Black Sheep (18 page)

Nicole

I FELL ASLEEP
in Tyson’s arms and slept better than I had in months. When I woke, the sun was blazing into my room, and Tyson was gone. Rolling into the pillow beside me, I breathed him in with a smile.

My body ached from the pleasure of the night before, and I grinned to myself. It had been amazing.

No.

It was better than amazing.

The wait had surely been worth it. The memories of his mouth on my body and the way he filled me would stay with me forever.

We’d opened a new door in our strange relationship, but this time, it was different. This time, it was a door we could never close, and I was glad. I never wanted anything between Tyson and me again.

I showered, letting my fingers linger in all the places he’d kissed the night before as I washed my hair and my body. Climbing from the shower, I dried off and dressed for the day.

By the time I made it downstairs, it was lunchtime. I hadn’t realized I’d slept for so long, but I guessed after all the tears and all the pleasure, I’d finally relaxed enough to get a few good hours of sleep. It was needed, that was for sure.

After eating something quick for lunch, I stepped outside to get the paper so I could search for jobs. It was Saturday, and after going all over town the day before, I decided to stay in and search the paper and online instead.

Sitting at the table and reading through the paper reminded me of my dad. The smell of the paper—the sound of it rustling as I turned the page—brought back memories of my parents, but instead of crying, I found myself smiling.

I missed them, but I knew they’d want me to keep pushing forward, and that was exactly what I planned to do.

An hour later, an advertisement for a waitress caught my attention. I’d never waitressed before, but obviously, I wasn’t going to find a job doing the one thing I loved the most … dancing.

I had to at least check it out. A job was needed as soon as possible, which meant I didn’t have time to be picky. Grabbing my phone from across the table, I dialed the number on the advertisement only to receive a recording letting callers know they were having interviews at six that evening.

Sure, it was last minute, but it wasn’t like I had a day planned full of fun. I was supposed to spend the day searching for a job. This had me going straight into the interview phase without having to apply.

I could possibly walk out of there this afternoon with a job if I played my cards right. The advertisement didn’t contain much information, except that they were only interviewing women. That seemed a little sexist to me, but I wasn’t going to let it keep me from going down there and trying.

I’d applied for a job teaching at Anna’s School of Dance, which was also the place I’d attended growing up. Anna knew me well and knew my mother well, but she’d told me that it might be a while until I heard something back. While waitressing wasn’t ideal, it was something, at least, until I heard something back from Anna.

I smiled to myself just thinking about doing the thing I loved the most. Sure, I wouldn’t actually be dancing on stage, but at least I could help another girl fulfill her dreams. It was the next best thing to fulfilling mine.

BRIAN ENDED UP
staying an extra night at his friend Josh’s house, and I was fine with it since I understood his need to get away from the house. What I hated was the fact that I’d be home alone that night.

I knew I could call Tyson over, but I figured it might be a good idea to give him a bit of space. He’d opened up to me—told me things he’d never told anyone else—and I knew him. He’d need the time to come to terms with that.

I’d think about the home alone problem later. Until then, I still had an interview to prepare for.

I changed into something comfortable, grabbed my purse and phone from the table, and left the house feeling more excited than I had in a while. With the piece of paper I’d written the address on, I drove to the location with high hopes.

Waitressing wasn’t a great job, but hopefully, it paid well enough. Paying bills was going to be difficult enough once my college fund ran out, but the house that had never seemed too large before was indeed large, which meant high electric bills and homeowner’s insurance. Things I’d never thought about before in my entire life.

When I got to the address, I was welcomed by a brick building that had been painted black and a flashing sign that read
Knockers
. It wasn’t often that I drove through downtown Charleston, but that was exactly where I found myself. The area was run-down—men walked the streets with beer bottles in brown paper bags, and women pushed their kids in strollers close to the heavy traffic.

The vacant buildings were crumbling and falling, but the occupied buildings didn’t look much better. The address I was going to didn’t look great, and being in a rough neighborhood wasn’t the best idea either, but I climbed from the car, locked the doors, and started toward the building anyway.

Charleston was an artsy place and the home of the Piccolo Spoleto Festival. My parents had taken me one year, and the dancers had enthralled me when I was younger. So as I walked to the red door that stuck out like a beacon against the black bricks, I replayed those happy memories through my mind to kill my nerves and make me smile.

The music could be heard outside—the thump of the bass shaking the door before I reached for the knob. Once I pulled the door open, dance music and a dark smoky entrance overwhelmed me.

“Welcome to Knockers. What can I do for you?” A voice sounded from my side.

I turned to find a plump, bald man sitting behind a desk with a smile. His eyes moved over my body from my knees to my shoulders before finally moving to my face.

“Are you here for the interview?”

I nodded, swallowing my nerves.

“Nice. I think you’ll fit in great here.” He motioned to another door. “Go through there and ask for Jim.”

I nodded again, before moving toward the next door.

Once I opened that door, I realized I was definitely in the wrong place. All I saw was a stage with tables surrounding it. Men and women sat at the tables, drinking and eating while watching as a single woman shook her naked body in the flashing lights that blazed down on her.

“Everybody give Candy a hand,” the DJ called out, making the room full of people clap and whistle.

I backed up, ready to flee and get back in my car, but before I could, another girl showed up behind me.

“Hey.” She smiled.

“Hey,” I responded.

“Here for the interview, too?” she asked.

I nodded, ready to make a run for it.

“Yeah, me too. Could you imagine getting this job? Waitressing at the hottest restaurant and club in Charleston and walking out of here on weekend nights with over a grand in your pocket?”

I could hardly believe my ears.

Over a grand in one night?

That was impossible.

“Seriously?” My voice cracked.

Before, I was ready to run out of there.

Why was I still there?

Why was I talking to this girl?

And why was I imagining how easy things would be if I could work two days a week—if I could make two grand on a Friday and Saturday night.

“Oh, yeah. My friend Michelle works here, and she makes bank. If the waitresses make that much in tips, imagine what the dancers make,” she said, motioning to the girl on the stage.

“Yeah. I can imagine,” I agreed.

Again, she smiled.

“Well, we’d better get in there.”

I nodded, thinking about how I should leave and get back in my car, but the weirdest thing happened. Instead of turning around, I followed her and took a seat with the few other girls who were interviewing.

I didn’t know what I was getting into. I didn’t even know if I wanted to work in a place where women took their clothes off for a living, but the fact was, I had bills to pay and a fourteen-year-old to take care of. I’d applied everywhere I could find and still hadn’t heard anything back. Plus, no one ever had to know.

I just needed to make sure this interview was for waitresses and not dancers. While I loved dancing, I’d never take my clothes off for a room full of people.

I traded seats with three girls, letting them go before me as I tried to work up the nerve to get up and go into the small room on the side where a man, who I assumed was Jim, was handling the interviews. But before long, I was the last girl sitting, and I had no choice.

My knees shook as I walked to the door and pulled it open. The DJ was talking in the background, welcoming the next girl to the stage. I’d already seen enough naked flesh from the five girls who’d taken the stage while I waited.

“Come on in, honey,” a burly man said from behind a large wooden desk.

Closing the door behind me, I sat in the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

“Hi,” I squeaked.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, and when I opened them, Jim was smiling back at me.

“Nicole,” I choked out.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he complimented.

“Thank … you,” I stuttered.

“First time in a strip club?” he asked.

I exhaled and nodded. “Yeah. It’s kind of overwhelming.”

He chuckled. “I bet. You look like you just left a classroom.”

“A classroom?” I asked, confused.

He laughed, his large belly shaking. “You look like a teacher, baby. The boys will love it.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the top of the desk. “You sure you wouldn’t rather get on the stage than serve the food?”

My eyes went wide, and I shook my head hard, again, making Jim laugh.

“Understood. Well,” he started, grabbing some papers at his side and becoming all business, “have you ever waitressed before?”

I swallowed, the beat of the music outside the room shaking in my chest. I felt nauseated and dirty just being there. I wasn’t sure if I could really go through with working at a strip club.

“No, sir.”

He chuckled again, his smile a friendly one. “Sir, huh?” His beady eyes moved over me as he took in my khaki-colored top and navy tights. “I’m not sure you belong in a place like this, sweetie. You sure you’re not a runaway or anything like that? Are you at least eighteen?”

“I’m not a runaway, and I’m eighteen. I just need a job,” I said honestly.

He nodded.

Leaning back in his chair, he let his eyes move over me once again, making me uncomfortable.

“Do you have a problem with me looking at you?” he asked, shocking me.

“Excuse me?”

“Because if you have a problem with me looking at you, then working here’s not for you,” he said. “Honey, we’re here to sell sex. That includes our waitresses, and while you’re not applying for a dancing job, you’ll still be in skimpy clothes and showing bits of skin. The men and women will look at you. They can look all they want; they just can’t touch.”

I stood at that, ready to walk out.

I couldn’t be a piece of meat walking around a room handing out food. It was degrading, and while I needed the money, I wasn’t sure I needed it that badly.

“Before you run off, you should know I pay well. And on top of pay, you’ll get a ton of tips. Our customers are very generous with our girls.”

I swallowed, debating on what to do.

“Also, I’ll only need you to work Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays.”

Closing my eyes, I bounced his words around in my head. Technically, with those hours, I could work a second job, as well.

He hadn’t said it, but he was basically offering me the job on the spot, and it wasn’t like I had to be naked. Also, they weren’t allowed to touch me. It was just a waitressing job. It wasn’t a big deal.

“I’ll take it,” I said, shocking even myself.

His smile grew, and he nodded. “Be here Thursday afternoon at five.”