Chapter Thirteen
“I just don’t get it,” I said, trying to choke back tears. “Norma, you should have seen me. I danced hard. I danced like a girl who has danced her whole life. Twice! Twice last night. The second time I even put those shiny stickers on my boobs and made sure I really shook them. The place was almost full, too!”
Norma chuckled. My jaw dropped open and I was about to remind her my plight was not funny. This wasn’t a comic strip or a movie. This was my future. My chance to get out of this small town and keep moving on with my life. I ran from a small town and my goal was not to get stuck in an even smaller town where I had no possessions and the only thing I could do with my life was to swing around a pole for pennies.
“Oh, sugar, things can’t be that bad. How much did you make?” she asked with a smile, leaning on the linoleum countertop.
“$17.50,” I choked.
“In two dances? Or did you make that for each dance?”
“No, both dances combined! I sure felt like they were putting more money out. The club was full, too.”
“Was that after you paid out Jeremy?”
“After I WHAT?” I coughed. “After I paid him out? Why would I need to pay them out?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she started, standing back from the counter. “You’re supposed to pay him a stage fee and a music fee each night. Jeremy takes 15% and if he brings in a DJ, the DJ takes 20%. Any club will charge you some kind of fee.”
“You have to be shitting me. There’s no way! What would he want with $3.50? You can’t even buy a pack of cigarettes for that.”
Norma shrugged and turned to put the coffee pot back on the warmer. She wrung her hands into her apron, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling as her cheek twitched. “Well, I suppose on the bright side, if there is one, you could be out of here within 50ish days. Not too bad. Things could be worse, yeah?”
Fifty days. I may have to stay here fifty days.
“Norma,” I said holding my breath, “I can’t possibly stay here fifty days. I’m sorry. I can’t do it. I would rather take what I have and just start walking. I didn’t…I didn’t get in that car out there to get stuck here,” I cried. I didn’t just cry out loud in frustration, a well of tears burst forth from behind my eyes, tipping heavy tears down my face on to the aged diner counter. “This journey wasn’t supposed to end like this. I was supposed to make my way to a beach. I was supposed to find somewhere I could find a job. I didn’t need a good job, but just a job to get started. I could have been a cashier, I would have even cleaned tables in a restaurant somewhere. Like, a real restaurant.”
“Hey now,” she interrupted, “this is a real restaurant.”
“I know, Norma. I know. It is, but you don’t have any jobs for me, so your job doesn’t do me any good.” I paused. “Wait, you don’t have any jobs for me, do you? I mean, I know you said you didn’t, but I’ll do anything. I’ll clean tables. I’ll clean the bathroom. I’ll sweep the parking lot for crying out loud. Anything. Please, Norma. I can’t go back there for a few dollars. And this was after two dances with a packed house,” I sobbed, picking up the dollar bills and watching them fall back to the counter. “Imagine how bad my return will be in a few days when I’m no longer a new attraction! And, I don’t even have any clothes now!” The tears were really flowing. I must have looked pathetic.
“Well, why don’t you take Chrome up on his offer?” she started, her tone soft and motherly. “He said he’d take you out west as far as he could. The west would be a start, at least. You’d be a little bit closer to a beach.”
“Norma, think about it. Wherever he drops me off, I’m going to have to stay. Even with the little bit of money I have, I’m not going to be able to get much further. I can’t just show up to some town without a dime to my name and expect everything to fall into place. I should have gone with him back east. I should have just ran back home to my drunk mom and my lying dad and that damn tornado food trailer.”
“Oh, now don’t say that. I don’t think you should go back. You should definitely keep going forward,” she paused. “I have an idea. Why don’t you call them? They can wire you money. You can go pick up whatever they send at WorldMart. I can drive you tomorrow. If you don’t make a mess, I’ll let you sleep in that back booth for the night — but just one night. I can’t have you make it a habit or else every Tom, Dick, and Harry who comes through here will want to do the same.”
I thought about this for a few moments, taking short sips of my strawberry milkshake. I couldn’t take deep sips — I had started crying so hard that what little bits of snot weren’t running down my face were coagulating in my nostrils and making it impossible to breath.
Would my parents actually send me money? Did they even have any money to send? Surely they had to have something tucked away. Now that I thought about it, they should have money tucked away. We barely spent money on groceries, and what we did spend was on one of those new fangled food stamp cards. Sure, they spent money on alcohol, but they didn’t spend money on clothes or necessities for any of us. They didn’t own a car, just a moped. Gas was never an issue; neither was rent. Norma was right. I bet they would be happy to hear from me and I bet they would send me something. Even if they could only send $200, this would be a huge help.
“I’ll try. I’ll try anything. Can I borrow your phone?” I barely had to ask before the cream and brown oversized cordless phone was set down on the countertop.
“Make sure to pull the antennae up. This isn’t one of those new phones with good reception. It’s almost older than you are,” Norma joked. I took her advice, pulled on the silver knob and sat in amazement when the metal rod continuously telescoped out of the hole until it was almost longer than my arm. “Why don’t you go take that booth over there and have some privacy? I have a feeling this will be an intense conversation.”
“Hello?” Mom answered the phone.
I took a deep sigh of relief. They were home and they were sober. “Hi, it’s me,” I replied.
“Hello, Me. I hope you’re having a good day. Can you tell me who ‘Me’ is?”
“You don’t recognize my voice?” I asked, astonished.
“If I recognized your voice, I wouldn’t have asked who I was talking to. Duh. Well, at least you aren’t a bill collector. So, you have ten seconds before I hang up to tell me who this is.”
“Mom, it’s me. It’s Blossom,” I said.
“Blossom? My Blossom?” she quizzed.
“Of course, your Blossom.”
“Oh, well, this is shocking. I didn’t expect to hear from you again with the way you just packed up your ungrateful ass and pulled out of here like you were some queen who was better than me and your father.”
“Well, it is nice to talk to you as well. In case you were wondering, I am still alive. I haven’t been drugged, raped, and murdered yet and I’m currently somewhere in Kansas.”
“What do you want Blossom?” I could hear my uncle, or my dad, or whatever he was, in the background making comments. My mom shushed him with a giggle.
“I have a problem, Mom. My car broke down and I’m stuck in a small town that only has a diner and a strip club.”
She interrupted me before I could say anything else. “Let me guess. You want money. You pull out of here like a spoiled brat. You took my suitcases and the laundry money, and now you’re calling me for money?”
“Mom,” I started, slightly taken aback, “the suitcases barely shut and most are missing handles. And that money I took was my piggy bank, not the laundry money.”
“What do you think I use to pay at the laundry mat? Do you think I’m going to use my money? Get real, Blossom. You kids dirty your clothes and expect me to pay to clean them? So typical of both of you. I really raised you wrong.”
“You
’ve been using my piggy bank to do the laundry?” This made sense. I thought I would have more money than I ended up counting out. If she hadn’t stolen my money, I could have fixed my car and made it to California, no problem. “You know what? I’m not surprised. But that’s beside the point. Mom, I need some help.”
“Besides the point? You’re going to talk down to me and then tell me you need something? What do you need? Let me guess, money. How much do you need?”
“$500. Well, I need $500 but if you can even send me $200, that would be a huge help.”
A deep laugh came through the receiver. I gave a deep sigh, sinking into the booth and using my free arm to prop my head up as tears fell to the tabletop. “Blossom, you have to be joking. You left us. We don’t owe you anything. You decided you wanted to be an adult when you drove out of that driveway. This is all on you. Looks like you better get to that strip club and start working.” She kept laughing, a surprising prideful laugh soaking with the deep satisfaction of telling me I was not only on me own, but no longer a part of the family.
“Wow. You would rather I stripped than send me a little bit of money. You are Mom of the Year,” I yelled.
“There she is, my Blossom. So patronizing and so much better than I am. You know what Blossom? Go to hell. You left us. And I don’t care about your snarky little Mom of the Year award. I’m not your mom anymore. Don’t call back here.”
The receiver went dead and I only set the oversized plastic box down after the beeping started to let me know the line was being held up. I hit the red button to close the line, pushed the antennae back in its hole, and laid the phone on the table in unison with my head. I closed my eyes and quietly cried myself to sleep.
I felt my body shaking heavily, ripping me out of my tearful slumber. I groaned and half-heartedly swatted the air, finally smacking something hard and solid.
“Ouch,” a deep voice said. “Stop hitting me and get your ass up.”
I opened one swollen eye with lashes full of the sticky goop that accumulates in the corner after a good cry. I grunted in disappointment when I saw Jeremy’s face staring back at me.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“It’s 4:30 and we are opening early again tonight. I need you to get yourself together and get backstage. I don’t even need you to do it now, I needed you to do it twenty minutes ago.”
“I’m not dancing tonight, Jeremy. I am not going through that for only $17.”
“What are you talking about?” he scoffed. “I saw tenners go out at least three times last night. Those men ate you up. If you think you’re going to short change me on your stage fees you are about to have a rude awakening.”
“What am I talking about? What are you talking about? I put my money in my purse after my first dance. I waited for my next turn. I put that round in my purse as well and I busted out of there.”
“Yeah, I know, and you didn’t pay me, either, so you need to cough up your stage fee and give money to Rob for playing DJ.” He paused and looked at me with a smirk on his face. “Did you put your purse in a locker?”
“A locker? How the hell am I going to put my purse in a locker? You didn’t give me a code to a lock.”
“You’re right, I didn’t. Well, that solves that question. Sweetheart. Those three girls hate you. You’ve got to put your purse away tonight.”
“Are you going to give me a lock?”
He laughed. “No. I don’t have the code to any of those. I don’t even know what’s in the lockers. Looks like you need to figure it out. Now get yourself together and get in that back room.”
I dropped my head in to my hands and sat there shaking. Is this what it feels to have a pimp? I felt like I didn’t even own myself anymore. I felt like Jeremy owned my time, my money, and my body. I felt disgusting. I thought I knew what being on the bottom of the totem pole felt like, but I was being shown a whole knew rung buried deep under the ground. I wanted to tell Jeremy I wouldn’t dance. I wanted to tell him where he could stick his self-proclaimed ownership of my body.
In the last week, I learned more about myself than I ever would have believed possible. I found strength inside of my neglected body and discovered I had a feisty spirit. I realized I had self worth and I was capable of achieving something great in my life. When I got to wherever I was heading, I would enroll in college, get a degree, and make my life into something I owned. Something my mom, my dad, or anyone else couldn’t take away. I, Blossom Springtime Weatherby Franklin, was going to do great things.
“Okay, Jeremy. I’ll dance for you tonight. Give me just a few more minutes to get myself together, okay? I’ve had a rough day,” I whispered.
“I don’t give a shit about your rough day, little girl. We all have them and none of us need a few extra minutes. We aren’t spoiled little princesses in this town. We get our acts together and do what we have to do. And, I expect you to do the same. If you aren’t over there in five minutes, not only will you not get in the door, you won’t be dancing again.”
His threat didn’t scare me, but I needed to get in those doors. I wasn’t going to be dancing tonight but I had some unfinished business to settle with one of those women.
I walked into the dressing room with my head held high. The air was thick and the small cell felt like the four concrete walls were filled with water. I silently struggled to breathe. Candy and Fudge quieted immediately upon my arrival and I helped myself to the cracked leather wingback chair with three and a half legs in the corner. This was Jersey’s seat, and I knew my action would piss her off.
She sat stiffly on a rusted stool, in front of the aged, tobacco stained countertop precariously perched over two metal stools, normally used as our makeup counter. She eyed me intensely, lowering her eyes but refusing to say a word. We both knew the first one to speak would lose this battle. I knew Jersey’s pride would be her downfall tonight. She possessed a strong need to show me who was boss. First, she’d need to steal back the broken-down throne made for a broken-down queen. I’d let her have the jewel of her tarnished life eventually. And when I did, I’d succeed in making her drop her guard before she realized it was down.
Jersey finished her makeup. We were currently eleven minutes in to our stand off. Candy and Fudge flittered about the room nervously, smoothing their outfits, tousling their hair, reapplying makeup, and doing levels of prep they never did any other night. I was going to be as careful as possible to not drag them in between Jersey and me — no one wanted to be the bait dog in a dogfight. They already subconsciously decided I was the poor little puppy, but they were about to learn just how much much fight I had in me. I wouldn’t be going down to these three cowards. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever.
“Move,” she finally said, breaking the silence.
“No,” I said. My defiance rang through the room.
We went back and forth for two more minutes. I watched the clock over the top of her teased and feathered hair. The time was four hours off, but the hands still worked, likely due to dying once upon a time in a business surrounded by people too lazy to properly reset the time after replacing the batteries. She glared harder with each demand she made. I waited for the glare to turn to questioning her strength, and when I saw the slightest flicker of doubt in her devilish eyes, I let her tell me to move one more time. As soon as that word left her mouth, I conceded and strolled to the other side of the room with my head down. I passed closely and caught a slight breath of relief breach her sealed lips. She would believe her pride was intact. I knew in that moment her pride and her security were firmly squeezed within my balled up fist.
I settled on a steel stool on the other side of the room. Unfortunately, the dressing room is only about seven and a half feet wide, and the distance would never be enough. She stared at me and I purposely averted my eyes. I wanted to keep building her
up. I wanted her to feel strong, to feel like a bully, and to feel in control.
“I can’t believe you came back. I mean, if I only made what you did last night, I probably would have started walking. You’ll never get your car fixed now.”
“Jersey, how would you know what I made last night if I didn’t even know until this morning?” I questioned.
She fell silent for a few moments, her face twisted in thought. I saw anger flash back through her eyes and knew I was still in the clear. I needed to be more careful with my words or else I would get myself in trouble. To lose control would lose everything.
“What are you saying, little girl? Are you calling me a thief?”
“No. Do I have reason to call you a thief? As far as I’m concerned, unless you took the money out of my panties or from my hand, there’s no way you could have taken it. But, for all you know, I made $100 last night. And, in a few more days, I will be out of here because I will have made enough to fix my car and say a big, happy, resounding, ‘Fuck off,’ to this shit hole of a town.”
“Hey now,” Fudge said sheepishly. “This is our home, Blossom. We, well, Candy and I, we like you. We haven’t done anything. Please don’t insult the only thing we have. You can leave. It’s too late for us.”
“Sorry Fudge. You’re right,” I apologized. Jersey sat in the corner, in that broken-down leather chair embodying the spirit of this town and smirked. Her eyes glistened, her lips were pulled back in a tight sneer, and her hands were tightly clasped. I was back in control. She thought she was in the clear.
The Wrong Side of Twenty-Five Page 13