The Book Of Firsts

by Portia Moore

  I almost have a heart attack as arms wrap around my waist from behind. I turn around to see a man hanging onto me. “Let me buy you a drink, beautiful,” he slurs. I yank myself away from him as if he has the plague.

  Angie appears behind me once more. “She’s okay!”

  She grabs me once again and pulls me behind her. Before we make it another yard, another guy grabs my hand. What the hell are these men’s problem? They don’t have any respect or sense of boundaries.

  Before he can even say anything, I blurt out, “No, thank you!”

  I pull my hand from his and scurry back to Angie’s side.

  She looks at my sympathetically. “Hun, that’s going to happen all night. Just be polite and let them know that you’re not interested. If they get aggressive I’ll have Big Dave kick their ass.”

  We squeeze our way past withering bodies and to a stairwell; several hands grab at me. I can see the same thing happening to Ang. I’ve been in Chicago for almost two years and I’ve seen all the landmarks. Even a few bars. But this is a completely different experience. There’s so much energy surrounding me from all sides. There are people of all different ages and ethnicities all in one place—it’s electrifying and intimidating.

  We reach the second floor, to what I assume is the VIP area. There’s another big security guy guarding the entrance.

  “Lauren, this is Big Mike, Big Mike, this is Lauren,” she introduces us. “How’s it been tonight?”

  Big Mike shrugs as he responds, “Busy as always. If you guys need anything, let me know.”

  He smiles at both of us and we smile back, I like his vibe a lot more than Big Dave’s. As we walk past him, Angie pulls me over to whisper in my ear, “He means if you need him to break anyone’s hands that he’ll gladly do it.”

  I quickly glance over my shoulder and see the dangerous man grinning at me. We make our way over to a table where there’s already several people sitting. There are three gorgeous girls sitting next to each other. One of them has deep red hair that’s similar to my Auntie Raven’s. The girl sitting to her left has long blonde hair that is completely straight. Her boobs are actual Double D’s and not fakes like mine, that are only enhanced by the $50 bra I’m wearing. The last girl looks vaguely familiar. Her hair just barely brushes her shoulders. It was blonde with bright purple tips. Angie runs up to the table, dragging me behind her as she excitedly announces, “Hey girls! This is Lauren.”

  They all look up and say hello. They all are so beautiful and confident. Next to them, I feel like a ten-year-old trying on her older sister’s clothes and trying to be cool.

  “Lauren, this is Trish, Tori, and Hillary. They round out our little crew here. They will become your new best friends as you navigate working here,” Angie says enthusiastically.

  “She already got the job?” the redhead, Trish, asks. She has a small smile on her face, but her tone makes me think that she’s slightly annoyed.

  Not yet, but she will, hun,” Angie replies, her voice strained.

  Trish gives me a forced smile. Angie moves towards them and gestures for them to make room on the large, leather couch. My feet are glued to the floor. I’ve just got a terrible feeling of dread and panic. This was a ginormous mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I’m not ready for any of this. How am I supposed to go from working in a bookstore to being a waitress in the hottest nightclub in Chicago?

  The four girls sitting on the couch completely fit the image. They’re glamorous, confident, and sexy. I’m well aware that I’m pretty. But these girls were in a whole different league than I was. They were stunning and they owned it.

  Angie breaks me out of my panic by urging, “Come on, L. Sit down.”

  Hillary, the girl with the purple tips, gives me a genuine smile, much unlike Trish’s. “Yes, we don’t bite. We’ll just scratch if you piss us off.”

  I know that she’s joking, but it doesn’t do anything to help my nerves. Nonetheless, I finally feel my feet move so I can sit next to Angie.

  “Happy birthday,” says the girl with long blonde hair. I think her name is Tori, even though I can’t get a read on her yet.

  “Thank you,” I reply as I sit down. I purposely clasp my hands together so I won’t start tugging on my dress again.

  “Birthday shots for everyone,” Hillary excitedly exclaims as she throws her hands up in the air.

  I immediately shake my head and I honestly tell her, “I’m not much of a drinker.” Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Trish snicker behind her hand.

  “You smoke?” Tori asks genuinely.

  “No, not really,” I answer. I have never tried it, and I didn’t plan on it in a place like this.

  “X?” Trish asks, her expression sitting somewhere between bemused and exasperated.

  “She’ll have an Amaretto Sour, and we’ll take the shots for her. How does that sound ladies?” Her tone is enthusiastic, but it was hiding a warning inside of it.

  Thanks for saving me from the firing squad, Angie.

  “She will graduate to much better things. Stick with us and you’ll be able to drink your guy under the table.” Tori winks at me.

  My stomach starts to flip at her words. Angie tosses me a big smile and squeezes my hand. She’s reminding me not to let any of the girls get to me. Don’t run away. She knows me too well. The only thing I want to do at this point is conjure up a pair of tennis shoes and make a break for it.

  It doesn’t take long for the drinks to come. Once they arrive, Angie insists everyone listen to her birthday toast, which they, for the most part, seem uninterested in, but she corrals them in much to my embarrassment.

  “I don’t know where either of us would be if we wouldn’t have met two years ago. Cheers to the best birthday of your life and a new, exciting start. Happy fucking birthday. I love you!”

  “Happy birthday,” everyone chimes before they take their shot. I take a few sips of my drink.

  Hillary tosses her short hair over her shoulder and asks me, “How old are you turning, girly?”

  I answer without a second thought, “Twenty.”

  Angie’s head whips around to face me with an arched brow. “One,” she reminds me.

  “Yes, twenty-one. It always takes me a couple of days to get used to my new age.” I nervously chuckle. I try to ignore Trish, who is eyeing me with intrigue.

  “When’s your birthday?” she suddenly asks. Interested in me and not her drink for the first time since I’ve been here.

  Angie scowls at Trish, obviously unhappy with where this situation is going. “This isn’t twenty-one questions. We’re here to celebrate Lauren’s birthday and her future employment with us. I thought you all would be the perfect welcome wagon since we’ve all been the little fish in a big pond before.”

  My eyes widen at her words. These girls didn’t seem like little fish to me. They were sharks, if anything.

  “You’re right, Angie. We’ve all started wet behind the ears once. I’m from Ohio,” Tori says before she lifts her drink and downs the rest of it. She’s not kidding about drinking guys under the table with the way she’s throwing them back.

  “Trish is from a little town in Kentucky,” Angela quips, and Trish rolls her eyes.

  “I’m from a quaint little city, if you could even call it that, in Michigan,” Hillary adds.

  “Really? So am I,” I told her, relieved. “What part?”

  Before Hillary could answer, Trish jumps back in, “Is this a birthday party or a support group for the boring and sheltered?”

  I’m honestly starting to get fed up with her rude comments. “Excuse me?”

  Trish doesn’t respond. Instead, she gets up from the couch and pulls Tori along with her. They started dancing as if the music is made just for them.

  “Don’t mind Trish. She’s a bitch, it’s just who she is,” Hillary assures me.

  Angie’s annoyance is showing full-force now. She’s leaning against the couch with her arms crossed and a sco
wl on her face, and if her skin wasn’t so deep I’m sure she’d be blushing. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into inviting her,” she says to Hillary.

  A Cheshire grin spreads over Hillary’s face. “Because if she’s here then the drinks are free. You know, since her and Ryan are a thing now.”

  Angie’s eyes bulge out of her head in shock at Hillary’s words. “You’re kidding!”

  Hillary starts to laugh and shakes her head. “You didn’t hear it from me, though!”

  I was glad to know that I wasn’t the only one Trish was a bitch to. Hillary and Angie don’t like her that much either. It’s good to know she isn’t just targeting me.

  A bottle girl approaches our table. “Angie, can you come with me real quick?” The waitress is as glamorous as the rest of the girls that I had met that night. She’s wearing a name tag that says Carly, long dark blonde hair in beautiful curls drape her back.

  Angie gets up and grumbles, “Damn, it’s my day off!” Before she disappears completely, she looks back, her face full of concern. “Are you going to be okay?”

  I hate feeling like a baby, but the truth is I do want Angie to stay with me. But instead I smile and say, “I’ll be fine.” I’m not sure I’m convincing because Hillary senses my nervousness. She slings her arm around my shoulders and says, “Of course she’ll be fine. She’ll be with me, won’t she?”

  My worried eyes watch Angie as she walks out of VIP and disappears.

  Now it’s just me and Hillary sitting on the couch together. If I have to be left alone with any of the three girls that I met today, I’m glad that it’s her. She seems to be the nicest out of all of them.

  “So, what do you think? Are you completely overwhelmed? Ready to run away screaming?” she questions. Her expression is softer now that none of the other girls were around.

  I sigh. “It’s a little more than I expected.” I’m nervous but decide to take a chance and confide in Hillary. Yeah, there’s a chance she can use the information against me, but Angie wouldn’t suggest I move in with someone who isn’t to be trusted. I hope.

  “You’ll get used to it,” she tries to comfort me. “The rules are as follows. One, always stand up for yourself. Two, look better than you feel. Three, never let anyone here pressure or guilt you into doing something that you’re not comfortable with.”

  Wow. I really didn’t expect that.

  I glance at her and give her a sincere smile. “Thank you. That really does help. Do you work here?”

  “No, I used to. I sort of had to resign. It turns out that dating multiple coworkers isn’t the greatest idea. Especially when they start fighting during your shift. It’s not good for business and Ryan wasn’t too happy with me,” she admits.

  She bursts out into laughter after her confession and I join her. So she did have a wild side to her. She adds with a pout, “I really miss the money, though.”

  “So, the money really is that good?” I knew that Angie made good money here. But she’s outgoing, with an amazing personality. It could be that she was making more money than the rest of the girls.

  “The money here is amazing,” she promises me. “You won’t make money like this anywhere else unless you’re swinging around on a pole. Not that I haven’t thought about it once or twice. I think it would actually be an interesting experience.” Hillary slaps my knee at the last part, and both of us dissolve into another fit of laughter. I’m not sure if she’s serious or not, but I laugh anyway.

  Hillary sighs. “Now, I work part time at a boring manufacturing company doing administrative work. I guess I can’t complain. I’m off nights and weekends. Plus I get benefits. I figure that it’ll be good for my resume after graduation.”

  I nod. “That makes sense.”

  “There are also a lot of hot guys at the warehouse.” She winks at me. I guess she still hasn’t added “don’t date coworkers” to her to-do list yet. “Anyways, enough about me. What about you? Ang told me that you draw or something?”

  “Yeah, I do. I’m only minoring in art, majoring in English. I figured it was the safe thing to do,” I told her.

  Hillary nods. “I can understand that. So when do you want to come by and see the place?”

  I have to admit that I’m caught slightly off guard by her question. Angie may have mentioned moving in with Hillary, but I didn’t know she’d be so receptive to it.

  “Well, I would love to see it, but I just need to make sure that I get this job first. There’s no way that I can afford to live off campus with what I make now. How much is the rent?”

  “$1,400,” she says simply. I try not to choke on my drink that I’ve been sipping.

  “I know that sounds expensive, but we’ll be going halfsies. When you get the job, you’ll be able to pay for your half with the tips you get on a good weekend.”

  Being able to pay rent on a nice apartment with a couple night’s work sounds like a dream. I just don’t know if I’m going to be able to handle working in a place like this.

  “We’ll just have to see if I get the job first,” I say with a nervous laugh.

  “Girl, have you looked in a mirror? You’re going to get the job. You just have to speak it into existence.” Funny, she is starting to sound like my auntie.

  “A little secret? Do everything you can to work in VIP. You’re going to have to get it over Trish’s dead body, but I believe in you. So many guys come up here and are dying to flaunt their money. Your tips will double or even triple.”

  I can’t believe that she’s giving me so much information about working here.

  “Oh, also make sure not to become a drunk,” she adds. “Tori is dangerously close to becoming one. Tipsy is cute, being drunk is not. In fact, it’s as far from sexy as you can get.”

  “I’m not a big drinker. Men are as far from my mind as Dubai,” I told her.

  “Well, when you work here, men are going to be everywhere. And they’re going to try and be all over you. Whatever your type is, you’ll be able to find it here. What’s your type?”

  I swallow hard at her question. It definitely catches me off guard. I really don’t think about men anymore. The only guy I’ve been with is Daniel. Hell, he’s the only boy I’ve ever had a crush on—well, aside from Justin when he was in *NSYNC. I really don’t know if I have a type. I guess my type is a man who won’t lie and cheat on me. But it doesn’t matter anyway. My main focus is to get this job and to graduate with good grades.

  I haven’t thought about love or being with someone in a long time. I don’t even know if I believe in love any more. My parents had true love; maybe it died with them. What’s the point if love isn’t involved? It doesn’t matter what Angie or Hillary thinks. I want a better place to live and to start paying off my student loans. Hillary lost this job because of men, and no offense to her, but that’s not going to happen to me.

  “Boys…” I begin, trailing off. I really don’t know where I want to take this statement. Hillary interrupts me before I could get back on track.

  “Not boys,” she corrects. “Men. There’s a big difference.”

  I wave my hand in her direction. “Men, whatever. The point is that I’m not focused on any of them right now. I don’t even have a type.”

  Hillary laughs as if that was the funniest thing that she’s ever heard in her life, “Are you kidding? Who doesn’t have a type?”

  I guess it’s an odd answer. I’m twenty-years-old. I should know what my type is. Why was I attracted to Daniel in the first place? At first, it was his kindness. Raven had always told me that kindness was important in a man. That’s what attracted me to him, I think. Sure he was tall, had great hair, and a killer smile, but it was our history.

  While I try to think, Hillary reaches for a pitcher. It’s filled with a bright pink liquid. She pours a glass and offers it to me. I look at it cautiously.

  Hillary gives me a smile. “It’s way better than an Amaretto Sour, trust me.”

  I reluctantly take the glass and
sip it. It’s sweet and I don’t even taste any alcohol. I take a bigger sip than the first time.

  “Slow down there, girl. It’s not Kool-Aid,” she laughs. I give her a sheepish smile. “Tell me more about the guys you’ve dated.”

  “Guy,” I correct her. “There’s only been one,” I admit to Hillary reluctantly, but I’m not going to lie. It shouldn’t be anything to be embarrassed about, but for some reason I am. When her mouth falls open in shock, my cheeks burn. I guess I was wrong.

  I sigh. “It was a bad breakup and I kind of swore off men for a while.”

  “So, let me get this straight, you’ve only been with one guy?” she asks in awe.

  I’m starting to feel like an exotic animal at the zoo, and I look away shyly. “Kind of,” I say quickly.

  “When was the last time you had sex? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  Somehow, I suddenly don’t feel as awkward answering her questions. “A little over two years ago.”

  “Get the hell out,” Hillary exclaims, playfully slapping me on the shoulder.

  I giggle. “It was only once too!”

  “Wait. You’re telling me that you’ve only had sex once? Like in your entire life?” she questions in disbelief.

  “Well, I didn’t plan on it to only be once. But that’s what happened.”

  “You’re shitting me. You’re almost like a virgin.”

  I shake my head. “I’m definitely not a virgin.” It may not have lasted long, but I know it was official.

  “I’m not saying that you are. Just that you basically are. Wow, you’re like the last of a generation,” she gasps.

  I frown slightly at her. I don’t mind sharing information, but I don’t want it shoved back into my face.

  She leans over and gives me a little hug. “Oh, no offense, hun. I think it’s actually kind of awesome. Well, except for all of the good sex you are missing out on.” I giggle and hiccup, and she laughs right along with me.

  Hillary and I fill the rest of the time with conversation. We’re getting to know each other and becoming fast friends. I hope that I get the job so I could get the chance to live with her! She’s so much better than whatsherface.