Diane Winters: Club, Bartenders, and Scotch

“You can do this,” I repeated to myself again as I stood in front of the double doors that led into the strip club.

The door handles felt cool to the touch and I paused for a moment with my hands on them as I listened to a commotion of raised voices and breaking glass coming from inside the shabby looking building.

I had a brief, reaffirming discussion with myself and threw my head back, straightened myself to my full height and nearly fell over in the new, uncomfortable stiletto heels I was just learning to walk in. My skirt seemed to have a mind of its own, creeping up as I pulled the door open and did my best to appear normal and not as nervous as I felt. I missed my slacks and flats.

I walked through the door making it about two feet inside the club before I almost got run over by an angry woman swearing and muttering to herself as she stuffed a wad of cash into her bra.  The woman roughly shoved a bottle of liquor at me.  It’s a good think I’ve got quick reflexes or that bottle would have crashed to the floor.

The first person that looked up at me was Vanilla. She looked much different than when I had seen her last. The pretty girl with the smeared raccoon-eye-mascara and the thrift store jacket was now a knock out, dressed in a shimmery, sequined outfit that would have made a diamond dim in comparison. Still underneath he glitter and makeup, there was something sad about her demeanor.

She recognized me immediately, but I gave her a barely imperceptible shake of the head to warn her not to let on. She returned the gesture with a slight nod. Good, I liked people that got subtle.

I stood in the same spot for a little while, not trusting myself to casually saunter into an unknown place with the new heels. The music was loud, and I could feel the vibration in my legs.

“Are you lost?” A man said, approaching me.  He extended his hand.  I was surprised at such a civilized gesture.  I started to extend my hand to shake his, but instead he took the bottle of what appeared to be some expensive liquor out of my other hand.

“I was hoping you might be hiring?” I said.

He looked me up and down in the creepy kind of way some guys do. “Have you ever worked as a bartender before?”

“I’m a quick learner,” I said, way more confidently than I felt.

He walked around me in a complete circle, eying every inch of me. “I’ll just bet you are, baby.”

I rolled my eyes, but thankfully he didn’t see. One of the girls to the left of me giggled and clamped her own hand over her mouth.

“Get this damn bar cleaned up,” he said. “We open in 30 minutes.”

“At least I’m not a stripper,” I said under my breath when his back was turned.

“Yet,” Vanilla said as I took the broom from her.

“Pardon?” I asked.

“Don’t think you won’t have to wiggle your ass. That always comes next,” She said, leaning into my ear so that only I could hear.

I looked up at the two women practicing their act on the stage. I’m sure my expression must have been comical, but my intentions were anything but.

Diane Winters shakes her ass for no one.

 

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Written by Diane Winters (aka Ionia Martin)!  Check out her other websites here and here

Vanilla: Cashews, Lil Lil, and Nimby

I glanced at my watch for the umpteenth time.  Thomas had called an emergency staff meeting to go over some things that he deemed to be important.  After listening to him drone on for the last hour I was still waiting for the “important” part.

Then I heard him say Lily’s name.  Every cell of my body came to attention even the hairs on my arm stood erect.  Why in the world would he be mentioning Lily at a staff meeting?

“The other night we almost had an emergency situation.”  Thomas informed.  “But thanks to Lenny’s quick thinking it was diverted.”  I looked around at the other girls who looked as clueless as I felt.  Thomas’ crystal blue eyes pinioned me in an intense stare.  “Vanilla, almost ate a brownie with cashews in it.”  The girl to my right gave a who cares shrug.  I swallowed convulsively, fear whipping through my extremities.

“For those of you who are unaware both Vanilla and my daughter Lily are allergic to cashews.”  Thomas stated.   “So, ladies the brownies are off limits for my two girls…got it?”

“Got it!” The girls replied collectively.

“Now, on to the important stuff.” He continued.  “You are all going to have to pick up extra shifts this week.  We are short on strippers and bartenders.”  A grumbling started low, rapidly rising to a fever pitch frenzy of cussing.

“COOL IT PEOPLE!  PRINCESS IN THE BALLROOM!”  Doris’ gravelly voice rose above the room filled with teeming anger.  Instantly, the room fell silent.  The atmosphere melted into one of adoration as we all looked over to see Lily standing in her Winnie the Pooh pajamas rubbing her sleepy eyes.

I was already half way across the room when Thomas growled, “Vanilla, take care of this dammit!”

Lily knew the rule.  She was never to come downstairs at the club unless she was with Thomas or me.  I simply nodded at him as I scooped my sleepy daughter up into my arms.  She wrapped her arms and legs around me snuggling her head onto my shoulder as we climbed the stairs.  I whispered the rule to her as I ascended the second flight of stairs.

“I know, Momma.”  She whispered back.  “But you hadn’t come to tuck me in.  I was falling asleep.”

“I’m sorry Lil Lil.” I apologized dropping a kiss on her button nose.  I placed her in the center of the brown suede futon in Thomas’s office.  I pulled the sheet and blanket up while I tucked it under the entire outline of her little body.  I sat down next to her on the futon gently brushing her chestnut hair back from her face.  Her blue eyes looked up at me as she mirrored my actions, brushing my hair back.

“Momma can you tell me a story, please?”  She whispered in her sweet lyrical voice.

“What kind of story, sweetheart?”

“Tell me a story about Nimby.” She said with her pixy grin.

Smiling, I winked at her mischievously, “Hmmm…I don’t think I know this Nimby.”  I shook my head my brow creasing with fake confusion.

She giggled, “Yes, you do Momma.  You know, N.I.M.B.Y. the Elfkin halfling who is always stealing your apples…the one who talks all the time!”

“Ohhhhh…that Nimby.” I chuckled.

I heard the knock on the door just as I was about to launch into a new Nimby adventure.  We both sighed at the same time.  “I’m sorry sweetpea.”  I said bending down to kiss her forehead.

“It’s ok Momma, it’s not your fault.”  She smiled.  I stood to leave, trailing my arm behind me as she held onto my hand for as long as possible.  Her little fingers gripped my hand, “Momma, can we say a prayer for the people in Oklahoma who were hurt by the nasty tornado?” She asked softly.  I nodded. After she prayed, I kissed her cheek then walked to the door.  With my hand on the door’s handle I looked back at my reason for living.  A lone tear escaped.

I didn’t deserve this perfect child.  Not me.  How could a child so filled with light come from someone as dark as me?

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Who is Nimby (aka Charles Yallowitz)?  Check him out here