“Consider it done,” I tell him before hanging up the phone.
I light a cigarette and think about everything that’s about to go down over the next day or so. I consider all the different way things could go wrong, and everything I may need to get the job done. I know I have enough ammo and weapons, and my tools go with me everywhere, so I’m good there. As far as clothes go, I don’t need much, but if things take longer than planned, I can always pick up a few new shirts. I know Bear will wire me some cash, so no worries there either.
After I know everything is good to go, I flick my cigarette off to the side and hit the road once more. It won’t be long until I’ll be leaving Illinois and riding straight through to Texas. It’ll be a long ride, but one I’m looking forward to.
Chapter Five
Angel
Almost a whole month has passed since I traded in my old, boring life. The one my parents controlled every aspect of. My life now is new and exciting, full of smiles and life. Sure, it’s not what every eighteen-year-old girl dreams of, and it sure as heck wasn’t my initial dream, but I’m loving it nonetheless.
When I got to the bus station, I laid all the money on the counter in front of the old ticket lady. I was able to get a few thousand dollars out of the ATM from my parents’ cards, but I had to put most of that away to pay for a place to live, food, and anything else I would need, so I could only spare a little for a bus ticket.
I’d asked her how far I could get with the few hundred I had, which surprisingly got me all the way to Reno, Nevada. It was always a place I wanted to visit but never thought I would.
I’m not the same girl I was a month ago; a lot has changed. Things I never thought possible are now within my reach and I’m finally happy, especially with my parents out of my life. They can go fly a kite for all I care.
Sure, not everything is unicorns and rainbows, but I still wake up every day with a smile on my face, ready to take on what the day will bring. The possibilities are endless.
When I stepped off the bus and into my new life, I didn’t waste any time. I went to the nearest diner and sat for hours, looking through the local paper. I needed a job and a place to live. Those were my priorities. Of course, I still want to go to college and pursue my dream of dancing, but I wasn’t naïve enough to think that was going to happen anytime soon, and I’m okay with that. I have my whole life ahead of me. Surely I can wait a few years to go to college.
The waitress at the diner, Amy, was really nice, and even helped me find the apartment I now call home. She was a few years older than me, and had been living in Reno for a few years. Living only a few blocks away, she told me about the unit right next door to hers that just became available.
I waited until she was off work, then she took me to talk to the landlord, who was an elderly lady who owned the building. She showed me the vacant one bedroom apartment. I filled out the paperwork and paid a few months in advance. I figured I better pay extra up front so I didn’t have to worry about it while I looked for a job.
Since I didn’t have much as far as furniture went, Amy took me to a thrift shop that was only a few blocks away from the apartment building. There, I found a bed, dresser, and love seat for under a hundred dollars.
Next, we went to the local Walmart, where I bought new bedding, kitchen and bath supplies, and food to get me through the week.
Amy also gave me a few things she didn’t use anymore, like a small coffee table, a beanbag chair, and a few small knickknacks to make my place feel more homey.
It wasn’t much, but after I put everything together, I was very pleased with the way my little haven was turning out. Even if it was mostly second-hand things that surrounded me, it felt more like a home than anything ever had before. Not bad for the first few days on my own.
The third night I was in Reno, Amy came over because it was her night off. She wanted to take me out on the town. As much as I wanted to go, I was a little hesitant. I didn’t really have money to be throwing away on mindless things, and I wasn’t old enough to get in anywhere anyway. But she insisted, telling me it would be fun. She also said not to worry about only being eighteen, that most of the bars she went to didn’t care as long as you didn’t cause trouble.
That was a little unnerving to hear, but I went with it. It wasn’t like I’d be drinking anyway. I was just going to get out and have some fun for the first time ever in my life. It would probably be my one and only chance to go out before I’d have to buckle down and really start looking for a job, and once that happened, who knew when I’d have the time to do anything fun again.
I went, and I didn’t regret it, not one bit. It brought me to where I am now: a job I love, more friends than I’ve ever had in my life, and more money than I thought was possible. At the rate I’m making money, I should be able to go to college in under a year, if that’s what I choose to do. But to be honest, I’m not even thinking about college right now. I’m having way too much fun, and really like what I’m doing. Even if it’s something others would frown upon.
I’m a dancer at Bottoms Up. It’s a gentleman’s club, but it’s not what most would think. Yes, what I do is technically called stripping, but that’s not all it is. I don’t even strip all the way down to the nude. It’s more dancing than it is taking your clothes off. It’s about telling a story with your body, expressing what your feeling, or how the song makes your body move.
I’ve always loved dancing, and the dance school that I went to from the age of eight, up until I was eighteen, taught me a wide range of dances. At first, I only focused on the ballet lessons because that was what my parents wanted. But after the first month, I started to really get into the other lessons and decided I liked them way more than ballet. Thankfully, my parents didn’t care about the other lessons, since the only recitals that were put on for the community were that of ballet, so it wasn’t like people would see me dancing sinfully—their words, not mine.
They didn’t come to most of my dance lessons. They hated taking time out of their busy lives for such things. They just liked the fact that I was out of their hair for a few hours each day.
When Amy and I went out, we first stopped to grab a small bite to eat at the diner she worked at. Although she was there most days, she said it was the best food within walking distance, which was great because she was the only one with a car, and she didn’t like driving when she went out at night. Actually, she didn’t like driving anywhere with her car, only using it when she absolutely had no other choice.
After we ate, we walked around. She pointed out little shops and places that I should visit, and talked about a few restaurants I could apply at when we passed the club.
There were only a few lights on outside, but I could hear the music from the opposite side of the street. I’d stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared. Amy didn’t notice at first, but when she was a few paces ahead of me, she finally stopped too.
She told me it was the local strip joint, and that she’d never been inside. She’d heard that it was owned by some local gang or something. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I honestly didn’t care if the mob owned it. I was intrigued.
I’d asked her if we could go in. She was hesitant, but she finally conceded. I just wanted to listen to the music and see what it was all about. I’d never seen a strip club before, and frankly, I kind of felt like it was a way to rebel a little more, even though my parents were states away and had no idea what I was doing. It was my inner child that spoke up in my head.
We were carded at the door by a big burly man with a leather vest. The name Crusher was stitched on the right side of his vest, and on the other side, Rough Riders MC. I didn’t know what that meant, and I wasn’t going to ask. I probably wouldn’t have understood it, even if he told me.
His face was set in stone, but when he smiled at us, I didn’t feel uneasy. I worried they wouldn’t let me in, but you only had
to be eighteen to get into a club like that in Nevada. They did put a special stamp on my hand to let the bartenders know I wasn’t of drinking age. Not that I cared. I wasn’t there for the alcohol.
Once inside, the sight before me had me speechless. There were girls on the stage, dancing to upbeat music and taking off their clothes, but that’s not what had me in awe. It was the story they were telling with their bodies, and the way they moved that had me hypnotized. Amy was impressed too, saying it wasn’t what she thought a place like that would be.
Finding a seat was difficult, since it was a full house, but we were able to snag a table in the corner that was surprisingly empty. I’d just hoped it wasn’t being saved for someone important.
A few minutes later, a waitress wearing a naughty schoolgirl outfit took our drink orders. We both ordered soda and she left, returning soon after.
I don’t know if she noticed the way we were both watching the stage, but she asked us if we danced. Without looking away from the stage, we both spoke at the same time, but our answers were different. “Yes.” “No.”
The waitress, who I now know to be Maci, laughed at our words and told us to flag her down if we needed anything else.
We stayed for about two hours that night. On the way home, we were both quiet. I don’t know what she was thinking, but I was contemplating going back the next night, but not to watch the show. I wanted to see about a job.
I was a little worried about the whole stripping thing, but maybe that would be something I’d get used to over time. I’d be willing to try at least. That much I was sure of.
When I woke up the next morning to a knock at my door, I was surprised to see Amy standing there, looking shy. I motioned her in and made us something to help wake us up.
Once the coffee was done, we both sat on my love seat, staring off into space. She was the first to speak.
“I think we should apply at the strip club.” That surprised me. First of all, because she already had a job, and she’d acted like she wouldn’t be caught dead working in a place like that. Second, she’d said she didn’t dance. She seemed a little afraid of the stories she’d heard about it and was uneasy about who owned it.
I was also happy that she was the one to bring it up, because I really wanted to work there. Although I was starting to consider her a friend, I wasn’t sure what she’d think of me if I told her I wanted to go back and see about a job. Apparently, I didn’t have to worry about it since she was interested too.
That night, we both got ready at her apartment, then headed out again to Bottoms Up. We didn’t dress like we were going out on the town. Instead, we wore jeans and tank tops. I still felt like I wasn’t covered enough, but compared to the dancers and a few of the girls I’d seen the night before, I probably looked like a nun. Plus, if I was going to work there, I was going to have to get used to it.
The guy at the door was the same from the night before, and surprisingly, he remembered us.
Amy led the way to the bar and flagged down a different waitress, asking to speak to the manager. The poor girl almost choked on her gum when Amy spoke, probably thinking we were about to complain or something.
A few minutes later, a man wearing the same leather vest as the man at the door came walking up to us. “Hello, ladies. My name’s Bear and I was told you wanted to speak to me?” He was an older man, who looked like he’d had a hard life, but he was still handsome for his age. Like the man at the door, his face was hard as steel, but he had a kindness in his eyes when he spoke to us. It was for that reason I felt like I could trust him, why I knew I could work there.
We told him we were interested in a job, then followed him back to his office. We found out he wasn’t just the manager, but that he owned the place. I was surprised and a little dumbstruck. I wasn’t expecting the owner to interview or talk to us about a job, but I was glad he did. He gave us some details, and asked us to come back the next morning for an audition, to which we agreed.
The rest of that night, I helped Amy with a few simple dance moves to prepare her for the auditions. She was a natural, even though she’d never taken a lesson before that night.
The next morning, Amy came over and we had a small breakfast together, before quietly getting ready. We didn’t speak as we dressed in yoga pants and loose fitted tank tops over our sports bras.
Maybe she was nervous about working in a strip club and baring her body for all to see. Heck, I was a little nervous about that part as well, but she had nothing to be worried about. She was freaking gorgeous. Standing at about five feet six inches, she was a little shorter than me. Her hair was a vibrant red, but not fake, that much I could tell. With eyes as blue as the sky and lips any woman would kill for, she would have any man eating out of the palm of her hand, without taking her clothes off or dancing. Just looking their way would be enough.
The walk to the club was quicker than I remembered, but it felt good; like a warm-up before a work out. I felt ready and eager to start a new chapter in my life.
No bouncers were outside. I thought the doors would be locked, but when we pulled on the handle, it opened into what looked like a whole different bar. All the lights were on and only a few people were inside. Bear was there, sitting at a table, flipping through some papers. There was a man I hadn’t seen before behind the bar, stocking the coolers and relaying inventory to one of the girls I’d seen the night before, holding a clipboard.
I didn’t notice it before, that all the men I’d seen working there wore the same vest as the bouncer and owner did. Would they be the gang that Amy spoke of, or something different? Or maybe it was a fashion statement? It could be their work uniforms, right? Either way, it didn’t matter to me. As long as they were fair and nice while I worked there, and I didn’t see anything that would push my limits of belief, I didn’t care if they were a part of the Italian mafia.
The two behind the bar didn’t even glance our way when we walked into the building, but Bear looked up from his papers and smiled a warm, kind smile. He still had a hard edge to face, but the smile was nice, though I’m sure it could change in a second if he needed it to. But once again, I felt I’d made the right decision.
He continued to be pleasant during our conversations about the job and throughout the auditions. He even let us do them together, for which I was grateful. I wasn’t shy when it came to dancing—or anything for that matter—but it was nice having Amy there with me. I’m sure she felt the same way.
After the audition, he sat us down and asked if we still wanted the job, and listened without annoyance when we told him how we were reluctant with stripping all the way down to nothing. He assured us that what we took off was up to us, that he didn’t care if we wore burlap sacks as long as we put on a good show. He did convey that he would prefer if we at least went down to our undergarments, but again, he said it was up to us.
Stripping down to my underwear wasn’t a problem, for me or Amy. To me, it was just like wearing a bikini. Not like I’d ever worn one before, but that was the way I was picturing it. Plus, I’d danced in my sports bra in front of a small crowd before, so it would be fine. I’d hoped, anyway.
We left the bar with a new job. We work Thursday through Saturday, nights of course, and even though it’s not five days a week, we make more than enough to cover what we need, and even get things we’ve always wanted but could never afford.
Now, almost a month into our job, things are going great. I still don’t strip down to the nude, but it hasn’t effected anything, so maybe I won’t ever have to. I can’t say that I want to, but I won’t say that I won’t either. I guess I’ll just have to feel things out as I go, and make a decision when the time comes.
The customers haven’t complained about not seeing me naked, and I take that as a good thing. That means I’m doing what I’ve set out to do, which is tell a story through my body, and maybe leaving a little to their imagination is what
they like too. Who knows?
Amy strips down to just her bottoms, but she didn’t start out that way. A week after we started, she asked me what I thought, and I told her to do whatever she was comfortable with. So, that night, she stripped off her top, and now it’s a part of her routine.
The people I’ve met are amazing. Amy and I are better friends than I could have imagined, and I’ve even added a few other girlfriends to that list. I’ve never had so many friends before in my life. Even the male staff are great.
They’re a part of a motorcycle club. They don’t talk a lot about what they do in their club, but I do know that Bottoms Up is one of their many businesses, and that they are all really nice men. Sure, they can probably be mean, but it feels good knowing that they’d have my back if I needed it. All the women who work there say they would never let anything happen to us girls, that they’d even go as far as to give us rides to and from work if needed, just to be sure we didn’t come across any trouble. It’s a nice feeling to have, knowing people care that much about my well-being.
Things are different now than they were before, obviously. I’ve got a job I like, and my own apartment. I do what I want and wear what I want, without having to worry about what anyone will think. I’ve even changed my name.
I figured with the dancing job—I’d rather say dancing than stripping—I needed a stage name. I wanted something that was still along the same lines as my real name though, so I went with Angel. At first, I just used it during work, but now, it’s really grown on me, so I’ve stuck with it. Every now and again, some people will still call me by my real name—mostly Amy, because she thinks it’s funny.
When I introduce myself to people now, at work and outside of work, I tell them my name is Angel. I think it fits me, but the real reason I picked it is because of the one routine I do at least once a week, sometimes more. I wear all white and look like an angel. Throughout the song, I strip everything white off, all the way down to my red and black undergarments. The customers love it and I get a sick satisfaction out of it because it’s probably how my parents view me; a devil in angel’s clothes.
The Preacher's Daughter Page 5