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One
TESSA
I turn on the faucet, whispering a prayer under my breath. But I can’t be that lucky. A single, fat drop of water plunks down the sink. My fingers feel the bathroom wall for the light switch, with more pleas falling down my tongue. When the light-bulb remains unlit, I let out a string of curses. Fuck my fucking life!
Fighting to hold back the hot tears burning the backs of my eyes, I shuffle through our tiny apartment towards the kitchen. I don’t even bother with the step stool, just haphazardly climb on top of the cracked wooden counter, and reach at the very back of the highest cupboard. My heart beats a mile a minute as I grapple around. An enormous sigh of relief escapes my lungs when my fingers meet the cold metal of the old flour tin I’ve been using to hide money. I pull it down precipitately, not even caring about the mess of white powder that spills all over when the tin falls open on the counter. But instead of tightly rolled bills, my hands meet nothing but flour. I sift through it, over and over, fat, angry tears rolling down my cheeks. Sobs of rage and hopelessness clogging my throat. Why, God, why?!
Furiously wiping at my face with the backs of my hands, I hop off the kitchen counter, padding on the cheap, uneven linoleum, toward their bedroom. I don’t even bother begging The Universe for a miracle. We’re already fucked, anyway. I kick my parents’ door open, and it’s no surprise to find the room empty. Bed unmade, dirty clothes thrown all over, ashtrays full, empty cans and food containers. A veritable pigsty, and… deserted. Our junkie, fucking loser parents must have snuck out in the middle of the night. Just as usual. And with the wad of cash I saved to keep the lights and water on, and a roof over our heads. Fuck me!
“Told you not to keep money in the house.”
My baby sister, Lena, startles me. I turn around and find her standing in the bedroom doorway, arms crossed, face scrunched up, dressed in one of our ensembles of raggedy t-shirts and shorts. She’s only eighteen, but the hard look on her face makes her appear decades older.
“Not now, Lenny. Water’s cut off, there’s no power, and…”
Before I can finish my sentence, we hear loud banging on the door. Oh shit…
“Tessa! Theresa! Open this fucking door!”
Lena shakes her head. Her air of complete indifference almost scares me sometimes.
I take in a deep inhale, square my shoulders, and open the door. Our landlord, Bruce, fills the doorway. He stands there with a fist still raised, apparently about to knock the wooden panel down. Three-hundred pounds of big-bellied, angry, mean, cold tobacco and rancid beer smelling bully.
“Bruce.” I nod at him.
“Don’t fucking ‘Bruce’ me! When are you fucking cockroaches giving me my money?”
I keep my expression steely.
“I just need a couple of weeks to-”
“Fucking weeks?! Are you fucking insane? You assholes are two months behind! What do you think? This is the fucking Salvation Army?! You got one fucking week, girl! Not one more day! You pay or you get the fuck out! You fucking hear me, cunt?”
All I hear is one week. A respite. Time to work out something…
* * *
“Sam?”
“What’s up, sweetie?” my night-school bestie replies in her habitual upbeat tone.
I take a deep breath, relieved that she picked up. I’ve known Sameera Lee for a couple of years now. We attend the same MBA post-grad adult program. She’s a great friend, and a fierce and successful businesswoman who runs the local franchise of an exclusive gentlemen’s club, Club Curve. A place where the entertainment is provided by big, beautiful women like me. Sam has been offering me a spot at Club Curve for as long as we’ve known each other. But I never agreed to it. The idea didn’t feel right. Like, who would pay to see plain ole me in skimpy clothes? Sam thinks I’d be a success, though. And with the shit my parents just pulled, we need money. Like yesterday!
“You still want me at the club?” I ask in a hopeful voice.
“Yes!” she squeals, almost piercing my eardrums, and bringing a smile on my face for the first time in forever. “When can you come?”
“As soon as possible?”
* * *
And that, my friends, is how I find myself on the lavish floor of Club Curve, dressed in a fabulous metallic dark pink mini-dress. I look outrageously sexy. The form-hugging fabric embraces my curves and emboldens me. The make-up one of Sameera’s girls applied on me is a perfect combination of sultry and fresh-faced. I’ve never felt more beautiful. It’s insane what wonderfully fitting clothes and expert make-up can do for a girl’s ego.
“You got this,” Sam reassures me. “I promise they don’t bite. And don’t hesitate to put any of these entitled jocks in their place if they cross a line.” Then she winks at me before lightly slapping my ass and sending me to work.
I let out a giggle, shake my head, rolling my eyes, and sway my hips onto the main floor in the gorgeous heels Sam lent me. I feel like fucking Cinderella. All excited and tingly. Completely different. It’s like none of this is real. Just a beautiful dream to soak up till the very last drop. I can barely believe I’m here, about to do this. The loud, upbeat music, the gorgeous decor of dark, velvety walls and furniture. The expertly dimmed lighting that allows both privacy and enough visibility to check out the crowd. And what a crowd! Club Curve in Delmonte, California, was reserved tonight for a private event. And the guests are no other than the National Hockey Championship winners, the Pacific Blazers. Twenty big, tall, loud, and freaking hot professional athletes. I barely know where to look. And I can tell it’s not just me, the newbie. Even Sam’s regular girls look more than a bit flustered by the piles of muscles on muscles and the insane amount of male pheromones saturating the air. Dang, it’s almost like we should be the ones paying.
Sameera promised me two-thousand dollars for the night. And she said I should expect some generous tips as well. All that just for hanging out with the patrons. Have a chat, share a drink, flirt a bit. I don’t know that I’m ready for any type of dance performance, but the keeping company part I‘m pretty sure I can do.
