Sweet Little Thing - Page 10/36

I couldn’t move just yet. My stomach was in knots and my thoughts raced with how I’d make up the difference of that money. How would I take care of Heidi now? Would I be able to keep her in the place she was now calling home?

I turned to see Portia standing inside watching me. Her face was blank, lacking any emotional. She was simply staring my way.

Would she tell Jasper about Heidi? Was that even an issue? He had no reason to take care of my sister or give me a job. He was giving me a place to live and work. Heidi lived only ten miles from here. I had to find a way to make this work. The only answer was for me to get a second job. One where I could make the most money.

I’d have to leave Heidi early today to find out if any clubs were hiring nineteen year olds. A club would pay the best, even if all I could do was work as a hostess. The college clubs let nineteen year olds in with a band on their wrist marking them as too young to drink. I was pretty sure I could get a job at a club or maybe as a waitress somewhere.

For now, I had to visit my sister and smile. And pretend it was okay. That our lives weren’t holding on by a thread yet again.

THE BRIGHT LIGHTS OUTSIDE ROCKS on The Riverfront—an eighteen-year-old and older club that was located on the roof of a well-known hotel—seemed to be highlighting it as the most popular location for the college crowd in the area.

I had left Heidi at four that afternoon and spent an hour searching for places that were hiring and were open late night or all night. Rocks on The Riverfront didn’t get busy until nine in the evenings, and was open until three in the morning. Those were perfect hours for me.

It wasn’t even seven yet. I’d called asking if they were hiring, and a girl had me speak to Mr. Carey Jones, the manager. He said he’d interview me at the club at seven o’clock. Mr. Jones went on to tell me that they had limited positions for someone my age, but he may have an opening for a hostess. I knew without him saying anything he wanted to see what I looked like. My appearance mattered at a place like this. I hated that, but I was desperate.

The short black skirts and tight black halter tops the girls were wearing when I walked in were expected, but seeing the uniform only made me more nervous. I never dressed like that. The most revealing thing I owned was cut-off blue jean shorts. This would be difficult to adjust to. If it paid enough that I could pay for Heidi’s care, I could live with it.

“We don’t open for another thirty minutes,” a redheaded girl with long-in-no-way-natural eyelashes said as she stopped in front of me. No one else seemed to notice me until her.

“I’m here to meet with Carey Jones,” I told her.

She did a quick scan of my appearance and nodded. “Of course. This way.”

Her hips swayed when she walked and the short skirt she wore barely covered her bottom. I imagined that got her a lot of tips. She was probably paying for her college. Or maybe she had someone she had to take care of too.

“He’s in there. Knock and wait. He’ll answer when he’s done.”

“Thank you,” I told her, grateful she had stopped to help me.

“Yep,” was all she said in return before leaving me standing outside Mr. Jones’s office.

I knocked on the door and waited. I heard voices inside, and I didn’t want to be rude by knocking again, but I wondered if they hadn’t heard me. One voice sounded female and made a high-pitched noise that sounded a little . . . Odd to be coming from the office.

Before I knocked again, someone came to a stop beside me.

“You looking for Carey?” a tall guy with brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and bright green eyes asked.

“Yes.”

He nodded then knocked loudly on the door. “You got company!” he yelled, then looked back at me. “Give them a minute to get dressed,” he said as he turned and walked down the hall.

If I hadn’t been nervous before, I was now. They were getting dressed. Which meant they hadn’t been dressed. Which meant the high-pitched squeal I’d heard was exactly that—a high-pitched sex squeal. Maybe his girlfriend worked here. I had no problem with sex in the workplace. I just thought it was weird when Mr. Jones knew he had an interview about now.

The door finally opened and a tall, leggy woman with platinum blonde hair walked out. She ran her hand over her mussed hair and sauntered past me without even a glance.

“Come on in,” the man inside said. I took a deep breath and entered the office.

I’d had sex only once in my life. It hadn’t been enjoyable and I hadn’t tried it again since. But I wasn’t innocent. I had been to parties in high school. I’d been around sex. I knew what it smelled like. And this office smelled strongly of sex.

Carey Jones didn’t appear to notice, or he didn’t care.

He ran his hand through his thinning hair and gave me a once over much the same way the redhead had.

“You’re uh,” he glanced down at a piece of paper on his desk that looked creased from being sat on. “Beulah?” he said, then looked back up at me.

“Yes sir.”

He grinned then. “Nice. You can read, write, and walk in heels, correct?”

Those were odd questions. “Yes.”

“When can you start?”

“Uh, as soon as possible.”

“Good. Tonight’s not a good night for training. Monday nights are slower to learn the ropes. Be here at tomorrow night at eight. I’ll have a uniform waiting for you. Size four?”

I nodded not sure if this was a joke or just this easy.

“I’ve got to handle a mistake with some ordering at the bar. So, unless you have any questions, take this application and consent form with you. Fill them out. Bring them with you tomorrow—and I’ll need a copy of your driver’s license.”

“Okay,” I said, taking the papers from him. Then I realized I had no idea what the pay was. If this would even be enough. “Do you know how many hours a week I’ll be working and what I will make an hour?”

“I can work you as many as forty hours a week and as few as twenty-five. Your call. And hostess is paid twelve dollars an hour. You don’t get tips like the servers so the pay is better. However, many times my hostesses get tipped for putting customers in the spots they want. That kind of thing. So, there is a way to make more.”

This wasn’t going to be enough, but where else could I get twelve dollars an hour? “Okay. Thank you,” I answered. He gave me a creepy wide grin before leaving me in his office.

I walked out of his office with the papers in my hand. After taxes, I would make about $1500 a month. That’s working forty hours a week. I needed more money. Or I could talk to someone at Among the Spanish Moss about a payment plan until I could figure out how to make more money. Maybe I could get Heidi a smaller room, if that was even an option. I had no idea. Portia had handled everything with the home.

I’d been so relieved to have somewhere for Heidi that wasn’t a cardboard box on the street snuggled up next to me that I hadn’t asked. Now, I needed to know. I had to figure this out. I should have been figuring this out from the start. Not just assuming Portia would always take care of things. I didn’t have the excuse of losing Mom anymore. I’d mourned her. I’d cried myself to sleep many nights. I had to grow up now. She’d would have expected me to.

This job was going to be exhausting. I wouldn’t have time to work three jobs. These two would take all my time. Tomorrow, I’d call and talk to the people at Among the Spanish Moss and see what could be done. If I had to, I’d find another home for Heidi. It would upset her and that would break my heart. But if it was impossible to keep her there, I didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t be left alone while I worked and there was nowhere I’d make the money I had been making with the Van Allan’s.