Page 31 of Fight or Flight

When I started to work as a bartender in a strip club about two years ago, I was certain that I’d be in the clear because of all the beautiful semi-naked women walking around while I was staying hidden in the shadows, preparing drinks. But I was wrong.

Men always want what they can’t get. It excites them more when you’re not interested. And unfortunately, they love it when you play hard to get. I say, unfortunately, because it’s not an act in my case. I’m not interested. Sometimes, I even think that I turned asexual because no one can get me interested since...

Nope. Not going there. I must be getting sober again.

I motion to the other girl working next to me, whose name is Cassy, that I’ll be back in five before I slip through the backdoor and flinch at the harsh light and sudden silence as always when I reach the soundproofed part of the club.

I enter the changing room for the stripping girls, where I also store my things, and check to see if I’m alone before diving for the little baggy that contains the powdered happiness that’s been keeping me going for years now.

My nose burns slightly after I snort two neat lines from the little mirror I carry around, but the feeling is quickly overpowered by the euphoria flooding my body within my next breath.

There will be time for shame and self-disgust tomorrow when I run out of my stash, but now nothing else exists than the beautiful feeling of happiness.

I go back behind the bar and finish my shift, bouncing around like an over-energized bunny, and sing every lyric to each song that plays on the stage.

I’m free, and no one can take that away from me right now. Not Cassy, who keeps shaking her head at my antics, not Trixy when she comes off the stage and shoots me a worried glance that I’m too distracted to acknowledge, and not all the leery men around me.

This is Claire's time, and right now, I’m on top of the world.

It’s after two in the morning when the bouncers straighten their poses, and the waitresses rush to look even more busy as the club’s owner comes through the entrance, his younger brother in tow.

Sergio and Nico Ramirez are both big, dangerous-looking men dressed in expensive suits, but as soon as you watch their dynamics, there’s no question as to who’s the real boss here.

I only had one interaction with Sergio when he ordered for someone to bring him some Scotch to the back office. And I’ve been avoiding even looking at him directly ever since.

The man is handsome, I’ll give him that, but the look in his eyes did nothing to hide his ugly nature. It was something that I encountered before. Cold calculation, cruelty, and evil thoughts. I remember that same look crossing through David Wallace’s eyes many times whenever he glanced at his daughter before masking it with a good-natured smile. But the older Ramirez brother never bothers to hide it. He doesn’t have to. He’s dangerous, and he wants everyone to know that.

His younger brother, Nico, is a tame version of his brother who doesn’t hold the same level of ugliness within him, but there’s no doubt in my mind he would do everything Sergio asked him for. It’s like he’s a puppy waiting for his brother’s approval.

Together, they own a chain of very well-known bars and strip clubs in Chicago.

I guess, at one point, Nico developed a small crush on me, which became apparent when, instead of getting me fired from the previous location for cursing out a client and dropping a drink in his lap, he just moved me to the Pink Panther, where he frequents more often.

We sometimes flirt, but I do try not to string him along too much. I can’t downright shoot him down because I need this job. But I’ll never be interested. So, I’ve been waiting for him to get bored with me and move on to the next girl while playing nice.

Now, his eyes find me right away, and he winks before snapping his head away to nod solemnly at something his brother says. I watch as they disappear behind the double doors, protected by one of the guards.

The whole staff seems to take a collective breath of relief as we all get back to our task, the clients obliviously drooling at a woman named Mila hanging upside down from the pole with her legs spread wide.

By five in the morning, the place is getting empty, and most waitresses look worn out and ready to get home. Saturdays are usually the worst for them. Not me, though. I’ve been having a great time, with two more trips to the backroom.

Finally, at six, we close after the last customer and start cleaning the place. My smile still in place; I finish tidying the bar in no time and am soon helping around other girls with the tables and polishing the stage.

When I exit the building, it’s already eight in the morning, and the sun beats restlessly at my blond hair. The last remnants of my high are starting to wear off, and heavy drops of sweat collect at the top of my forehead before running down my temple.

I frown at the once again ugly-looking world around me and begrudgingly start walking toward the small apartment that I rent with my friend Christy.

As soon as I open the door, the rancid smell of puke welcomes me, and I rush to the sofa where a limp, skinny body lies with her head hanging from the edge—a splash of vomit on the floor, with chunks of it sticking to her tousled hair.

“Shit. Christy? Christy! Wake up,” I shake her forcefully, scared shitless that this time she surely overdosed, but then almost collapse in relief when she stirs and groans.

I help her flip to her back and curse loudly when I notice the needle still sticking out of her arm. The purplish veins in her pale skeleton arm alarm me even more. I take a brief look around and find a burnt spoon and a lighter.

“I thought you were done with this shit, Chris. It’s fucking killing you,” I blink back the tears of despair and set myself on anger instead. “What the fuck were you thinking? You could’ve choked on your own puke.”

She coughs a few times before mumbling something unintelligible and then falls asleep.

I rub my forehead and close my eyes, regretting the last portion of coke blown up my nose prematurely. I could sure use the boost right now.