walked over to the front desk where three female associates where all wearing the same white scrubs uniform down to the ballerina bun hairstyle and red lipstick. When it was my turn in line I was helped by the one in the middle. Her name tag said Hyddie “Hello, welcome to The Rush Hotel, can I help you with checking in?” She asked robotically yet politely. She gave me the female judgmental elevator look. She judged me by my wrinkled slacks and dingy blouse and concluded that I did not belong there. “Or is there something else I can do for you?” She asked in the perfect customer service voice. She immediately turned her attention to her keyboard and practically disengaged.
“I’m actually here for a job interview.” I said. “I’m here to see a Mr.Kruger.”
She looked down and stroked a few keys on her keyboard. “There seems to be some kind of a mistake. Mr. Kruger isn't scheduled to be here until Next week.”
“I guess there is a mistake. I received an email just this morning for an interview at 1:30 today.”
“I’m sorry ma’am, I won’t be able to help you today.” She said in dismissal. I on the other hand was not satisfied with that answer or the fact that I wouldn't be having my interview. I took out my phone hoping to god that their wifi wasn’t secured so that I can get online and check my email. Because my phone bill was the last thing I could afford, my service was cut off. I was forced to use a free google number. I tried to connect but the wifi was indeed secured. I was tempted to ask for the wifi password but I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing my business. So I pretended to check my email and bowed out of this match as gracefully as possible. “Look at that, I’ve gotten my dates crossed. Have a nice day.” I said.
I did my best to walk with purpose as if I had somewhere to be and I’d just wasted precious day light on her. But in fact I had nowhere to be and no purpose at all. I exited the lobby and sat down on a bench outside next to the valet booth. For the first time I had nothing to do, no plan for my day. I spent the night before wallowing in self pity. The way the day started I thought everything was about to change. I put all of my eggs in one basket that technically hadn't been woven yet. I was kicking my own tail when a lady sat down on the bench next to me. She was barely wearing anything. A fishnet body suit over her neon green bra and panties. I tried not to judge but she was either in sex work or there was a pride parade somewhere. She lit up half a blunt then exhaled like she’d just finished a marathon.
There was a second of awkwardness before the turned to me.
“Wanna hit?” She asked.
“I’m not a smoker, but thanks” She took another drag and threw her head back looking straight up. “Oh my god I’m so sick of doing this shit.” She said. Since she brought it up, I had to ask.
“What is it that you do?” I was trying to confirm my suspicions.
“Bitch look at me, what do you think I’m doing?”
“So I’m a bitch? I guess that makes you a hoe.” I said getting angry. I was not about to be disrespected by some random from the streets. Even at the lowest point in my life I’m still me.
“No bitch I’m a stripper. Ain’t nobody a hoe. Maybe sometimes I’ll fuck for a stack but I don’t make it a habit. These Russian ‘muthafuckas got money but they don't know how to handle a booty like mine. They like to look and touch but when it comes to the business they get all sweaty and confused. Ion’ got time for weak shit. I like a man to squeeze the cheeks and spread them before putting in a big hard dick.” I really wasn't interested in her sex life but the money talk got my attention.
“So how did you get into dancing?”
“Well my cousin is the DJ. This place is like an uppity hotel but the bar has a secret strip club in the back. They call it Kitty Bar. He told me I could come dance if I brung some big booty white girls with me. I did but there was already a bunch of white girls working here. I work the bar during the day but since I’m the only black girl I’m the last to dance at night. I think of it as saving the best for last but it’s probably a fetish thing. I get the most money thrown though so I’m not trippin’ on it.”
“Do you like it or do you really want to leave?”
“I do want to leave but the money is too good to leave without having a way to keep making the same money.”
“So it’s just about the money then? You don't feel any shame being the token black girl dancing for a bunch of foreign white men who prefers white women?” After saying it I realized it came out harsher than I intended.
“Again, Ion’ got time for weak shit. Before I danced here I was dancing at Legacies but it got raided and closed down. The men are all the same. It don't matter who's throwing the money when I have bills to pay and a sick mother who depends on me for her care. As long as it’s American money I won’t feel shit but the molly workin’.” I was shocked at her candidness. She gave so much information without me asking many questions. It was a bit strange how much she told me. I was a stranger to her and I basically had her life story. As a cop I had to ask questions and make threats all day before I got that much info. I was seriously considering dancing when one of the valets walked over.
“Damn Shine what are you doing here? You know you not supposed to be out front. You want me to loose my job?” He said grabbing her arm and pulling her up from the bench. He pulled her all the way around to the side of the building. Instinctively I stood up to follow them. I didn’t know her but I didn't need to in order to protect her from abuse. I had to will myself to stay behind. When I saw him walking off alone towards the parking lot I quickly ran over to check on her.
I saw her leaning on the wall with the blunt again. “Hey are you ok.” I asked. “That guy was pretty rough with you.”
“I’m fine, that’s just Stanley.” She said offering no other explanation. He came jogging back with a wad of lose clothes in his hands. He handed her the clothes and kissed her on the lips. “I’ll see you later baby.” He told her before walking back to his car. “Well it was nice talkin' to you.” She said. “But my break is over, I need to get back to the bar.”
“Wait, before you go I need to ask you something.” As I took a beat to work up the courage I felt that I was trading in my self respect. Considering I was living in my car and frequently getting kicked out of McDonald’s I probably didn't have much self respect left. Pride wasn't going to get me off the streets and my reputation seemed determined to keep me there. If I was going to survive, I had to make a decision right then. “I was just wondering, if you could help me get a job, as a stripper?” I regretted it as soon as I said it. I wanted so bad to take it back. To walk into that hotel and demand to be seen. I just knew that would solve nothing. I still wouldn't have a job and I would still be poor, living in my car with no way of making money. “You, want a job here?” She asked surprised. “You’re kiddin’ right? Have you ever even seen the inside of a strip club?”
“Of course I have. Why would you say that?” I was a little offended. She had no right to judge me. Although I’d only been to one because a strip club was once the scene of a crime that I was assigned to. But she didn’t know that. “I saw how you looked at me when I sat down.” She said. “I could tell you thought I should be embarrassed. I could also tell you liked what you saw. I always get that same look from middle aged women.”
“Excuse me? You definitely tried it.” I said. I knew I looked rough but middle aged was a damn lie. She stepped back and started going in on my outfit.
“Look at you. The pants suit alone screams ‘I’m
