CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Amy
I decided waitressing again at the Thirsty Turtle wasn’t so bad after all. Jane gave me the most lucrative shifts, the ones filled with business men who brought clients out for drinks. I also worked every Saturday night which was when the real money rolled in, and Jane had hired a new bouncer named Dick Hardon. I know, but pity the man who said anything to his face. Big and brawny, with shoulders like a steam ship and hands big as my whole head, I knew Dick would keep me safe.
I still hated the fact that I was a cocktail waitress. Again. Hated the slinky dress they called a uniform. Hated the low lights. The loud music. The smoke!
This wasn’t how I envisioned my life. I knew lots of girls my age loved working the Thirsty Turtle. All they saw was the money. I wasn’t one of them. Well, I was and I wasn’t. I knew what I wanted out of life. Had known ever since I was nine. I wanted to travel. I wanted to teach all over the world, really make a difference in people’s lives. Before Dad’s accident, I was offered an internship in Guatemala. A little too late, I wasn’t going anywhere now—not when I was dad’s only living relative. I couldn’t abandon him. I just couldn’t.
I’d wracked my brain trying to think of another way to make money but I kept coming back to the same solution. How else could make five hundred dollars a night? For the first time in my life, money meant everything to me. If I had enough, I could save my father’s home, perhaps even afford a private nurse so we could live together again. I couldn’t do that if there was no home to bring him to.
Placing two scotches, a whiskey, and a couple of coke-and-rums on my tray, I smiled at Jane who was serving behind the bar tonight.
“Six months,” Jane said. “Nine months tops. You can do this.”
I adjusted my breasts inside the low-cut black dress, and pulled the skirt down in the back. “I can’t believe I’m doing this but what choice do I have? If can hold off the bank for just a little while and work my ass off without losing my temper, I’m golden. Right?”
“And it’s not forever. Just remember that.”
“I will.” I plastered on my best fake smile and took my skinny, short-skirted self over to a table of six men, three of whom eyed me like I was the best steak in town, their eyes glowed with menace beneath an overhead light. A dozen eyes scanned me up and down. One stroked his beard and made kissing noises. I pretended not to notice while I set the drinks on the table.
The Beard-Puller licked his lips. “Come here, doll,” he said reaching toward me. I gave him a polite smile and then removed his other hand, which had slipped between my legs. It was all I could do not to slam that tray over his head—but then that wouldn’t get me any tips would it?
My jaw clenched as I reined in my anger.
Judging by leather wing tip shoes, the silk tie and woolen grey suit, the guy was rich. Filthy rich and I knew he would tip big if I just played along.
But I couldn’t.
“Let go of me,” I said, staring down at another hand clutching my thigh. Beard-Puller chuckled, but then let go of his own accord. He took a swig of his whiskey.
“Awe, she’s skittish,” said the a bald headed man. “Probably knows how tiny your dick is, Pete. Come here, sweetie. Let me show you what a real man feels like.” I took a step back but not before the one called Pete pulled me into his lap.
Oh shit!
He smelled of liquor and nachos and the stench of his breath made my stomach crawl. To my horror, something else was straining to get free. Pete laughed. “See that, pretty lady. That aint a snake wriggling underneath ya. That’s an anaconda! Let me show you how to tame that nasty beast!”
“In your dreams, Pete,” said the bald guy. “She needs a real man to put that smile back on her face.”
I made to rise but his arms tightened like a vise. Terrified, I searched the dance floor, not making eye contact with any of them.
“I won’t bite,” Pete said. “Just want to have a little fun is all. Why don’t you and me go out back to my limo and take it for a spin, eh? I’ve got a lot of room in there. You can stretch out your pretty little body from head to toe.” His hand slid up my leg and though I tried to remove it, he had a vice-like grip.
Steadying my nerves, I tried another tactic. I “I don’t know, Pete. Your friend over there says your prick is too small. Maybe if we can find a magnifying glass it can come out and play, hmm?” The four spectators burst into raucous laughter and Pete tightened his grip on me.
“She’s got your number Pete,” said one.
“Think you’ve met your match with that hellcat,” said another.
“Maybe she needs us all to take her on,” said Pete.
“I wouldn’t touch the lot of you if my life depended on it. Fucking let go of me,” I hissed. “Now, you asshole!”
“Then just you and me huh,” said Pete in a calm matter-of-fact tone.
For the first time, I let myself look up at him, hoping there was some form of humanity there and not a sleezeball who simply abused women. What I saw was determined hooded eyes, a set jaw, and a chest that was rising and falling. The fucker was aroused as hell! I’m gonna kill Jane for making me work here again. And where the hell is Dick?
The digits on Pete’s right hand dug into my waist while his other groped my left breast. He tried to kiss me, his breath, reeking of stale whiskey that sliced into my cheek.
I struggled to get free but he just laughed and pinched my nipple through me dress. When he licked the side of my neck I thought I would be sick.
Suddenly, someone pulled me off Pete’s lap, yanked him out of his chair, and in my peripheral vision I saw a fist smashing into his face.
It happened so fast I was temporarily off-balance. Reeling back against the wall, I stared at my stunned would-be-molester sprawled across the floor. He rubbed his bruised jaw as a tickle of blood pooled in the corner of his lip. “What the…Who the fuck are you, pipsqueak?”
Pipsqueak?
I grinned at my champion. “Mateo?”
He pulled me behind him as Pete struggled to his feet. “You okay?” he asked, the evil glare directed at Pete before he glanced back at me for just a second.
“I’m okay. Thank you but watch—”
No sooner had I opened my mouth then Pete had launched himself onto Mateo. He got in one good punch in before Dick appeared, snatched him off Mateo’s chest, and grabbed him by the shirt collar. “I told you no fighting! You ass wipes!”
Within seconds, Pete was being dragged across the dance floor, through the back corridor where the restrooms were, and I assumed catapulted out the back door though I couldn’t actually see them that far. “And you…” He stabbed a finger in Mateo’s direction.
“It’s okay, Dick. He was helping me.”
“You sure?”I was shivering from the stress of the situation. “Yeah.”
“All right. Then, thank you whoever you are.” He looked at me and said softly. “I’m sorry you got hurt. I just stepped out for a second. Fuck, I knew those guys were trouble the minute they walked in here.” He held out a hand to Mateo. “Good thing you were here, man.”
“It…It’s okay,” Mateo said, taking Dick’s proffered hand and getting to his feet.
“Wanna get out of here?” Mateo asked, taking off his coat and wrapping it around my shoulders.
“Go,” said Dick. “I’ll let the boss know.”
“Right.”
Mateo grabbed my purse off the table and handed it to me. “Oh. You probably want to change first.”
“I do. I’ll be right back.”
It took me exactly seven minutes to slip back into my jeans and sweatshirt, tell Jane I was leaving, and punch my time card. I noticed Mateo over by the front door chatting away with Dick as if they were old friends as I approached.
“You sure you’re okay?” asked Dick. “That pansy ass didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No. No, I’m fine, Dick. Really.”
“You met this guy before?” he asked pointing to Mateo who had left briefly to settle his bill at the bar.
“Yeah, the other week, right after— He bought Jane and I drinks. I think he’s a fireman.”
“Another one, Amy?” He arched one suspicious brow. Jesus, did Jane have to tell everyone about my breakup.
“Surely, they’re not all the same,” I said.
Dick sighed and shook his head.
“He’s all right, besides, we’re just friends.”
He rubbed his jaw as if considering his options. “Okay.” He glared at Mateo as he reappeared by my side. “Just walk her home, buddy. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” Mateo took me by the hand. “You want to walk?” A glimmer of happiness mixed with confusion reflected in his eyes. “Don’t you have a car?”
“It’s only a few blocks,” I said defensively.
“Kind of dangerous though. I mean, it is ten o’clock at night.”
I linked my arm in his. “That’s what I have you for.”
I was kind of embarrassed about what happened and I didn’t want Mateo to get the wrong impression about my intentions. “Just friends, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“I guess I should thank you then.”
“No need. It’s one of my hobbies.”
“Your hobby?”
“Yeah. I’m an escort...for damsels in distress.”
I laughed. “Well, I’m grateful.”
I hated walking home alone, but I sold my car as part of the ‘save dad’s house fund.’ I’d convinced myself it was no big deal to walk a mile and a half, but Mateo was right about the danger, and the details of what just happened confirmed that.
For the first ten minutes of our journey, we spoke very little. When we both decided we had something to say, our words came out in a scrambled jumble of two people trying to talk at once. We both laughed.
“You first,” I said.
“No. Ladies before gentleman.”
“Okay. I…I guess I was in over my head back there. I’m not really good at flirting with the customers.”
“You shouldn’t have to be.”
“I know but—”
“Listen, that guy was an jerk. Guys like that think because they have money they can do whatever they want…to whoever they want. You did nothing wrong.”
“Thanks for saying that.”
“Why are you working at the Thirsty Turtle, anyway? You don’t seem the type.”
“I don’t?”
“Nope.”
“What type am I then?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t see you as a cocktail waitress kind of girl.”
“Well, it’s honest work,” I said defensively pausing in my stride to glare at him.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. Sorry. That didn’t come out right. I didn’t mean… Of course, there’s nothing wrong with being a waitress.” His lips thinned and he looked up and down the street, uncomfortable.
“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh and you’re right. Truth is, I shouldn’t be working there. I…I actually hate my job.” Tears moistened my eyes and I let myself slip into his arms. He groaned a little and I realized my mistake. I wanted to be comforted but not like this. It was too soon. I pulled back slightly and fumbled in my purse for a tissue.
“Hey! Hey, don’t cry. Will you tell me what’s wrong? Maybe I can help somehow.”
I hadn’t meant to, but all my troubles with Penelope, my dad’s accident, and the house came rushing out. I told him how lost I felt, that I wasn’t sleeping or eating. I hadn’t cooked myself a decent meal in over two weeks—and I loved to cook. I was living on breakfast bars, oranges and burritos, which gave me so much gas I could power the whole Eastside of my neighborhood. That got us to laughing but soon I was crying again. This time it wasn’t about the house. I suddenly realized that Mateo wasn’t the person I wanted to share this with. I should have shared this with Brock. How was it I could tell Mateo, whom I hardly knew, and not him? It didn’t matter now. The details of our breakup were the only things I didn’t share with Mateo. That, I kept to myself. It was all I had left of my heart.
When the subject of my eventual eviction came up, Mateo got all quiet as if contemplating his next words. “You know, I have a friend…” he said giving me a wide grin. And I told him all about you.”