Chapter Nine
"This is hopeless," Opal said to no one. A week had gone by and it was terrifying to see how quickly the savings in her bank were dwindling already. There just wasn't any way to sustain herself with all the overdue payments that were accumulating.
She'd sat down to a nice, cheap meal and a cup of coffee at the diner near her house. It wasn't her first choice of places to grab some lunch, but when money was tight, there was not much else to do. Stirring her cup of energizing caffeine, she wondered how much she could save if she just stopped eating altogether. If anyone were to look in her refrigerator and pantry at the apartment, they would have assumed as much anyway. So, she took a big gulp of the hot liquid and closed her eyes to really enjoy it.
Out on the table in front of her were listings for job vacancies that she'd printed out at home. It helped her to think when things were on real paper, unplugged and on a surface before her. That's how they always come up with initial sketches and ideas for company logos and illustrations.
"How's the job hunt going, sweetheart?" said the older waitress as she approached to clear Opal's plate. That day, she had eaten every last crumb, not wanting to waste any money by throwing food out. How things change…
"Oh?" said Opal, startled out of her deep contemplation and rising depression. "You know how it is, all the good jobs are going to people who weren't just framed for stealing from their ex-employer. On top of that, I broke it off with my fiancé and I don't think I'll be going back to him; the usual."
"Christ, that's awful. Here, I'll tell you what: you let me know when you're done with that cup, and I'll top you up for free, okay?"
"You're very kind, thanks. I don't want to get you in trouble though."
"Hey, my husband and I own the place. That's him out back doing the cooking. You're not gonna get anyone in trouble. In fact, I'll tell you what. If you find yourself starving because you can't find any way to make money, you come here okay?"
"I don’t suppose you’re looking for someone to wait tables?" Opal didn't like the idea of going from a high paying creative job, to clearing up people's half eaten food and taking orders. But she couldn't be too picky, and this woman seemed like she'd be a great employer."
"Oh, no honey. I'm sorry to get your hopes up. I meant you can get yourself a sandwich and a nice cup of brew, if you're desperate." The woman smiled but it was clear that she felt bad for disappointing Opal.
"Thank you," she replied to the offer. "You're very kind." Her smile was genuine, and a kind of warm and fuzzy feeling came over her. "Really, thank you." She almost had to work to hold back a tear.
"Not a problem. Good luck with finding a job. Pretty young thing like you with good manners, well dressed too. I'm sure you'll have no problem." The women walked back behind the counter and went about her work.
After Opal went back home to mope and lick her wounds from an unsuccessful day looking for work, she found several upsetting letters in her mailbox. She stood in the lobby, mouth open and shaking her head in disbelief. There was a letter about her university payments, which she'd never thought twice about. After all, she'd gotten a good job after leaving and always had plenty of money to take care of this type of thing. Then, there was something that made her heart race.
"Ooh, that looks particularly bad, might I say," said the man checking his own mail nearby.
"Yeah, tell me about it," she replied. It was a letter from her mother's care and medical home. Vanessa had someone come around and help her out with tasks that were too tiring, and there was also a medical facility inside the grounds. It was basically like any other fancy condo block, but with care for people with ongoing medical problems.
"You have a relative who's sick? Gee, that is not a payment you want to miss. My name's Gus. Pleasure to meet you …"
"Hi, Gus. I've seen you around the building but no one seems to talk to each other much here. To be honest, I kind of like that about living here."
"Yeah, well it's a pretty expensive place to live. I can't image you being able to keep your joint if you can't take care of your poor mother." The way he spoke was as common as muck. He kept looking Opal up and down. It wasn't as if he planned to hit on her, and there was something a little too focused about his look to indicate that he was just perving. He had the look of a successful criminal, maybe a drug dealer or a pimp even."
"Sorry, I really should be going."
"Say, if you're ever short on money, you can give dancing a try."
"That's a good one. I've never been the best dancer, and I don't think anyone would—wait, are you talking about stripping?"
"Yeah, sure. You've probably seen my place a few blocks over. Here, take one of my cards and you be sure to let me know if you'd like to keep a roof over your head, not to mention making sure that sick mother of yours doesn't end up on the streets too." He walked off, slinked off really. It was surprising that he didn't leave a trail of grease behind him, like the stuff that was holding back his thick, dark hair. Opal shuddered, but she was intrigued by the thought of having lots of money.
"I'm not taking my clothes off in public!" she called out. An older lady with perfectly coifed hair and an expensive gold handbag, tacky as hell, looked at her with utter shock. "Wait, no, that's not what I meant. Damn it …" She went to run off after the guy just to give him a piece of her mind. He turned around and called back to her instead, "Tell you what. You're pretty enough to bring guys in with your clothes on."
Opal walked over to him. "Can you please stop shouting about this in the lobby? Shit … I'm not dancing for fat old perverts, clothes on or not."
"No, but maybe you'd prefer to get behind the bar and serve those perverts some drinks. Tips are better than most salaries, plus you'll get your guaranteed weekly paycheck on top of that. It's not rocket science."
"Let me think about it. I'll call you, okay?"
"Sure, sweetheart. Laters." He left the lobby. Opal felt dirty having simply talked to the guy, but desperate times did call for her to do what it took to keep her head above water. Falling any further behind with her payments was not an option, especially where her mother's care was concerned. She could handle losing her apartment, maybe even winding up with nothing to eat. Letting her mom go into a public home, that could end very badly for a lady with so many medical issues that needed constant care.
If Opal had to work behind the bar at a strip club, then that's just what she was going to do. Still, it didn't make it any easier, no matter how noble of a sacrifice it would be.