I wasn’t going to have a nervous breakdown, not now. And if I gave in to everything I was feeling, my system would probably shut down for a month.
I needed to concentrate, prioritise.
Stay awake was first. Find out what was wrong with my car was second. Find out if Dad was okay was third. Find a way to make up the money I gave Dad was last, or maybe first.
Or maybe the problem was, it was all first.
Chapter Four
Out of the Frying Pan and Into Eddie’s Bed
My luck changed when Smithie called me and told me a “friend” was going to be in the parking lot of my apartment building at two o’clock to look at my car.
This meant I had a genuine reason for leaving early, thus avoiding Eddie.
I left Fortnum’s at 1:30 pm because I had to take the bus and I met Smithie’s friend at my Honda. He tinkered around under the hood for a couple of seconds then straightened up and wiped his hands on his greasy, blue coveralls.
“Gonna hafta tow this in,” he told me.
Oh no.
“Is it bad?” I asked.
“Can’t tell. Need to get in there.”
Wonderful.
“I can’t tow it today, I’ll have the wrecker here tomorrow some time.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
I called JoJo to arrange a ride while I watched the mechanic drive away. Then, I dragged my behind up to the apartment, looking forward to sleeping for a full three hours before having to go into Smithie’s.
When I opened the door to the apartment Mom shouted, “Oh good! You’re early.”
I walked into the living room, Trixie was there and it looked like a Beauty Salon Bomb had exploded.
“Hooray! I’ll have more time to work,” Trixie said.
I absolutely loved Trixie. She’d had dyed red hair for as long as I could remember. She wore it teased out big. It looked good on her. She was petite, had happy, brown eyes and the most beautiful hands I’d ever seen on anyone. She had what I thought of as an artist’s hands.
“Trixie, what are you doing here?” I asked as I gave her a hug. Trixie usually came to visit Mom on a Monday.
“Surprise! You’re getting a manicure, pedicure, facial and highlights.”
I did a mental groan.
“Trixie…”
“Nope. No arguments this time. Your Mom says you’re worn out; so today, it’s all about you. It’s Jet’s Day of Beauty.”
I needed a manicure and highlights like I needed a hole in the head. Both required maintenance and maintenance required time and money and I had neither of those.
Trixie was dashing around the room, getting prepared and Mom was smiling her glamorous lopsided smile. They thought they were doing me a favor. They thought this was a good thing.
Damn. How did you say no to that?
Trixie put one of our dining room chairs in the living room, I sat in it and she swooped a drape around me.
“Oscar came in today,” I said to Mom.
“Really? How is Oscar?” Mom replied, feigning innocent surprise.
“I don’t know, since most of the time he was there he was yelling at Eddie in Spanish and the rest of the time he was yelling at him in English and any leftover time he was yelling at me.”
“Oh dear,” Trixie said.
“That didn’t go as planned,” Mom said to Trixie.
My mother.
If I didn’t love her, I’d kill her.
Trixie started mixing some gunk in a little bowl with a wide flat paintbrush and shrugged at Mom.
“Everything’s okay with Eddie so you can stop meddling,” I told them.
“I better call Javier,” Mom said quietly.
See what I mean?
“How okay are things with Eddie?” Trixie asked, giving me a wide-eyed, nosy stare.
I looked to the ceiling and asked for deliverance.
God clearly had better things to do that day.
I guided them off the subject of Eddie. I fell asleep during the pedicure with a head full of foil wrap and had to be woken up to get my hair rinsed in the kitchen sink.
“Voila!” Trixie said, handing me a mirror when she was done.
I stared at myself in disbelief.
Okay, I had to admit, it looked good. No, really, it looked great. She’d cut off a couple of inches so my hair just brushed past my shoulders, gave me a deep thick bang that was parted well to the side and looked almost sexy. It did actually brighten me up. In fact, my eyes looked more green than hazel and my skin looked kind of glowy.
“It’s great,” I said.
“It is! It’s you! It’s perfect! You’re a whole new Jet,” Trixie announced.
I wished I was a whole new Jet with a whole new life but I’d take the new ‘do because I wasn’t going to get the other, that was for sure.
Trixie did my makeup for Smithie’s, which also looked better than I could ever do, and I was a dab hand at makeup. I celebrated my new look by wearing my sexiest slut shoes with my Smithie’s uniform. They were black patent leather, closed, pointed toe with double, thick straps with a dual buckle at the ankle. Smithie called them my dominatrix shoes and he wasn’t wrong.
JoJo and I were only five minutes late when we swung through the door. Smithie was at his usual place behind the bar. He turned when we entered, opened his mouth to say something smart and his mouth just stayed open when he saw me.
I put my purse and cardigan on the bar.
“Please tell me you did that to your hair ‘cause you’re gonna dance a pole.”
“I’m not dancing a pole,” I told him.
He handed me my apron and, as usual, I slid my cell into the pocket. I always did this; I was never without my cell, just in case Mom needed to call.
Smithie kept talking. “So, then, it was to throw me off the fact that you didn’t call me to tell me some dickhead held a knife to you last night.”
Damn.
Lenny had given me up.
“It was nothing.”
“It didn’t sound like nothin’, it sounded like fuckin’ somethin’. You’re escorted to and from the building from now on.”
I opened my mouth to argue but he lifted his hand. Everyone knew you shut up when Smithie lifted his hand.
“Okay,” I said.
“I take it since you sashayed in with JoJo that your car still ain’t workin’,” he said.
“Right,” I told him.
He put my purse and cardigan behind the bar. “Then one of the bouncers picks you up and takes you home. You don’t arrange it, I will.”
I nodded because he wasn’t exactly opening it up for discussion.
“Good,” he said. “Get to work.”
I got to work and knew right away it wasn’t going to be a good night. My station included three tables at the front by the stage. Two hours in, those tables were taken up by a bachelor’s party. Who on earth would have a bachelor’s party on a Tuesday, I did not know, but there they were. They were getting drunk quickly and I knew by the way they were behaving (giving me winks, calling me “babe”, elbowing each other and giggling every time I was near) that they were going to be trouble. In fact, for a Tuesday, it was a busy night. All the tables were full, there were some men standing around and the bar was two deep.
It was just after midnight, my section had gone from drunk and stupid to drunk and getting rowdy and I was at the waitress station at the bar. The waitress station was separated from the rest of the bar by two big, brass rails that went up the front of the bar, ran high and curled around the back. I was waiting for an order to be filled and deciding that, even though they were my sexiest slut shoes, I hated them with all my heart because my feet were killing me. I was dog tired and looking forward to my three hours of sleep when Tanya, another waitress, slid in beside me.
Now, Tanya wanted to be at a pole. She looked great, lots of dark hair, a fake DD-cup and long legs. She tried the stage once but she was a terrible dancer; not only two left feet, b
ut also no rhythm and when she tried to dance sexy, well, there’s no way to describe it, it was just plain wrong. It was hard to watch her up there, it was so bad. Smithie took her off the stage and gave her a uniform. It broke her heart. She was now taking salsa lessons in hopes of another go.
“I’m in love,” she told me.
“Really? That’s great,” I said.
She laughed.
“You idiot. Not really. More like in lust. Got a guy at my station the likes you don’t see in here very often.”
I looked over my shoulder to her station but there were people standing around and I couldn’t see any of her tables. “Who is he?”
Someone shifted and I froze when I saw Eddie sitting alone at a table, his legs stretched in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His arms were crossed on his chest. He had a beer bottle on the table in front of him, his face was blank and his eyes were on the stage. He watched the stage like I would guess he’d watch a sitcom, as if it was all the same to him.
“Holy shit!” I said, turning away.
“I know!” Tanya said. “Isn’t he hot?”
No.
No, no, no, no.
This was not happening.
“Jet, are you okay?” Tanya asked.
What was I going to do?
I couldn’t leave, I needed the tips and the hours and Smithie’d lose his mind.
I couldn’t stay because Eddie was there and he was going to see me in my Smithie’s uniform and that did not bear thinking about.
“I know him,” I told Tanya.
“You do? Who is he?”
“Pour a beer on him, turn the table on him. Something, anything to get him to leave,” I said to her.
“Is he bad news?” she asked, looking toward the table.
“Don’t look!” I said, grabbing her face by the chin and making her look at me.
“He hurt you or something?” she asked between smushed lips and I let her face go.
“No. He’s just… I… shit!”
I had to do it, I was in a slut outfit and Eddie was there. As fast as I could, I told her my life story, leaving out bits and skipping over bits but essentially telling her about my confidence problem, my crush and what had been happening the last few months.
“What’s wrong with you?” Tanya said, staring at me like I lost my mind. “Get in there, girl.”
“You don’t understand,” I said.
“No, I don’t and I’m not pouring a beer on him, although I’d like to see that t-shirt on him wet. You look fantastic in that outfit and you shouldn’t be ashamed of that. Your new hair is killer and he’s obviously here to see you ‘cause it’s clear he isn’t interested in what’s on stage. So, he should see you.”
“Tanya.”
“Un-unh.” She shook her head, gave me a “talk to the hand” gesture, grabbed her tray and strutted away.
Wonderful.
I got my drinks order and spent the next hour hiding from Eddie by walking far out of my way, putting people between us. I didn’t even look in his direction, although that took a super-human effort.
I was at the bachelor party, having unloaded another tray of drinks on them when I turned and chanced a glance at Eddie’s table. It was now filled with four guys, drinking beer, staring at the stage and adjusting their crotches.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Eddie was gone.
Thank God.
I was about to go toward the bar but stopped.
Eddie was leaning on the bar.
I had no time to react because he began to scan the room, looked past me, then his head snapped back and his eyes locked on me. Even in the dim light, I saw his brows draw together and he straightened away from the bar.
I realized then how I’d avoided him; it was the hair. He’d probably seen me but didn’t know who I was.
“Damn,” I said.
At that moment, my luck, never good, turned nasty.
I felt a hand go from the back of my knee, up my thigh, nearly to my mini-skirt.
I whirled around.
“No hands,” I snapped to Bachelor Number One, the one I’d clocked as the one to watch. He had greedy eyes and, at first sight, I didn’t like him.
“Hey babe, why aren’t you up there?” He motioned to the stage, “You’d be shit-hot up there.”
I started to walk away but was tagged by a hand at my camisole and pulled back.
I turned around.
“I said, no hands.” I looked around for Lenny or one of the other bouncers but I saw none. The place was packed.
“You left without your tip,” Bachelor Number One said.
He held up a fifty.
A fifty was a fucking great tip and definitely worth the f-word. Even the dancers didn’t often get fifties.
I went to take it and he snatched it away.
He folded it in half, lengthwise.
“I want you to take it with your teeth.”
Then he held it at his fly.
What a jerk.
My eyes moved to his and I couldn’t help it, fifty dollars or not, my lip curled.
“I don’t think so.”
I turned to walk away; he grabbed me by the waist, yanked me back onto his lap and curled an arm tight around me. With the other hand, he slid the fifty between my breasts.
That’s the last thing he did of his own accord.
The next thing I knew, a hand wrapped around my wrist and Eddie jerked me out of his lap. The strength of the pull and momentum of my body threw me away from him several feet and I crashed into some guys who were standing around. Still, I saw Eddie yank Bachelor Number One out of his chair by his collar.
Then he held him by his collar and he put his fist in his face. It was not pretty and I winced. You could hear his nose breaking.
The other bachelor party boys rose from their seats in defence of their brethren and all hell broke loose.
Several guys tried to jump Eddie but he had his eyes on the prize, yanking Bachelor Number One free of the clutch and, still holding his collar, slammed his fist into his face again.
That’s all I saw. I was being jostled and pushed back, teetering on my dominatrix shoes. Lenny got to me and pulled me out of the rapidly growing brawl. It started with Eddie and the bachelor party and grew.
I saw one of the bachelor party boys get thrown on stage. JoJo was dancing and he nearly collided with her. She let out a screech and all the girls began running around and then disappeared into the back.
I wanted to try to get to Eddie but Tanya grabbed my arm, pushed my purse into my hands and tugged me out the front door. The other waitresses and some of the dancers were standing outside, taking the brawl opportunity to get a smoke break in and some of the customers were reeling out to get away from the pandemonium.
“Holy crap! Did you see that?” Tanya asked. “I watched the whole thing. You were in the way so your hot guy couldn’t see what was happening with the money. The minute that asshole pulled you on his lap, though, your man threw three guys out of his way to get to you. It was ace!” she shouted, clearly excited.
I felt a thrill race through me that Eddie would do that for me.
Three squad cars pulled up and the cops went in, the customers went out and we stood around waiting for the all clear to close down the joint.
Eddie came out with a man in uniform, scanned the crowd and hangers on and locked on me. He said something to the cop, disengaged and walked to me. He had blood on his white t-shirt but it didn’t look like it was coming from him, thank God. His eyes glittered, even in the dim light of the club sign and street lamps. When he got closer, I noticed his knuckles were bloody and I was guessing that some of it was his blood.
I didn’t think, I just snatched up one of his hands and stared at it, then looked up at him, still holding his hand.
“We need to get you some ice,” I said.
Eddie didn’t get a chance to respond because Smithie lumbered up.
“How many times do I have to tell y
ou bitches, no boyfriends?” he shouted at me. “Shit, girl. You are a fuckin’ pain in my fuckin’ ass. Do you know how much damage this badass motherfucker caused?” He turned to Eddie, “I knew you were trouble the minute you fuckin’ walked in.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I told Smithie and Smithie turned back to me.
“Bullshit. Jet, you owe me. I gotta replace broken fuckin’ furniture. Tomorrow night, you’re takin’ a pole.”
“One of your customers was all over her. Where were your bouncers?” Eddie asked, his voice strangely quiet which made it strangely scary.
“The boys were busy, it was packed,” Smithie replied. “Jet can take care of herself.”
Eddie moved his body in a way that was openly threatening, even though I still held his hand. Smithie pulled himself up.
“He had her in his lap with his hand down her shirt,” Eddie said.
Smithie’s eyes got hard.
No one messed with his girls. It was strictly look but don’t touch at Smithie’s.
He turned to me. “No shit?”
I nodded.
“Goddamit, Jet. If you were at a pole, we could fuckin’ control it. You’re no good on the floor. You gotta take a pole, for my fuckin’ peace of mind if nothin’ else.”
“The other girls get it too.”
“Not nearly as much as you. You got that girl next door shit goin’ on. Fuck!”
“I’m not taking a pole, Smithie.”
“Tomorrow, you’re onstage,” Smithie said.
Eddie realized what we were talking about and his body tensed. You could see it; you could almost feel it and the open threat to Smithie turned hostile.
“She’s not going onstage.”
Smithie looked from Eddie to me, then back to Eddie.
He sighed and shook his head.
“You’re a pain in my fuckin’ ass,” Smithie said to me.
“Am I fired?” I asked, fear that I finally pushed him too far tearing at my gut.
“No you’re not fuckin’ fired. We have a brawl twice a year. We were due.” Smithie said while he moved behind me and yanked the ties of my apron, pulling it away. Then he came back around and pointed at me. “But keep your fuckin’ boyfriend outta here.”