Chapter 5

Pip POV It took two days to find a job. Most clubs, when I walked in and looked around, didn't have enough escape routes. I needed to sneak away if trouble came through the door, and it needed to be close enough to walk to work and back; I didn't like riding to work unless I had no choice. It was easier to run between buildings and escape on foot than to start a bike and let them catch up. But I found one: a high-class club with upstairs VIP rooms, two exits, the main entrance, and a delivery dock. That had me asking if they were hiring. "Always, sweetheart, what experience do you have?" He made me feel dirty; the way he was looking at me almost made me leave and try somewhere else. He was that disgusting. I gave him my credentials and examples of my work. "You are a qualified microbrewer and a wine connoisseur, or is that a vintner? But heck, you can open your own place. " "I know, but I haven't found a place to set down and open a business." "Yeah, need to be by the river, and open a nice restuarant, make your own brew." Wow, it sounded like that was his dream, but I went along with it. My ideal wasn't that deeply thought out; I'll know what I want when I find the right place. "Do you have black slacks and a white shirt?" "Yes, sir." I had two pairs; it's standard wear in most places I have worked. I'm glad he didn't ask for a black skirt; I would have said no and left. I don't need a job that bad to wear a skirt; you can't jump fences in skirts. "Good, I'll give you a tryout. Tonight, come back at eight; it doesn't get busy till ten. That gives you a few hours to learn our system and meet Hank, the barman, and Stan, the cook." I left thinking I could work about a month or two, then hit the road again. Can't stay still too long; who knows how fast they might catch up to me. I found a room to rent from the community board. The room was nothing special, but it had its own bathroom, and that was a plus, and it was a fifteen-minute walk from work, perfect. The room had a lock and a fire escape, which made it even more perfect. I put my bike in the unused back shed to keep it out of sight. I paid a week's rent for the room and a little extra to use the shed. At seven-forty-five, I arrived at the club and entered; the place already had customers, and a band was setting up. "Pip! You came." Toby, the man who offered me the job- I call him the sleeze in my mind- still makes me feel like I need to go home and have a shower. "Hi ya, Toby." He threw me an apron, with the club's name on it. It didn't cover much, but I noticed the other staff wore them too; they went around the waist and had pockets for your tablet, orders, and money. Toby introduced me to Hank and Stan, and Hank took over showing me the ropes. I already knew the till and the ordering system; most clubs were the same. I served a few drinks to prove I knew what I was doing, and it wasn't all fake, before the place got busy. As the place picked up, the band got louder as expected, the dance floor got busy, making it tricky to deliver food and drinks, dodging bodies too busy having a good time, then those near them, hands reaching out to grope you and slap your behind. The pole dancers were not that good; I have seen better, but they had good bodies, and that's what pulls them in. The work was easy; I was used to this kind of madness. It stops my brain from thinking, and the worries never stay far behind me. I was sent up to the VIP section with a tray of food; a man was balls-deep in the waitress, which explains why I had to bring the food up. "Look, fresh meat. Come here, sweetheart." I moved to the man, placed the food on the table in front of him and turned to leave "Hey, don't go yet; the party's barely started." He reached out to grab my wrist, and he sounded drunk, and from what I had heard, this was a bucks party, one I want nothing to do with; I prefer a bed, or somewhere more private than in front of everyone. "Let go; I am not on the menu," I said flatly, trying to be polite and failing. "You are now." He tried to pull me to him, but I am not a weak girl; I am five foot ten and full of toned muscle, and I can fight when I have to. I pulled my wrist from his grasp, and he looked at me, surprised. He had expected me to tumble onto his lap- guess many girls might have. He looked rich and wasn't too bad-looking. "I said no." I left the VIP section and rushed back to work; Toby looked shocked I was back so fast. His phone rang, and he looked up at me. Guess I am out of a job already. "Pip, follow me." I sighed; I didn't work because I needed the money. I was taken down the hall to an office, where Toby stopped and knocked, a deep voice on the otherside, so deep it made me remember it had been a while since I had been with a man. My panties were now wet. 'Get a grip'. I told myself, annoyed to even think it, after shutting down an opportunity upstairs. Toby pushed the door open and nudged me inside. I knew the face instantly; I'd seen him before, but couldn't put my finger on where. Toby bowed. "New girl, trying out, refused the VIP section." Toby bowed again and left; the door clicked shut, loud in my ear. "Not into men?" He asked, sizing me up. "Men, yes, I don't mind them; drunk hookups? Not so much, and not when I am on the clock." I replied coolly. "Interesting, you're the first female to walk into this club that's refused the bonus for doing, let's say, extras." "Not interested; it was not part of the job offer I received, and if it's required, I am out of here," I replied, shrugging, not the least surprised or worried. "Not so fast, you interest me." "Too bad. I am not interested." I undid the apron, grabbed my tips, and put them in my jeans pocket in front of him; I set the apron and tablet on his desk and turned to leave. "You walk out that door, and you will not find a job in this city anywhere." He growled, expecting his threat to scare me; I wasn't some desperate woman who needed this job. I stopped my hand on the door handle and looked over my shoulder. "Suits me." His shock was brief, flitting across his face; his eyes widened before they came back under control, but I saw it, and I laughed in my head. They think they have all the power and don't like not having us all bow to them- typical power-hungry men, or those that think they have power. Opened the door and left. I didn't bother stopping to talk to anyone, not even to collect what pay I had made. I had tips in my jeans pocket, more than enough to cover the pay I didn't collect. Toby stood behind the bar watching me; Stan's head appeared at the kitchen window, and the sleaze glared at me; none expected me to walk out the door. They guessed about me, all wrong. I walked home and was glad I hadn't unpacked everything. Tonight I get a good night's sleep; tomorrow I hand back the keys and hit the road again.