Casting Down Imaginations (24 page)

thirty two

Anaya

I sat on the couch watching television, drowning my sorrows
in the bottle of vodka that I’d stolen earlier. It had been a rough week. Mr.
Pier came by on Wednesday and got this month’s rent, which only left me with
thirty three dollars in my account. I’d answered every ad in the newspaper that
offered employment, only to be rejected because I had no formal training, no
higher education, and no resume. My feet ached and I was tired. All I wanted to
do was drink until I couldn’t think about finding a job anymore and fall
asleep.

Knock, knock.

I took another swig from my bottle and got up to see who was
knocking on my door. Through the peephole I saw a tall light-skinned man with
dark brown braids twisted down his scalp. I didn’t have a clue who he was.

“What?” I asked through the door and checked to make sure
that it was locked.

“Hey,” he said. “My name is Ayden, I live next door.”

And? What do you want?

“Yeah?” I asked with an attitude. I didn’t care if he was
offended by me not opening the door. I didn’t know him, therefore I didn’t
trust him.

“Yeah… Well um, I was just wondering if you had a cup of
sugar I could borrow,” he said. “I was just trying to make a batch of Kool-Aid
and realized that I was all out.”

I sighed. This fool was so lame. Did he really believe that
tired “Can I borrow a cup of sugar?” crap was going to work on me? He probably
saw me walk in earlier and this was his whack plan to get next to me. I could
already tell he was weak.

“Hello?” he asked when I didn’t respond. “You still there?”

Halfway drunk, I walked back to the couch and turned the
volume up on the TV. I didn’t answer him. He didn’t deserve an answer from me.
He was just another dog out to get one thing from me, and I wasn’t about to
make that same mistake.

**********

I shifted the grocery bags in my arms around in order to
unlock the door to my apartment just as Ayden exited his.

“Oh, let me help you with that,” he said, and hurried over to
assist me.

“That’s okay.”

He came over anyway and took the bags from me. “I got you,”
he said, and waited patiently for me to unlock the door and go inside.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I told him.

“It’s cool,” he insisted. “I don’t mind.”

I gave his body a review. He wasn’t bad looking, but he
wasn’t my type, which made it all the more easier for him to be ignored.

“Thanks,” I said, taking the groceries from him.

“You’re welcome. What’s your name again?”

“I never told you my name,” I answered while I blocked the
door to make sure he didn’t try to come in.

His eyebrows went up in surprise, but he gave me a smile.
“You mean you not gon’ tell me?”

I shook my head no and closed the door in his face.

thirty three

Anaya

I smoothed the hot iron over my crisp white shirt in
preparation for the day that was ahead of me. I was going to answer three help
wanted ads in person, and I needed to look my best.

“Anyone home?” a grizzly voice asked from outside my front
door. They knocked twice and waited.

Scared, I held my breath and crept to the living room window
and peeked outside. A moving truck from the furniture rental place was parked
outside my apartment.

“
Damn
,” I whispered under my breath, recalling the
numerous messages they’d left on my phone seeking the overdue payment I owed
them. Our written agreement stated that if my payment was over five days late
they would confiscate what was theirs. Today was the tenth day.

“Anyone home?” the man asked again. “Open up. We came to get
our stuff.”

I sat on the floor and leaned against the wall, thankful that
I hadn’t turned any music or the television on. The only noise came from the
iron that was hissing from its own steam.

I didn’t know what I was going to do. My rent was due today,
and I only had three hundred dollars to my name, and I got that from Deacon
Patterson to buy food and gas for the rest of the month.

I waited quietly for the person to leave and remained
perfectly still until I heard the moving truck outside drive away. Afterward I
got up and finished getting dressed, then made myself a turkey sandwich to take
along with me for lunch, along with a small bag of chips and an apple. I was
just about to leave when there was another knock on my door.

“Open up, Anaya,” Mr. Pier said. “We need to talk.”

“Crap,” I grunted, and reluctantly went over to the door.

“I still haven’t received your rent,” he snapped at me once I
opened the door.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” I told him. “Can I have another
extension?”

“Another extension? I’m trying my best to be patient with
you, but this is the second time that this has happened.”

“I know, but I’m supposed to be getting some money any day
now,” I lied to him. “And then I’ll pay you.”

His eyes pierced through me. “Friday,” he said in a warning
tone. “Or you’re out. You got that?” He stomped away angrily before I could say
anything else.

I slammed the door behind him, mad that my day started with
drama. After taking a few minutes to calm down, I finished getting ready and
left in hopes of finding a job.

**********

The mixed scents of alcohol, men’s cologne, and cigarette
smoke filled my nostrils as soon as I stepped into Club Prestige, the place
that was hopefully going to be my place of employment soon. The ad in the paper
said they needed waitresses. I wasn’t twenty one, but I was praying whoever was
in charge wouldn’t care.

“Can I help you?” a woman behind the bar asked.

“Hi. My name’s Anaya. I’m here in response to the ad in the
newspaper.”

“You trying to be a waitress?” she asked with a frown.

I nodded.

“You gotta be twenty-one to be a waitress here.”

“I am twenty-one.”

Her frown remained, knowing full well that I was lying.
“Upstairs,” she pointed behind her. “Go down the first hallway on your left. At
the very end of the hall is the owner, Jeff. He’s the one you want to talk to.”

“Thank you.”

She went back to her work without responding. I followed the
directions she gave and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” a man’s voice said from the other side.

I made sure my clothes were straight and my hair was smooth,
then opened the door. Sitting behind a massive desk in a very large room was
one of the sexiest men I’d ever seen. I was caught off guard. I was expecting
to see a middle aged white man, but instead he was young and black. He had
honey chocolate skin that I usually didn’t find attractive, but his was working
in his favor. That and the diamond in his ear that was big enough to pay my
rent for the rest of the year.

“May I help you?” he asked in a deep voice. He didn’t looked
up from the thick stack of paper on his desk.

I cleared my throat. “Are you Jeff?”

“That’s me. How can I help you?”

“I’m Anaya. I’m here to apply for the waitressing position.”

“Do you have a resume?” he asked, still looking down.

“Um… About that…”

He kept working. “The ad said to bring a resume. Where is
your resume?”

I felt stupid, but I was determined to get this job. My rent
was due at the end of the week, and if I couldn’t pay it then I was going to
have to move back home with Deacon. I couldn’t face him and tell him that I
spent all of his money. I needed this job.

“I don’t have one,” I said. “But I know that I can do this
job. I’m very smart, and I have—”

“Have you been a waitress or server before?”

“No.”

He looked up at me for the first time. “Are you twenty-one?”

“Yes.”

“Will your ID say the same thing?”

My eyes drifted to the floor. I couldn’t answer him. I was so
embarrassed.

“You’re underage,” he said. “I can’t hire you. Please leave.”

“Please,” I begged. “I really need this job.”

“I can’t hire you.”

“I’ll do anything. I’ll cook, I’ll clean.”

He ignored me and returned to his work. I turned to leave,
but then he stopped me.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “How old are you.”

“Nineteen.”

His eyes went up and down my body. “You in good shape?”

I nodded.

He stood up from his desk and circled around me. He smelled
good, but he was making me nervous.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You ever think about dancing?”

“Dancing? You mean stripping? I don’t do that.”

“Relax. I didn’t say anything about stripping. I said
dancing.”

I shrugged. “I’ve never thought about it.”

“You said you need a job, right?” he asked, and sat back
down. “One of my girls quit last night, and I need a replacement. The money’s
good, if you’re interested.”

I was.

“What all does the job entail?” I asked, moving closer to his
desk.

“Dancing, catering to the needs of clients. You got rhythm?”

I smacked my lips. “Rhythm?”

He flashed a smile at me. “Yes, rhythm. How you gon’ be a
dancer and you can’t dance?”

“I can dance,” I told him. “I just ain’t tryin’ to take my
clothes off.”

He smirked. “Come here,” he said.

I nervously obliged. Once I was behind his desk he took me by
the hand and led me through a door behind him. What I assumed was a storage
closet was actually another room entirely. It was mostly windows, besides the
oversized black couch that was against one wall, a treadmill in the corner, and
a gigantic plasma screen TV mounted on the wall next to us.

“You see this room?” he asked. “This is where I view this
club. Walk over here with me.”

I followed him across the room. Together we watched what was
happening downstairs. There were only a few people there besides the bartender.
Someone was there buffing the floor, and another was on the other side of the
club cleaning tables.

“This is my establishment,” Jeff told me. “Here we only
entertain the most distinguished. I’m talking about football players,
basketball players. Actors when they come into town. And because of that I only
hire the best. You look like you could handle it. And from the way you were
talking just a minute ago, you sound like you could really use the money.”

“What all would I have to do?” I asked, still not sure of
him.

He parted his smooth full lips and smiled at me. “It all
boils down to customer service, babe. Customer service. You just stand there,
dance a lil’ bit, and make the customer smile. You make the customer smile,
then you make me smile. You make me smile, then we’re all happy.”

“How much does it pay?”

“Enough,” he said. “It’s really all on you and how much you
willing to make. Some of my girls walk outta here with a thousand dollars a
night. But they work hard for it though. Is that something you interested in?”

A thousand dollars a night! Hell yeah!!!

“Possibly,” I answered, trying to remain cool.

He walked over to the TV on the wall and pushed a button.
Loud music filled the room.

“Show me you can dance,” he shouted to me.

“What?”

“Come on,” he yelled, and began to dance in his place. “I’ll
dance with you just so you won’t feel stupid.”

“I’m not dancing with you!” I yelled back, flirting a little
bit.

“Come on,” he flirted back. “Just a little bit. I promise you
I won’t bite.”

“No!” I yelled over the music.

He sauntered over to me in step with the music and took me by
the hand. “Come on. Let me see what you got.”

I stood still for a moment, but then started to move with
him. Because he was fine, I did a little bit more, showing him a few of the
tricks I had. Even though it was a little awkward, I needed a job, and no one
else was beating down any doors to hire me.

When he was pleased by what he saw, he turned the music off
and escorted me back to his office.

“You want the job?” he asked.

I hesitated. “And I don’t have to take my clothes off?”

“Dang, girl. What kind of establishment do you think I’m
running? This ain’t no strip joint. This is for hosting only. Private parties
and things like that.”

“How often will I get paid?”

“You get your money every night when you leave. It’s not a
salary position. You dance for tips. The club takes thirty percent of what you
get, though.”

“Thirty percent?” I asked. I didn’t like that number. “That’s
a little steep, don’t you think?”

“No,” he answered with a straight face. “Not considering all
that we do for you. Unlike most dancers, here you’ll get your own locker downstairs,
your own shower, and your own security guard assigned just to you. At Prestige
I like to make sure my girls are safe. Plus you know you gon’ get great tips
because of our customer base. ‘Round here my girls dance for six figure income
clients.”

I sighed, still weighing my options. I guessed thirty percent
wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t like he was trying to take half.

“When can I start?”

He licked his lips and smiled at me. “That’s what I’m talking
about. You can start Friday night. Come in around eight. And oh yeah, wear
something sexy.”

A thousand dollars a night, a thousand dollars a night, a
thousand dollars a night…

“Okay,” I said to Jeff. “I’ll be here.”

“Good. You’ll want to come in through the back door. Security
will let you in and will show you to the dressing room.”

“And I get paid Friday, right?” I asked, thinking of my rent
that was due the same day before 5pm.

He saw the concern on my face. “Yeah, why? What’s the
matter?”

I didn’t want to blurt out all of my business since I just
met him, especially since he was so fine. But there was no since in putting up
a show. I was in trouble and I needed help, and he was in the position to give
it to me.