Chapter Two
By the pale light of morning my hope for a bright new day faded fast.
I woke with a red wine headache and ringing in my ears. In denial, I rolled over and pulled the covers higher.
As my brain and my body regained full awareness I realized two things. My lip hurt like hell—somehow worse today than it had yesterday. And the ringing was not in my ears but coming from my cell phone, wherever the hell it was.
Pawing through tangled sheets and too many pillows—the one indulgence I could afford in quantity were the three dollar bed pillows from Walmart—I finally hit upon the square hard outline of my phone. I freed it from its pillow prison and groaned at what I saw on the display.
It was my boss.
Make that ex-boss. The memory made me groan.
I clearly had a choice to make. I could answer or I could ignore the call, which is exactly what I wanted to do. My small rebellion against the man who'd supported the grabby-handed customer instead of his loyal employee, who also happened to be on the right side of the dispute.
But there was the not insignificant matter that he had my last week's paycheck hostage.
Poverty had me swiping to answer, but I made sure I had plenty of attitude in my voice as I said, "Yeah?"
"Chelsea. How are you?" Frank's tone sounded loaded with genuine concern for my well being.
The bastard. I was mad at him. And he was worried about me.
I scowled at the turn of events. "My lip hurts and I look like hell."
"I'm sorry about that. Did it need stitches? Did you go to the doctor?"
"No."
"If you decide you need to go, please give me the bill."
Dammit. Why was he being so nice? It was making it too hard to stay mad. "Oh, don't worry. I will."
"I'm sorry how things worked out. He was wrong."
That comment reignited my mad nicely. "And yet you fired me and paid for his entire bar bill."
Frank's sigh came clearly through the phone. "The customer is always right."
"Even when they're wrong." I scowled.
"Unfortunately, yes."
I heard the regret in his voice and drew in a breath. This conversation was going nowhere. All it managed to do was make me more unhappy. With Frank being so damn nice I didn't even have my anger to keep me warm.
I sighed and decided to end the torture for both of us. "Can I come by and pick up my check?"
"Of course. Unless you want me to mail it to you instead."
Mail would take a few days. My financial situation was too dire for that. I kind of needed it now. Not that it would cover the rent but it would help get me closer to the total. The rest I could get by—I don't know—begging on the Metro or the street maybe.
"No need to mail it. I'll stop in."
"Sure. It'll be in my office."
"Okay."
"Chelsea?"
"Yeah?"
"I really am sorry."
I pressed my lips together. The move hurt. The pain helped my resolve as I refused to say thanks. Instead, I said, "I'll see you in a bit," and hit to end the call before I let myself feel sorry for my boss because he felt bad for firing me.
The urge to wallow was strong. It would be so nice to be able to look on the bright side of being unemployed. To be able to take advantage of my new found freedom. Lay around all day in yoga pants and rewatch the old seasons of Gilmore Girls while I could still afford Internet and Netflix.
Unfortunately, I didn't have the luxury of being lazy.
But more than that, the Jersey girl in me wouldn't stay down for the count.
Deep down I was a fighter. It was what had gotten me fired in the first place, but it was also what would get me back on my feet now. As hard as that seemed at the moment.
I resigned myself to the fact I had to get up, flung the covers back and swung my legs over the edge of the mattress.
Bare footed I wandered out of my closet of a bedroom and into the living area of the apartment. Trina was already gone for the day. Having a real job meant she was up and out early.
It was rare my modeling or acting—or cocktail waitressing, for that matter—had me out of bed early. I wasn't an early bird but it looked as if I might have to become one to make ends meet.
I considered that and how much an office job might pay as I put on the tea kettle and headed back to my bedroom to get dressed.
I could work as an assistant maybe.
How hard could that be? Making reservations. Answering phones. Emailing. Hell, it was all stuff I did for myself so it wouldn't be any harder getting paid to do it for someone else.
In fact, I'd start to look today.
Fueled with determination, hot tea and a forgotten stale muffin I found in the drawer of the fridge, I arrived at Camelot a short time later.
Putting on my game face, I strode inside. The morning shift was already working. I saw Brandi on stage, naked except for the G-string holding her tips. Carlos, looking as large and stone-faced as ever, was working security.
The time of day held no meaning in a club with no windows. There were already a few men seated around, their eyes glued to the stage. They were all clad in the D.C. uniform—navy blue business suits with red power ties.
"Hey, Chelsea." The familiar voice had me turning to see Morgan.
She was one of the waitresses and, sharing similar frustrations, we'd become sort of friends. She and I both hated that we made crap tips compared to the dancers. But neither of us could bring ourselves to take the leap from waitressing while scantily clad, to dancing totally nude, even though Frank had offered prime time shifts on stage to both of us if we wanted them.
Morgan was gorgeous with long dark hair and even longer legs. Lean where it looked good but curvy where the men liked it. And all natural.
I was tall and blonde and had only the attributes God gave me, as well. In a business where fake boobs and bleached hair was the norm, to have au naturale dancers set a club apart.
I won't lie, I was tempted to take him up on it a few times when I saw the dancers struggling to shove all their cash into their purses at the end of the shift.
"Hey, Morgan," I said.
She leaned her head to try and see my lip and hissed in air between her teeth. "Ouch."
"Yup." Ouch was right.
I'd covered the cut and bruise the best I could with makeup but it was still visible for anyone who knew to look for it. Even though Morgan hadn't been working last night, I was sure the story had spread through the crew.
"I heard what happened. The guy totally deserved it. It sucks you got fired. I’m sorry."
"Thanks." What else could I say? It did suck, but it was nice to know at least that the story circulating was favorable to me and not to mister grabby hands.
"Do you know what you’re going to do now?" she asked.
That seemed to be the big question. I wish I had an answer. "I'm going to start looking around. I need something. I'm just not sure what yet."
She hesitated, her lips pressed tight, before she said, "I did hear of something. I'm not sure if you'll be interested—"
"I'm interested."
Was she crazy? At the moment I'd take just about anything. I couldn't afford to be choosy.
I figured I could get picky about my employment later. After I'd covered this month's rent and student loan payment, and padded my checking account with enough money the greedy bank would stop charging me a monthly fee for having below the minimum balance.
I could look for something better while I was working whatever job I could get immediately. That was the smart plan. The responsible thing to do.
"What is it?" I asked, when she still looked reluctant to tell me. Her hesitation only made me want it more.
"Okay, I'll tell you, but keep in mind this is second hand knowledge. I can't vouch for the agency personally. I only heard about it from a girl I know."
Agency? I liked the sound of that. I was well versed with agents and agencies thanks to the years I'd spent modeling and acting.
This was sounding better by the minute. Maybe getting fired was the best thing to happen to me. It shoved me out of my comfort zone, where I was surviving on tips at a job I'd never wanted in the first place, and forced me to be proactive to do what I was meant to do. What I'd gotten my very expensive degree in.
My bad luck might just lead to my dream job.
I nodded. "Okay. I understand. Where is it?"
Biting her lip, she hesitated once again.
Was this job so good she didn't want to share it? My pulse raced as I waited, feeling desperate, afraid now she'd change her mind and not tell me at all.
Finally, she put down her tray, pulled out her pad and pen and scribbled something. Ripping off the top sheet, she handed it to me. "This is all I have. Just the name. But she said if you search online it'll come right up."
I glanced down and read what she'd written. "Angel Escort Services." Frowning, I looked up at her. "Escort?"
Morgan drew in a breath. "It's not as bad as it sounds."
That was good because it sounded pretty bad. I was desperate but not enough to start hooking.
She continued, "It's an agency that sets up men—and women—with escorts. You know, for parties and fundraisers and stuff like that. No sex. Just public dates. A lot of the guys are foreign diplomats. She said they're always looking for pretty girls to be arm-candy for events. And they want blondes in particular."
Wasn't that special? Lucky me, I was blonde. Maybe I could be the date for the asshole who'd grabbed my ass. I clenched my jaw, getting angry all over again.
"My friend says she's gotten paid as much as a thousand dollars for a weekend. And they put her up in her own room at the Four Seasons. And, of course, paid for all food and drink and transportation costs. Oh, and she needed a formal gown so they paid for that too."
"A thousand dollars plus expenses?" I was suddenly less angry. "Are you sure she didn't have to have sex with the guy for that?"
It all sounded way too good to be true.
"She swears. No sex. She said she just had to smile and nod and act like the perfect date. She really didn't even have to talk to him. He was speaking in some foreign language to other people most of the time. He just wanted a hot girl on his arm."
Wow. It really did seem unbelievable. "Why aren't you applying there?"
"I think I'm going to. Especially after what happened to you last night. I figure I can juggle both jobs by switching shifts with some of the other girls here. And if this Angel place is really that great, I'll just quit here. She only told me about it a couple of days ago. I haven't had a chance to check it out yet. So if you go over, let me know what you think. Okay?"
That made me feel better. If Morgan was willing to give this place a try, I could too. "Okay."
"So what do you think? Are you going to check it out?" she asked.
"Yeah, I think I will." I couldn't see how I could not.