone,” he replies sheepishly, giving me the greeting I deserve while looking way too out of his comfort zone.
I bite down the chuckle that wants to leave me because, honestly, it’s too damn funny watching Finn try to fit in when he is miles away from his natural habitat. Why he’s even here is mind-boggling, but it will surely be entertaining to watch him squirm and cringe at being in my neck of the woods.
“Hi, yourself, pretty boy. I have to admit, I didn’t think I’d see you in here again. Has the Northside become too boring for you? Is it not giving you enough action, and now you have to drive here to get it?” I tease, leaning my hip on the counter.
“I just came to see you. That’s all,” he mumbles, still looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but here.
“Me? You came to see me?”
“You say it like it’s unfathomable or something. Yeah, I’m here to see you. Haven’t I stalked your ass enough around school for you to know I like looking at you?” he grumbles, and although the words coming from his mouth seem as if he resents the fact that he’s here, the reason behind it is kind of sweet. I guess as sweet as a guy like Finn can be.
“Yeah, I like looking at you, too. Still, I wouldn’t drive miles out of the fancy part of town to visit this hellhole to do it.”
“You didn’t answer your phone, and things got a little bit hectic back at school today, so this was the only way I could catch up with you.”