STRONGER (Runaway)

by Lexie Ray

  “Sorry I slept in your shirt,” I said, tying the robe closed and sitting at the table. “I’ll get it washed and ironed for you.”

  Cocoa smiled and shook her head. “You should’ve just gotten a T-shirt out of my drawer or something,” she said. “I’ll give you a top and some jeans to wear out shopping today.”

  She left the room and I was able to tear into the breakfast. The tray was positively loaded down with food—a pair of waffles, scrambled eggs, fruit salad, and four pieces of bacon. Breakfast hadn’t been in my vocabulary for a long time.

  Cocoa came in just as I was polishing off the final bites.

  “I just left!” she exclaimed, laughing. “What happened to all your food? Did someone come in here and steal it?”

  I giggled. “I’m so embarrassed,” I admitted, covering my eyes. “This food is amazing. I have zero restraint.”

  “Well, it did look awfully good,” Cocoa said. She sipped a mug of tea, the tag of the bag hanging down over the side.

  “How was work last night?” I asked, curious. “I think I’m going to start today. Mama said I was going to find out about everything tonight.”

  Cocoa raised an eyebrow. “Everything? I doubt that.”

  I drew my eyebrows in, confused. “She said I was going to work here.”

  My roommate’s face softened. “Of course you’re going to work here,” she soothed. “It’s just that … this place is kinda complicated. I don’t know if I can explain.”

  “Will you try?”

  Cocoa sighed and shook her head. “I’ve upset you,” she said, “and you need to be getting ready for your big day with Mama. She really seems to like you, you know. She’s not like that with everyone.”

  “She’s very kind,” I said, trying to hide my frustration with Cocoa. How could she lead me on, implying that something that was wrong with the nightclub without telling me what it was?

  Cocoa pulled some clothes out of her dresser and handed them to me.

  “I bet a shower will make you feel nice,” she said.

  The idea of another shower made me forget all about finding out what Cocoa had been talking about. Another shower sounded downright decadent.

  I grabbed the bucket of toiletries and raced across the hall to the bathroom.

  The place was empty. I kind of expected some of the girls to be up, but it was as quiet as a tomb. I enjoyed my shower in peace, massaging my scalp until it tingled. The cigarette burn scars dotting my body were fading with each day that passed. I looked forward to the day when my skin would be completely unblemished, but part of me knew I’d bear these marks for the rest of my life.

  After I got dressed and toweled my hair until it was damp, I crossed back into Cocoa’s room.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  “It’s early, Jazz,” Cocoa answered, punctuating her response with a wide yawn. “The nightclub doesn’t close until 4 in the morning, and then we clean up. It’s normal to stay up until 6 a.m. or later.”

  My eyes nearly popped out of my head. “That’s late!”

  My roommate nodded in agreement. “And that means most of us don’t wake up until 2 or 3 in the afternoon,” she told me. “At 6, we start getting things ready to open again. The nightclub opens at 8.”

  I absorbed all this information as I combed my hair. It sounded like it was easy to get completely consumed by work here. I imagined many girls would go to bed late and wake up late, only having time to get themselves and the club cleaned up each day.

  “You ready to go?” Cocoa asked. She shrugged on a silky kimono over her camisole and shorts. “I’ll take you downstairs to Mama. She’ll probably be in the office.”

  We tiptoed past closed doors in the hallway and down the stairs. The nightclub looked out of place when illuminated by sunlight trying to work its way through the tinted windows.

  I hadn’t heard any of the music or activity down here during my sleep last night. I must have been out cold.

  “The office is right through that door,” Cocoa said, pointing to the right of the kitchen. “I’m going to go back upstairs and try to take a little nap. I’ll see you later.”

  “See you,” I echoed.

  I walked over to the office and knocked gently. There were sounds of rustling and movement, but no call to enter. I waited a few moments before pushing the door open.

  Mama was kneeling in front of an open safe, placing a few stacks of money next to many, many stacks of money. The inside of that safe looked like what I imagined the inside of a bank looked like. How much money could be in there?

  “Jesus save me!” Mama exclaimed, making me jump. “You nearly scared me to death, Jazz!”

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted out as she snapped the safe shut and spun the dial. “I knocked but no one answered.”

  “I’m a little deaf, sweetie,” Mama said, pointing at her ears. “I blame it on my career in entertainment. You got to practically beat that door down for me to hear it.”

  “Okay.”

  Mama was dressed a little more low key than last night, but she still looked very fine. The high waist on her trousers and the way her satin blouse was tucked into them accentuated her impressive curves. She looked like all kinds of woman—more than most men could handle, I’d bet.

  “You ready to do a little shopping?” Mama asked, rubbing her hands together. I realized shopping was probably one of her favorite things.

  “I sure am,” I said, smiling.

  When we came back, I had a manicure, a new haircut, two pairs of jeans, no less than ten shirts, a new coat, my own toiletries, and two work uniforms.

  “Now, it’s up to you to keep these clean,” Mama said as we re-entered the nightclub. “I like for all my girls to look sharp when they’re working—even when they’re not. Remember that you represent my nightclub, my place of business. And you look especially sharp in clothes your own size.”

  Standing in front of the dressing room mirror, Mama had hooted and hollered when she got me to open a couple of buttons of the uniform blouse. It had also helped that I was wearing a brand new bra.

  “Let’s put your things in the office for now,” Mama said. “You can take them up later, after I’ve shown you around and talked about work.”

  I was excited to show Cocoa my purchases and even more eager to return all of her clothes to her. I felt like my new possessions made me belong here. Mama had bought them and given me a place to live. I’d do anything for her now.

  She almost felt like family—that idea that had eluded me for so long.

  “You know the kitchen, of course,” Mama said, pushing open the swinging door. “When customers ask for food, you write it down on your pad and stick it here for the cooks.”

  She pointed at an expanse of stainless steel with a special groove to hold the papers.

  “Come back in here and check on the orders as often as you can,” Mama continued. “If another girl’s orders are up, take them to her table. Everyone helps everyone.”

  “Everyone helps everyone,” I repeated. I liked that.

  “Now, when you’re not working, this kitchen is yours to use,” Mama said. “Don’t interfere with the chefs and don’t eat the restaurant food. There’s plenty of food for everyone in the other fridge.”

  I remembered this from earlier and nodded.

  “Everyone sort of trickles down here when they want and fixes their meals, but some girls like to cook and eat together,” she explained. Mama opened the refrigerator door and my eyes feasted upon all the stacks of cheese, lunchmeat, veggies, fruits, and more. It was everything I could imagine.

  “If you want to keep something of your own, I’d recommend getting a mini fridge,” she said. “I think Cocoa may have one. You can always put your name on something and stick it in here, but don’t be surprised if it goes missing.”

  What would be the first food item I would buy? Ice cream, I decided swiftly, then pizza. Those were what I wanted the most, and in that order.

&nbs
p; “You’re going to be working as both a waitress and part of the service crew,” Mama said. “Most everyone here does the same thing. Sometimes girls pull hostess duties, but I usually take care of that myself. Adds a personal touch. Waitress means you wait on the customers and bring them everything they want. Service crew means you clean up after them and prepare before them.”

  I thought of entering the nightclub last night and seeing all the girls preparing the tables. That would be me tonight—and hopefully for many nights to come.

  “As for pay,” Mama began, “it all depends on you. The time you work, the time you’re out in the club cleaning or waiting or bussing, that belongs to me. That’s your room and board.”

  I nodded. That sounded reasonable.

  “The tips, on the other hand, we split. At the end of every night, you’ll give me 10 percent of what you earned tip-wise. That’s for operating costs.”

  Ten percent wasn’t bad, I mused silently. I bet I could make some real money with tips if I turned on the charm. I was already starting to believe Mama and Cocoa when they told me I was a beauty.

  “What do the girls spend their money on?” I wondered aloud.

  Mama shrugged, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge and handing it to me. The perpetual readiness of food and water was still a little foreign to me.

  “The normal things, I guess,” she answered. “Clothes, makeup, shoes, treats, decorations for their rooms, magazines, anything, really.”

  “And how many days do I work?”

  “That’s also up to you,” Mama said. “Everything’s up to you. I’d like to see you out there at least five days—like a normal workweek. But the more hours you’re out on the floor, the more chance you have at making money. Especially if you get in good with one of our regular customers, one of the real good tippers, it’s hard to take off time. If they request you, you have to work. Many girls flat don’t take days off. They love making money.”

  I thought about this. I’d never had a real job. This would be my first. If I was having fun and making money—and repaying Mama for her kindness—I didn’t see a problem with working seven days a week. I decided to see how it would go.

  “So is that everything?” I asked, thinking suddenly about my earlier exchange with Cocoa. My roommate had said that Mama wouldn’t tell me everything about the business, but what would Mama hide from me?

  “Everything?” Mama said, putting her hands on her hips and staring up at the ceiling. “Well, yes, I suppose that’s it. Just ask Cocoa or any of the other girls if you have questions.”

  Maybe I would ask Cocoa if I’d heard “everything.”

  “Bless me, is that the time?” Mama said, staring at her watch in shock. I looked at the wall clock, which read nearly 6 p.m. “I was having such a wonderful time with you, Jazz, that I forgot about business tonight.” She winked. “Not many people can do that.”

  “I’d better get ready, too,” I said, eager to start my first day of work. I was excited about the idea of making money. Money of my own. I didn’t know what I would spend it on, yet, but I wanted it.

  I retrieved my bags of new things from the office and ran them upstairs, aware that many of the girls were already sprucing up the nightclub for the night. I burst into Cocoa’s room, puffing with my rushing and the weight of all my purchases.

  “Oh, no!” Cocoa said, looking at me in the mirror as she applied her makeup. “I was hoping you all would get back earlier so we could to a fashion show!”

  I laughed, pulling the uniform out of its bag and shimmying into it. “I feel like I’ve been putting on a fashion show all day with Mama,” I said. “It’s my first day of work tonight.”

  “Congratulations,” Cocoa said warmly, sweeping her lashes with mascara.

  I waited for her to add anything as I brushed out my new hairstyle—modern-looking angled layers and razor-cut bangs—but my roommate just continued to get ready.

  “Mama told me all about the business,” I tried, “about what I would do.”

  “That’s good,” Cocoa murmured. “You’ll do a good job.”

  I was getting a little frustrated as I pulled out my own new set of makeup.

  “Cocoa, what were you talking about earlier today?” I asked bluntly, turning away from the mirror to look at her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When you said that Mama wouldn’t tell me ‘everything’ about working here.”

  I put my hands on my hips and resolved not to move until I got an answer that satisfied me.

  Cocoa sighed and turned around after a few long seconds. “I’m sorry I said that earlier,” she said. “It only confused you and made you question this place. I should be letting you make your own judgments about working here.”

  This response only confused me more. “Is something wrong here?” I asked.

  Cocoa bit her full lower lip before smiling and turning back around toward her mirror. She rubbed a vibrant shade of red over her lips and smacked them.

  “How about you work your first night and do the best that you can,” Cocoa said, applying the same red lipstick on my lips. “If you have any other questions about anything—and I mean anything—I’ll answer them when we’re back in this room.”

  That comforted me a little, but my curiosity still burned.

  I turned back to my mirror and stared. The red lipstick made me look like a grown woman. Working quickly, I put on some eye shadow and liner before enhancing everything with mascara. Slipping into the nonslip black shoes Mama had purchased for me, I followed Cocoa out the door.

  A few other stragglers joined us in the hallway, hurrying.

  “Have you girls met Jazz?” Cocoa asked, smiling at me.

  “Welcome to the club, baby,” a blonde said, grinning. “Nice lipstick.”

  Once downstairs, Cocoa showed me the supply closet in the kitchen. It contained everything we needed to set up—silverware rolled in napkins, chargers, candles, everything. The cleaning supplies were in another closet—brooms, mops, dustpans, a vacuum, and all manner of rags and buckets and bottles of product.

  “Just follow me around tonight,” Cocoa said. “You’ll be my shadow. Watch what I do, smile pretty, and we’ll split tips.”

  Tips. The thought of money made me smile.

  “There’s that pretty smile,” Cocoa remarked.

  We dusted the paintings until the frames gleamed, aware of the line of people that was already building outside. My roommate explained that opening and closing operation duties changed each day. The schedule was always posted in the lounge. Tonight, we were dusting. She had me hop up in those sumptuous booths and make sure there wasn’t a speck of the stuff at the tops.

  “Five minute warning,” someone called.

  I craned my neck around, dust rag still in my hand, to see Mama on the stage. She looked amazing—a floor-length mermaid skirt and strapless top that glittered every time she caught the light. Her breasts looked incredible. I had to smile, remembering suddenly that she’d gotten herself a new pushup bra while we were shopping this afternoon.

  After Mama’s announcement, there was a flurry of excitement. Girls dashed to the supply closets, putting away extra napkins and chargers. Cocoa grabbed me by the hand and ran to the laundry room. We dumped our rags into a hamper labeled “restaurant.”

  “This is where you do your laundry, too,” my roommate said before hauling me back out to the floor. “Let me look at you.”

  Cocoa turned a critical eye to my appearance and I straightened, wanting to make a good impression. Frowning, she unbuttoned one more button on my blouse, even though I’d already opened it down to where Mama had been so pleased with me when we were shopping earlier today. Satisfied with the results, Cocoa tousled my neat hair a bit and reapplied the lipstick, which she kept in her blouse pocket.

  “Let me see that smile,” she said, her eyes shining.

  I smiled.

  “Thattagirl,” Cocoa said, grinning. “You’re going to be great.�
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  Nervous butterflies fluttered in my stomach.

  “Showtime!” Mama hollered.

  The bouncers opened the door and the girls lined up, taking customers and their parties to a table in their section. Mama was at the head of the line, personally greeting each person who walked in—many of them by name.

  “Every girl takes charge of a number of customers,” Cocoa explained as we queued up. “She gives them a personal experience and makes sure they have everything they need. We’re each assigned sections of the club by groups. This is also posted in the lounge.”

  Swanky lounge music played over the speakers. I looked over at the stage, but the curtains were closed.

  “Do you always have live music?” I asked. “Last night, there was a band.”

  “We have it most nights,” Cocoa answered. “Wait till you see tonight. You’re in for a real treat.”

  I thought my stomach was going to drop out of my body as we got to the front of the line.

  “Don Costa, it has been too long, honey,” Mama said, pouring on the sugar for one of the customers entering the door. A bouncer moved forward for a pat down, but Mama shook her head at him.

  “You know how it is when business gets too good,” Don Costa said, bringing Mama’s bejeweled hand up to his mouth and kissing it gallantly.

  “No time to have fun,” Mama finished, giggling and turning away coquettishly.

  Don? Was that a mob thing or his real first name? I turned to see how Cocoa was behaving, but she looked straight ahead, smiling. I swiveled my head back to the front and pasted on my smile, too.

  Don Costa was tall, perhaps in his mid-40s. His hair was black overall, but the color faded to silver at his temples. He was attractive for his age, but I bet he’d really been good looking when he was young. Three men accompanied him. Two looked to be about in their 50s, but the third was much younger. He looked so similar to Don Costa that I was sure I was looking at his son. Gorgeous.

  Mama glanced back at Cocoa and me. “What a treat!” she exclaimed. “I just got a new girl yesterday. Cocoa’s training her, so you get the company of two beauties tonight.”