by Starr, Faith
“It itches,” she whined. She continued to scratch it. I covered her hand with mine to stop the madness.
“I need to share something with you that I should’ve told you years ago.”
She set her mug on the small table, her expression turning serious. “What is it?”
Breathe.
“You know how I work as a server?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s more to it.” I chewed on my bottom lip.
She tipped her chin down. “Don’t tell me you’re stripping?”
“No.” I shook my head. “But it goes along those lines.” The tea I had swallowed made a return trip to my mouth. I forced the grossness back down.
She leaned in to whisper, “What exactly does that mean?”
“I’m a server at a strip club.” There! I said it. What a relief. “I have been for years. I do serve food, but I also serve alcohol.”
“A strip club? Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I want to be totally honest with you. The shame I feel about keeping it a secret is making me sick inside.”
“You don’t dance at this club?”
Now I tipped my chin but added in raised brows. “Have you seen me dance?”
“Good point. Why didn’t you want to tell me? I would have never thought differently of you. You’re a big girl, Lizzie. You have to make your own decisions about what you think is best for you.”
“I guess the part about serving alcohol…”
She took over where I left off. “Most servers deliver drinks, beer, and such. If it’s not triggering, then so be it. Only you know what does and doesn’t work for you. I’m not just your sponsor, I’m your friend too. No matter what.”
I tugged her into my arms. Ryan had been right. Real friends stuck by you through everything you faced.
“On Sundays, I do strip, not full nudity, with some of the other servers,” I whispered.
She pushed me back and put her hands on my shoulders. “Repeat that, please.”
“My manager calls it Staffer Sundays. We do a few dances to Britney Spears songs. I make most of my money during those shifts or else I wouldn’t do it.”
“Well, well, well. Seems you lead a double life, little lady.” She smirked.
“Are you mad I didn’t tell you?”
Please don’t be.
“I’m not mad. Hurt would better describe it. Hurt you felt you couldn’t share it with me.”
My focus shifted toward my jeans. “I’m sorry.”
“We’ve all done things we’re not proud of or don’t like to brag about. Hell, if I had your body, I’d strip too. It’s no wonder you make a lot of money during those shifts. You’re smokin’ hot.”
My cheeks warmed. “Stop. You’re embarrassing me.”
“Why?” She shrugged. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it. Can I ask if men touch you?”
Let the questions begin.
And they did. Loads of them. I answered each and every one. By the time we left for our meeting, all thoughts about Ryan and the pics of us online had disappeared. Until the images came to mind during my drive to the clubhouse where the AA meetings were held. Now I craved serenity more than I had earlier.
My seat of choice during meetings was in the front row so I could focus on the speaker. I was the type to get easily distracted.
We still had about five minutes to spare until the meeting began. The girl sitting next to me kept eyeing me. Finally, she spoke. “You look familiar.”
“I’ve been in these rooms for a while. My name is Lizzie. Are you new?”
“Yeah. I’m about forty days sober.”
“Welcome to the program. This is a great meeting. Lots of sobriety and recovery in here.”
“Thanks. I don’t think I know you from here, though.” She tapped her lip. “I know this may sound strange, but are you by chance dating Ryan Josephs of On The Fence?”
How could a stranger have recognized me? The pictures hadn’t been posted for more than twenty-four hours.
“Excuse me?” I played her question off as clueless.
“Ryan Josephs. He’s the lead singer of On The Fence.”
No, really?
Cool it, Lizzie.
She opened her phone and showed me the same pictures Hailey had shown me. “I’m a fan of the band and saw these pictures this morning. This girl must be your twin because the resemblance is uncanny.”
I raised a brow, pretending to be surprised. “Wow. She does bear a resemblance to me.”
“Right?”
Perfect timing. The speaker opened the meeting, which meant this girl’s conversation with me came to a halt.
I had trouble concentrating on the man’s words, especially when he spoke about being honest with ourselves and others. The girl next to me kept peeping at me, and here I was lying to her face about my identity. And let me not leave out all the other secrets I was keeping from everyone close to me.
Carly showed up shortly after. I had saved her the seat on my left. She’d texted and said she’d be running late.
She whipped her phone out of her purse and showed me the pictures, holding the phone low so as not to make a scene. She beamed with excitement. Of course, that got the girl on my right riled up because now she knew I was, in fact, the mystery woman in the pictures with Ryan.
“Not now,” I mouthed to Carly.
She danced in her seat, giddy as ever.
This was insane. I couldn’t even get peace at an AA meeting—a place that always provided me with comfort and acceptance. Right now, I felt anything but. I wanted to leave. So that’s exactly what I did. Sadly, I wasn’t alone in my escape attempt.
“Where are you going?” Carly called after me in the parking lot, trailing behind me.
“Why did you open your phone during the meeting? You should have waited until it was over, and we were in private.”
“I’m sorry. I thought it was cool. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t know until right before the meeting. Hailey showed me the pictures. I had no clue about them.”
“Not that. I’m referring to Ryan Josephs. Why didn’t you tell me you were dating him? It’s kind of big news. Don’t ya think?”
Holy shit. She was right. I had only told the girls in the house and Hailey. Things had happened so fast I’d never mentioned it to her.
“I’m sorry. It’s new.”
She tapped her foot. “I want details. This is ha-uge. I can’t believe you’re dating Ryan Josephs. He’s the hottest thing ever. And his voice? Kill me now.” Her hand rested against her chest. “And hello, you told Hailey but not me?”
I lowered my hand for her to take her dramatics down a level.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. So much is going on. I can’t get into it here.”
“Hey, you two. Why did you leave the meeting?”
Great. Hailey had joined us. I wouldn’t be able to leave even if I wanted to.
“Carly saw the pictures.”
“I’m dying. I want to meet On The Fence.” She bounced up and down.
“Carly, please. Lizzie has a lot to deal with. Lizzie, come back inside. You told me you needed a meeting. And with all the shit going on, it will help keep you centered.”
“I didn’t know you were struggling.” Carly put her arm around me.
“I’ll be fine. Like Hailey said, I have a lot going on.”
Hailey pushed loose hair behind my ear.
My phone vibrated. I didn’t recognize the number but answered in case it was Ryan.
“Hi. This is Jay Stevens with the Neighborhood Post. I wanted to ask you a few questions about your involvement with Ryan Josephs. Is it true—”
Click.
I disconnected the call, mortified a reporter had contacted me.
“Who was it?” Hailey asked.
“A journalist.”
Carly’s eyes widened. “A journalist?”
“Yeah. He wanted the scoop
on me and Ryan.”
“Shit,” she said.
“This is insane.” I shook my head in disbelief. “How did the guy get my number, let alone know who I was?”
“I think we should back inside,” Hailey encouraged, rolling her hand for us to get a move on it. “We could all benefit from the meeting.”
“Fine,” I huffed in protest, knowing damn well it was in my best interest to agree with her.
The three of us sat in the back row. Hailey held my hand. She was such an awesome friend. I felt a sense of relief that I’d finally fessed up and told her the truth about the club. Carly would hear about it next.
After saying the Lord’s Prayer, that same girl who had asked me about Ryan approached us.
“You are the girl in the pictures, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry, but this isn’t the time or place for this. If you want to talk about something from the meeting or recovery related, I’m game. Other than that, please respect my privacy and anonymity.”
She stormed off. It didn’t bother me. She’d learn soon enough she couldn’t control or manipulate others.
Hailey had been right. I did feel better. Other than when I received two more calls from different reporters. I hung up on both of them.
Hailey, Carly, and I went for lunch. I filled Carly in on the club situation. I wanted it out in the open—no more procrastinating.
“Just be aware of your feelings. You know, in case being around booze tempts you,” she advised.
“So far it hasn’t been an issue.”
“You know yourself better than anyone. I’m glad you told me.” She took my hand in hers and squeezed it.
And that was that. I had made a big-to-do about how they would react to the news and to my surprise, both had been supportive and understanding.
We parted ways, and I went home, wanting to clean and organize my room. We all had chores in the house. This week I had kitchen duty. It helped distract my thoughts. I had yet to hear from Ryan. But I did hear from more nosy reporters which irked me to no end.
I reached out to Ryan again, wanting him to know I was thinking about him. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Lizzie:Praying everything is okay with your grandpa. Please let me know how things are going. I’m here if you want to talk.
There was nothing more I could do. I wouldn’t keep texting. The ball was in his court now.
My phone rang. I answered it.
“Hi, Lizzie. It’s Robert. I know Erin said she’d fill in for you tonight, but she got food poisoning and is sick as a dog. I can’t get anyone else to cover that shift. Can you do me a favor and come in?”
Darn it! I shouldn’t have answered the phone. But then again, maybe keeping busy would put me in a better frame of mind.
“Sure. I’ll get dressed. I’ll be there soon.”
“Excellent. Thanks.”
And he did see me soon. The club was crazy too, busier than usual. We had a featured dancer performing for one night only. That was probably the reason why.
Isabella caught up with me while I was setting up my tables. Ugh! The gossip brigade.
“I didn’t know you were shacking up with Ryan Josephs.”
“We were hanging out at a pool. Nothing more.”
“You mean he wasn’t fingering you? Damn. I was totally off base with that one.”
“Isabella! Do you really think I would do something so risqué in public?”
“You don’t have to get into a tizzy about it. If it involved Nick, I’d let him finger me in a public pool. His hands are so fucking skillful—”
“Are we done with this conversation?”
“All I’m saying is it looked like you were getting your jollies, which means others might be thinking the same thing. And who cares? I’d be bragging about it if I were you. If that was me and Nick in those pictures, I’d have the Enquirer on the line, raking in the dough.”
“That’s horrible. You would actually screw him over?”
“Why not? He fucked me, several times, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”
“What did you expect, a marriage proposal?”
“No, Ms. Bitch. I didn’t. But still, it would’ve been nice of him to come in and see me again.”
“I’m sure you knew what you were getting yourself into when you took him home with you and Dena.”
“Screw you, Lizzie. Don’t try to make it like your behavior is any better than mine. At least my one-night stand didn’t get caught on film. Realistically speaking, it was two nights. I had more smarts than to fuck a rock star in public.”
“We weren’t having sex. We were swimming.”
“Sure you were.”
She took off.
Why the hell was she angry? I was the one posted all over social media with Ryan in what others speculated to be a compromising position.
I opened my phone to view the pictures again, wanting to see if Isabella’s take on them was legit. Even though I knew what really happened, people who viewed the pictures didn’t. They would let their imaginations get the best of them and think the worst of me as a result.
Studying one of the pics and trying to keep an open mind, I saw what she was talking about. Ryan’s hand was under the water near my privates, and my head was thrown back. Shit! I remembered that moment perfectly too. Ryan and I had been kissing in the shallow end of the pool. Then he started tickling my underarms and inner thigh. I threw my head back, laughing hysterically. The photographer who shot the picture didn’t show my face so readers wouldn’t see that I was merely having fun, not getting off.
“Lizzie, Nina’s running about thirty minutes late. Please cover the bar until she gets here. I’ll have another server pick up two stations in the interim. She better show up before the main event, or she’s out. I don’t have time for this shit, especially on a Saturday night.”
Of all nights, tonight he had to ask me to cover the bar. A night I didn’t feel so strong in my recovery. The thought got pushed aside because I needed the money, especially after spotting my dad cash to pay his rent.
Closing my eyes, I said a quick prayer then headed to the bar.
“Hi, Lizzie. Helping out again?” Mike asked from his end of the bar.
“Temporarily. Nina’s running late. I’m filling in until she gets here.”
“Excellent. Being I wasn’t sure if I’d be riding solo, I went ahead and set up the other side. Feel free to change whatever you want.”
I surveyed Mike’s handiwork and moved a few things around to better suit me.
Customers lallygagged. Beverages got served. Nina still hadn’t arrived. Where the hell was she? It had been way more than a half hour.
“Well. Well. Well. If it isn’t my favorite bartender. Spicy girl.”
This bozo was the icing on the cake of my day. My foul mood got worse as a result.
“Can I get you something?”
“Sure can. I’ll take you.” His eyes devoured my upper half.
Sicko.
“Not for sale. I already told you.”
“I’m not so sure about that. According to the Internet, you’re for hire. I was shocked. But then again, the guy you fucked in the pool is a celebrity. I don’t have that kind of cash. But I do have something better.” He cupped his groin, making sure I could see the gesture.
Did everyone and their mother follow On The Fence? This was turning into a shitshow.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now would you like a drink or not?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Some of your coworkers were having fun at your expense by discussing your other career when I entered the club. I asked them to fill me in, and they did something better, they showed me.”
How could Isabella and Sabrina backstab me by telling customers about the pictures and worse, showing them? What evil people they were. Dena was busy serving customers so I couldn’t find fault with her in this instance. But Isabella and Sabrina? Ugh!
>
“You’re mistaken.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Again, do you want a drink or not? I have other customers to attend to.”
“I’d rather know what your hourly charge is.”
Anger rose to the surface. I’d had it with this jerk and my coworkers. The bitches.
They’re just jealous.
Did it matter if they were? Their pictures weren’t posted online with derogatory comments made about their character. Mine were.
“You could never afford me.”
With that, I stormed off toward the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. It did nothing to put out the inferno burning inside me.
On my trip back to the bar, I spoke with Robert.
“That same guy is harassing me again. I’m not comfortable being behind the bar. Please let me return to my station. It’s been more than a half hour, and Nina still isn’t here.”
“Trust me. I know. She never showed up, and she won’t answer my calls. She’s now out of a job. If you don’t want to be, stop making requests, and get your ass back to work, behind the bar.” He turned on his heel and left for the front entrance, where he greeted incoming customers.
Clenching my jaw, I stomped back to the bar. Mike agreed to switch places with me after I told him about the jerk off who wouldn’t leave me alone.
“Scotch and soda,” a man dressed in a suit and tie requested.
I got right back to work.
“Coming up.”
“Why are you over here now?”
For God’s sake! The jerk off was back. The guy wouldn’t let up.
“Scotch and soda.” I repeated the name of the drink I was preparing because I couldn’t concentrate on the task at hand.
“Hey, spicy girl. How about another one of those Maria drinks you made for me the other night?”
Ignore him.
He’ll only keep at it.
Pretend you didn’t hear him.
While pouring the scotch, a weird sensation overtook me. I hadn’t had an urge to drink in years. Sure, the thoughts popped up now and again during rough times, but I had been able to brush them aside. I would also reach out to Hailey or Carly and attend more meetings when it happened. I couldn’t do any of those things right now because I was stuck mixing alcoholic drinks!