“Girl, look at you,” a man with a very thick southern accent said. “Aren’t you a pretty walking canvas. All those pretty tattoos make you pop. Pop, I tell ya.”

Mr. Saxon guided me into a large room with makeup stations and mirrors lining every inch of the walls. It reminded me of something that would be backstage of a large Broadway musical in New York. “This is Tennessee Charles. Tennessee, this is Anita Kyle. I just hired Anita to work as a sommelier.”

I extended my hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Charles.”

“Oh, child, call me Tennessee. My pappy was Mr. Charles and was a real son-of-a-bitch. Lucky for everyone who knew him, he’s rotting in the ground in Mississippi with a cheap ass headstone marker that his even cheaper good-for-nothing faggot of a son bought him. He’s just lucky I didn’t make it pink to spite the fucker.”

I nodded calmly, trying not to show that the man’s flamboyance and loud voice unnerved me. “Nice to meet you, Tennessee.”

Tennessee Charles was no doubt a walking character. The type of person you always saw in movies and wished to someday encounter but wondered if truly existed – like unicorns.

Well this unicorn existed.

He wore a cobalt blue smoking jacket with a cravat tied perfectly at his neck. The ivory-colored silk material had tiny blue diamonds spattered along the material that matched the jacket perfectly. He had gray pinstriped slacks that fit his body a bit tighter than most men wore their pants, but they accentuated the muscles in his legs. His shoes were blue velvet loafers the exact same hue as his jacket. His style was by far the most eccentric I had seen, and yet, still very sophisticated. His blond hair was combed to the side and slicked down which seemed to add age to his boyish face. I couldn’t exactly pin point how old he was. His style aged him, and yet his face and his hair, which lacked any gray strands, betrayed the older energy he gave off.

“I would like her uniformed in black,” Mr. Saxon directed.

Tennessee examined my body with squinted eyes. “I’m not sure, Kenneth. All those colorful tattoos could really make the red lace and diamonds sparkle. She’s like a rainbow, and there is no black in a rainbow.” He crossed his arms and took a few steps back to examine me further. “And I tend to put the sommeliers in the red uniform. Something about a woman in diamonds and lace delivering a cigar is just plain delicious.”

“No. I want her in black,” Mr. Saxon said again. “She herself said that she is a delicate flower who likes the fucking thorns. So in Anita Kyle’s rainbow… there is a shitload of black.” He turned to me and smirked. “Isn’t that right, Miss Kyle?”

I smiled, but my face heated as Tennessee released a big belly laugh. I couldn’t believe I’d actually said that in an interview. Why I got hired anyway, I had no idea.

“Oh lordy, lordy. We got a little spitfire here, I see.” Tennessee nodded when he finally stopped laughing. “Black it is. With a collar for our little thorn here.”

Without saying another word, Mr. Saxon turned and left the room, leaving me standing with my new direct supervisor and his blue suede shoes, not sure what the hell I’d gotten myself into. I was going to be handing cigars to billionaires while wearing a black leather leotard and collar. And The Tasting Room? What the fuck was The Tasting Room? I still wasn’t grasping the entire concept fully.

“All right, girl, follow me. I think I have a black uniform that will fit you perfectly. I may have to do a couple of take ins, but I doubt it. You most certainly are a tiny little thing.” He led me to a long metal rack that had several black leotards as well as long and short red lace dresses. “I can’t believe you cussed in your interview,” Tennessee added as he was sorting through the clothing. “That took some serious balls. Kenneth Saxon is a no nonsense man and puts up with very little. You must have impressed the man for him to look past dropping the f bomb. That man is a perfectionist and expects everything to be proper at all times. In control.” He shook his head. “The man could do with a good removal of that stick up his ass, but you didn’t hear that from me.” Tennessee gave me a wink. “He can be a real bastard. Just fair warning.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I was just so fuc—I was just so nervous. I’ve only had one interview before in my life, and I had no idea what to say or do. He made me nervous. I felt like he was staring right through me.”

“Oh, he was reading you. No doubt about that. He’s a huge corporate attorney and has made millions with that supernatural power of his. So whatever he was reading on your hidden little pages, he liked.”

“I don’t know how. I barely spoke. I tried to sound smart, mature, worldly, and fucked that up big time.” I placed my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry for cussing. I’m so nervous. I guess I cuss when I’m nervous. Just ignore me. I’m a disaster.”

Tennessee laughed and held a leotard up to my body, shook his head and kept looking through the rack. “Well, whatever you did, girl, landed you the job. And a good one too. He usually places the new girls in the kitchen or in housekeeping to prove themselves first. So, the fact that you are working the floor right off the bat is a good thing for you. Be proud of yourself.”

Knowing this little bit of information made me feel really good. I was pretty sure I had bombed it, and that Mr. Saxon hated me. But regardless, I had a job. I had a job in New Orleans on my first day. I couldn’t wait to tell Virgie all about it. She would be so proud of me. I’m not sure she would approve of The Tasting Room, though I wasn’t sure if I approved. I actually didn’t truly grasp what it was. Mr. Saxon seemed pretty tight-lipped about it, only telling me the very basics.

Tennessee held up another leotard to my chest with a satisfying nod. “Go ahead and try this on.”

I looked around for a door to a changing room, but there was only the one that Mr. Saxon and I entered.

“Girl, don’t be bashful now. You better get over that fast. And don’t you worry about me seeing that coochy of yours. Your juicys aren’t anything I want to sample. Your coochy and boobies are safe in my presence, I assure you.” When I didn’t move right away, he said, “Come on. I don’t have all day. We need to get you on the floor before Kenneth shits a brick.”

I loved the thickness of his accent. It gave him so much character and made even inappropriate words like boobies sound floral coming from his lips. I had a feeling I was really going to like this man, regardless if he was my supervisor or not. He seemed like he kept the energy up and added spice to life at Spiked Roses.

Stripping down, trying not to overthink that I was getting naked and putting on a leotard made out of leather, I quickly pulled on the fishnet stockings first and then the tight little one piece afterward. I couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity of the path my life just took. One second I was walking along a dirty highway feeling as if my life was about as boring and lifeless as one could get, and the next minute I was in New Orleans pulling on a leather body suit as a gay man named after a state was staring at me so that I could go hand out cigars to men only in the hopes that I could someday be so lucky as to attend a sex party for money. What. The. Fuck.

My giggle turned to a full-blown laugh, and when I saw Tennessee look at me as if I were an alien, I said, “I’m sorry. I just am a little overwhelmed with everything. I have never done anything like this, and well…” I kept laughing. “I’m sorry.”

He patted my arm before he walked over to a shelf where black pumps were neatly lined up, and said, “Size?”

“Seven.” I had somehow contained my laughter, but it teetered on the surface, threatening to burst from me at any minute.

As Tennessee brought me the shoes and I stepped into them, the door to the room opened and Marlowe entered with two girls following behind. Marlowe was wearing one of the red lace gowns that was see through in many areas, but delicately covered her nipples and lower half, but was, by far, the sexiest dress I had ever seen on someone. The fabric went down to her ankles but was slit up to her upper thigh. Behind her, there were two other women also in Spiked Roses wear. One was wearing a black leather uniform like the one I now wore, and another had red lace like Marlowe, but a shorter version that rested right above her knees.

“You got the job!” Marlowe said excitedly. She stepped aside so the other women could see me and introduced us. “This is Anita Kyle. She just moved into Marie St. Claire’s and obviously landed the job today.” She pointed to the brunette in black leather and said, “This is Ivy,” she pointed to the woman in red, “and this is Kinsey. They also live at Marie’s.”

I stepped forward, shook both of their hands, and tried to give the warmest smile I could. I didn’t have friends my age in Muckaluk. I only had two friends and those were Virgie and Roy. One of which I worked for, and the other one I paid in beer to tattoo me. So, I’m not sure they really counted. But this was my chance to have somewhat of a normal social life with women. I just hoped I wouldn’t fuck it up.

“You look great in that,” Ivy said. “You are going to fit in perfectly at Spiked Roses.”

I hoped so. Even though I really didn’t know what fitting in really meant. I did really hope so.