Page 18 of H E R
We laugh suddenly, the atmosphere instantly changing between us. “I guess it’s the reason I haven’t left. Besides, I’m good at it. I don’t know why… I just am.”
She looks lost, contemplative, and guilty again. It tugs at a bond sewn by years and years of loving her as if we shared the same womb once, and I pull her into a tight hug. “I’m not ashamed, Jas, just upset you felt you had to lie to me.”
She nods and my eyes hold her. “Just because I thought you worked at a regular dance club,” meaning no nudity, “doesn’t mean shit, Jas. I don’t care.”
“In that case, maybe next time you should come work at the other club. I’m a supervisor there and the money is—” she sucks in air and smiles wide. “Phenomenal.”
“Hey! Lesbian Night is on Wednesdays. Back to work!”
We both turn to face the manager, a tall man in his mid-forties, all business-like and erratic about keeping his employees busy. We giggle to ourselves. “This is my sister, Mr. Carver, not my lesbian partner.”
“I don’t care about your relationship, Jasmin. Back to work, all of you! Break’s over, we have some very important clients inside. I need all hands on deck.”
Jasmin and I nod, then make our way in through the kitchen. “Speaking of lesbian partners, does Sara know?”
The look on her face gives me the answer, and my heart sinks. I stop walking and she turns when she realizes I’m no longer at her side.
“Jasmin, no more fucking secrets.” My voice is serious and husky.
She nods sheepishly and takes my hand.
The men who were out back taking their break, scuttle through anxiously. One of them gives Jasmin a knowing look. “You won’t guess whose car just pulled up.”
Jasmin gives him a quizzical nod. “Who?”
“Justice, youcannotbe caught with this, or my boss will have us both gagged and thrown in crates until we suffocate on our own fucking bile.”
We’re behind the bar area and she’s holding my camera and has this if-you-get-me-fired-I-will-be-the-one-to-kill-you look. It’s very amusing.
“Relax, I do this for a living, remember? Besides, do you think I’m going to pass up sharing this? The mayor is here—Ribbons! He’s out there, occupying a private section. He’s ordered expensive booze and entertainment.The mayor!”
Jasmin rolls her eyes at me. “I know, I know. Very juicy gossip—”
“I don't gossip, I’m a journalist. It’s very different.”
“Well, there’s a fine line between those two. Look, Mayor Carlton has paid for our private deck. No one is supposed to know he’s here. He’spayingfor privacy anddiscretion.”
“What he’s paying for is young girls, like you and I, to dance around naked at arm’s length. He’s spending our tax money on booze and girls, and you’re worried about the cerro’sprivacy?”
Jasmin sighs, fully exasperated, and it’s quite unsettling. Usually, she’s very supportive of me. What’s the deal? It’s not like I’ll get caught. I’m a pro at what I do.
“I can care less about the pig. What I do care for, in very high dosages, are our asses.”
“No one here recognizes me. Your boss will never know it was me who filmed him. Please, Jasmin,please.”
“Fine,” she sighs and I hug her, a squeak escaping my lips.
I stuff the camera into my apron and head on out. Melanie’s swamped with drink orders, and I decide to help her catch up before resuming my duties. It’s half-past two in the morning, the peak hour of the night.Ribbonsstays open until five, yet half the people here are drunk already. I silently wish they either have half a brain to order an Uber or had arranged to have a designated driver among them.
“Melanie, I need Bridget to attend to our guest in the left wing. A very important visitor has specifically asked for her.”
I’m filling five glasses with fruity drinks, my back to Jas’s boss and Melanie, but I catch her reaction in the mirror in front of me. Her face pales and her lips press into a hard, grim line.
“She’s only fifteen, Robert, you know this. It’s the reason sheonlyworks the coats.”
The boss, Robert, approaches her. He’s inches from her face, a head taller than her. “It’s the mayor, Melanie. What am I supposed to tell him?”
“Well, her age, of course.”