- What did you expect? – Mikky asked me. – You broke his heart. And a man with a broken heart does stupid things.
- No, honey, a woman with a broken heart does stupid things. A man should take it like a man and walk away. Because grown, 40-year-old men don’t act like little vindictive winy bitches.
- Just unfriend him then!
- No way! I’m having too much fun watching him trying to get back at me.
I was actually genuinely amused by Zed’s reaction, but I had too many things on my plate at that time, so his Facebook immaturity soon stopped being entertaining even on a slow Monday night. I was desperately trying to get my own place. And to get my own place I needed a lot of money.
You know how you don’t go fishing where there are no people? You go to a place where everybody’s fishing, because that’s where the fish is. The same happens with dancers: they fish where all the girls get some catch. It means that if the customer is new and he takes a girl to the room, you want to be the next girl who catches him right after. And that’s how I caught my most loyal customer, the guy who won the “Idiot of the Year” award from me and my friends, the guy who thought that we were actually dating, the guy who wanted to convert from Christianity to Judaism to marry me… God, I wish I started writing this book earlier, while he was still around, because I’m afraid I forgot half of the crazy shit that he was saying or doing. I gave him a name that perfectly fits him: Coconut.
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I first saw Coconut sitting at the bar with Alana and was pretty much surprised that she was wasting her time on such an unworthy looking customer. Alana and Megan, who were always considering themselves the elite of any club they ever worked at, with all their “with-my-style-and-my-look-I’m-too-good-for-Jersey” attitude, they never wasted their time on someone who looked like a soccer player who just finished his workout and forgot to shower. And he’s drinking a beer? Beer is a drink of a guy who spends his last $20 at the strip club and then walks home because he can’t afford a cab; no way a classy guy will drink beer.
“So something’s up”, - I thought to myself and continued working the room as a couple of my regulars showed up early, so I was done with them and now had nothing else to do. To my great surprise, in ten minutes Alana took the weird looking black guy to the Champagne room. “He has money for Champagne?” – I raised my eyebrows as they disappeared behind the doors. I was surprised even more when the “soccer player” didn’t leave right after the time was up, but returned to the bar and got himself another beer. For a couple of moments I was choosing between playing my Candy Crush Saga or trying to work with him, and since I needed money pretty bad, I put on one of my sexiest smiles and came up to the guy.
After five minutes of talking two things happened: he fell desperately in love with me and I concluded that he was a complete moron, and as our so-called “relationship” continued, both feelings from each side were getting stronger and stronger. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes the first impression from somebody can be untruthful or misleading; however with Coconut it was one way damn straight right. It was close to the end of the night and I was already pretty drunk, but very soon I realized that I will need much more alcohol to be on the same intellectual level with Coconut.
He was an accountant (what an exciting profession!), in his free time he loved playing soccer (you don’t say!), he was divorced and had two kids, a twenty something year old daughter and a son, still have no idea of his age. He didn’t normally go to the strip clubs, but this time his friends brought him after a soccer game and that bitchy girl made him go to the room.
- Well, now it’s time for you to go with the real girl, - I didn’t want to waste more time listening to his bullshit and called the hostess. – I will make you come back every day.
_______________
I actually did. Coconut was so crazy about me that he came back the very next day and became my personal dog who was following me wherever I was going. Coconut, who wasn’t exposed to strip clubs before, was very easy to manipulate and very soon I taught him that when I’m dancing on stage, he has to give me showers; that if we’re sitting at the lounge area, he has to buy shots from a shot girl (I was just trying to get as drunk as I could because I couldn’t stand him sober), and after my stage I needed a couple of massages from the massage girl. Very soon I mastered my training skills so perfectly, that I was making Coconut believe that we were dating at the club, since “I had no time to see him outside”. So I was texting him at 4 or 5 in the afternoon, saying something like “Are you seeing me tonight, honey?” (I always hated that word, “honey”, for no particular reason, so I was calling him that). And when Coconut would come to the club later that night, we would “have dinner” first (don’t forget, we “were dating”, so I had to make it look like a date), I would order my Caesar salad, he would order the same, then I would get 3 or 4 apple martinis in a row to get drunk faster and also make him drink something stronger than beer (he was spending much more and stayed in the room longer when he was drunk), and finally after I finished my stage, we would go to the room. In the room I was drinking Red Bull – vodka so I would have some patience to tolerate Coconut. He was an absolutely girlie man: his drink of choice after beer was “Sex on the Beach”. He didn’t know how much to tip the hostess and started giving her twenty percent only after I yelled at him once and gave her the money from my pocket. As I didn’t want to dance with him, I tried to teach him how to rub my back, but that didn’t work too well either.
- Jesus, you aren’t playing the piano, you’re massaging a girl! – I was yelling at him. – Do it nice and slow, it’s supposed to relax me and put me to sleep, not to wake me up!
- Like this? – he’s doing something with my shoulders that can’t be possibly called a massage. I just rolled my eyes at him.
- No, not like this! Turn around and let me show you.
I had a lot of tricks to waste a customer’s time in the room. Surprisingly, all my massages and talking, and pictures of my dog worked pretty well and he was staying at the room for 3 or 4 hours and I was going home loaded with cash.
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My aunt Anna and Ari left to Miami for a week and I couldn’t be happier to stay home alone. There was no more nagging and teaching me how to live my life, or waking me up early in the morning. I was finally getting enough sleep, getting up at twelve, feeding Tonya, who by that time would destroy half of the house, ripping the pillows and chewing on the walls. I couldn’t care less. I was loving every second of being there alone and finally left alone in peace. I knew it was the time to call the realtor.
Mikky knew some guy who was helping her friend Katie find an apartment in Sheepshead Bay Brooklyn, and as I wanted to move closer to the ocean and Mikky, and further from aunt Anna and Ari, I gave this guy a call. The very next day I was on my way to Brooklyn to check out several apartments he picked out for me, one in Midwood and three in Sheepshead Bay area. I have to say, I was very excited to see them all, even though the one on Emmons Ave wasn’t an option for me because of my dog, who wasn’t welcomed at the building. I just felt such an inspiration, I felt that I was finally moving forward and that my life, just like a big puzzle, was finally falling into place together. I had a man who I was crazy in love with and who actually made me believe again that real love does exist and not all men are complete jerk offs. I had my little puppy who I adored to death and who loved me to death too. My job sucked, yes, but it was bringing pretty good money and I could finally send enough back to my mom, so she could pay off the loan she took from the bank when I just came to the States and had no place to live.
R. kept saying that we needed to find me another job; he didn’t like seeing me dancing in my underwear on stage at all, let alone talking to the customers at the bar and doing rooms with them. Pretty soon we started seeing each other only outside the club as he didn’t like going there and see me working anymore. I liked that. It meant he cared about me and it made me fall in love wit
h him even more. As I knew a lot of things in my life before they actually happened, just like I knew that I would get a visa to America, or that there will be a female puppy at the pet store when I went there, I somehow knew that I will spend the rest of my life with R., that he’s the one, that he’s my soul mate, and I was ready to do everything to make it work. And first of all, we needed a place of our own.
I really hoped that by my 25th birthday (that was going to be in a month, at the end of July), I would start a new life, in my new apartment, with my new man, and hopefully a new job. So when the realtor showed me a one bedroom apartment on Ave T, I decided to go for it, and left him $300 deposit. However, God, who always has his own plan for me, decided to interfere, and when I called R. to let him know the good news, I hit the voicemail right away and kept hitting it for a couple more days. And as without R.’s help I couldn’t get the lease, as technically I was still an illegal immigrant with no papers, I realized that I got stuck. After several missed calls from my realtor, I finally picked up the phone and told him that my boyfriend, who was supposed to lease an apartment with me, had to go on an urgent business trip, so I will have to call him (the realtor) back as soon as he (my boyfriend) returns.
After a couple of days R. finally called me. He was upstate with his Godfather, he explained to me, and I didn’t want to know what they were doing there. I didn’t ask, I just smiled at the thought that all the jokes about the “three-body-trunk” of R.’s car weren’t jokes after all. The bad news was that I lost that apartment.
Chapter 18
My aunt came back and I got upset about losing that apartment even more. She started dragging me with her to the stores and teaching me how to live my life again. But more than anything I started to get annoyed by her attempts to milk me at every opportunity she had.
My first big mistake was to get a joined family plan with her when I decided to get an iPhone in April. She “nicely” offered me a fourth line in her account, and this way I would only pay $300 for the phone itself and about $100 every month. That seemed fair to me until my bills “somehow” got higher than $150 a month. And my own aunt had a nerve to blame it on me while paying half of her bills with my hard earned money.
- You are using too much internet data, - she was telling me one morning, when she came into my guest house without even knocking. Again.
- I’m not using too much internet, Anna. Go talk to AT&T, I’m not stupid, I can check how much I use every day, and just before the payment day it was saying 3.5 GB, while my plan allows up to 5. There’s no way that I used 1.5 GB at one day, you actually have to stream movies all frigging day to do that! – I’ve had it with her and wasn’t even trying to be nice anymore. Go ahead, kick me out, I dare you, bitch!
- Well, I don’t know about that, but that’s what the bill says. So this month you owe me $170. Ari wasn’t even using his phone, he’s been to Canada almost all month.
I couldn’t care less about what Ari was doing and where he was, I hated them both with a passion at that point, and it takes a lot for me to start hating anybody. My mommy always taught me to be better than that. But you have to be a person with no heart or compassion at all to try to screw your own blood relative who has to earn this money dancing in her underwear on guys’ laps. And I have no respect for people like that. I was so disgusted with her by now that I just took the money out of my wallet and gave it to her.
- Is that it for today, Anna? I would like to read a book and relax before I go to work. Thank you.
- Sure, sure, relax.
She left with such a happy greedy smile on her face, that I almost felt bad for her. If stealing from me a couple of twenties is the only thing that makes you happy, you are more miserable than some crack whore who fucks truck drivers for dope. Please, pardon my French.
_______________
My 25th birthday brought me more good news than I expected. First of all, Mikky finally got her papers and we celebrated her getting a Green Card by going out with R. and his friend to Lu Nellos, a very upscale and fancy restaurant in Wayne, New Jersey, not far from our club. Oysters, champagne and filet mignon made me feel like a princess again, and made me forget about my “family” problems.
And just about a week before my birthday Mikky offered me to stay in her apartment in Brooklyn, while she’ll be gone to St. Petersburg to see her parents after two years. And that was the best present I could possibly wish for. R. was very happy too, as we didn’t have to go to hotels every night after a date night, because I couldn’t bring him over to my guest house as my aunt had a habit to break in every now and then without my permission; and R. couldn’t take me to his house and couldn’t explain me either.
- Maybe he has a sick relative he’s taking care of? – Mikky suggested.
I didn’t know and I didn’t really care. R. introduced me to all his friends, his Godfather; he treated me like a princess and I couldn’t care less what the problem with his house was. Maybe he had a family in there or he kept decapitated bodies in his bathroom before taking them upstate… I didn’t care, I loved him too much. But honestly, I had such an unfortunate previous love life, that I would much rather prefer bodies.
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July 29 was finally here and R. showed up on my driveway with a huge bouquet of red roses, a cute stuffed kitty cat and a set of diamond earrings.
- If you don’t like them, we can exchange them anytime, - R. says.
I loved them. I put them on right away and we headed to Atlantic City. It was a perfect little getaway for both of us. I didn’t want to see anybody but R. next to me on my special day, and besides the further I was from aunt Anna, the better I felt.
At Atlantic City we stayed at Tropicana and the first thing we did is stopped by the bar for a couple of drinks, and after that we went to see the stand up comedy show. I remember laughing my ass off and how R. and I were posing for a guy, who was taking pictures of the guests. Later we picked the picture up and since then it never left my night table. After the show we felt like gambling a little and R. took me to the Black Jack table, since it was the only game that you can actually control, as R. explained to me. I’ve never been to a casino before and loved every second of it. For less than two minutes R. won about $500 and we decided to leave before the table could turn around as not to our favor. We had a nice dinner after that and headed back home, as R. had to work the next day and I had to go to the club too. For one last time, when we already were in Staten Island, we stayed at a hotel, and I remember how happy I was that in a week I’m going to have my own apartment and no more clerks will be looking at me like I’m a hooker with a customer. I mean, come on, no boyfriend-girlfriend couples stay for one night at a hotel with no suitcases.
_______________
The next day at work I had another birthday bash. All my regulars showed up with flowers, presents and chocolates and it felt pretty good to be stuck in the VIP all night, without having to go to the stage at all. I got a Burberry watch, a Prada bag and a pocketful of cash from those who didn’t know what to give me.
I have to admit, it felt pretty good to have so many admirers worshiping me like a goddess. But, like Marilyn Monroe’s character was saying in “Some Like It Hot”, I was 25 now, which is a quarter of a century, and I had to do something about my life. And I knew deep inside, that it wasn’t a life for me, no matter how successful I was as a dancer, giving lap dances grossed me out and no presents and money will ever comfort me after going to the room with another guy. I wanted to build a nest and start a family. As soon as I met R. I knew that I was ready to be a perfect housewife and a mommy. R. was always telling me that I was too smart to be a dancer and I was laughing.
- That’s why I’m so good at it, I know how to fuck with their brains, - I was saying.
- Well, I don’t want you to dance anymore. I don’t want no guys touching my baby. I’m getting very possessive of you.
- I know, baby. I just have to get my own place and then I’ll try to fin
d something else.
I was done with dancing. I set my mind on it and every time I set my mind on something, I was ready to do my best to reach my goal. And my new goal was to start my new, independent life with R., in our own place and quit dancing by New Year.
Chapter 19
- Why don’t you marry me? – Coconut was trying to look into my eyes, while holding my hand at the Champagne room. He annoyed me so much that I drank my Red Bull - vodka almost one shot to become half-conscious to deal with him.
- I told you almost a million times, I’m Jewish and you are Christian. I can’t marry a non-Jew.
With a normal guy who has at least some brain, this excuse would never fly of course. Just think about it: I’m a stripper, I dance in my underwear on Sabbath, and you think I’m so religious that I can’t marry a non-Jew? God, was he stupid!
Coconut smiles and says something that took almost all my self-control not to burst out laughing:
- Well, I have great news. We have a synagogue near our town and I spoke to the Rabbi. He said that I can convert into Judaism. I’ll have to attend certain seminars and to learn about the religion first, and then after several stages I can become a real Jew. Isn’t it great? And then we can get married!
The New York Doll Page 10