I crawled off the sofa and opened the door.
As I opened the door I saw Jenny staring at me; she looked at my face and then at the bottle of whiskey which for some strange reason I had in my hand. Jenny’s mouth opened in astonishment and she chuckled.
“Wow!”
I also glanced at the bottle and feeling under the influence of the alcohol buzz, answered without any hesitation.
“What do you want?”
“Are you celebrating something?” She stretched her neck out trying to see what was on the table and who else was in the room
“I am not celebrating anything; there are no men here and no jam.”
Normally I would’ve been shocked by the cheek but tonight I didn’t give a damn about politeness.
Jenny, however, didn’t seem too offended.
“I am not after any jam.”
“Really? What are you after then?”
“Nothing really, just a chat...”
She was jibbing at the door, obviously surprised by a severe change of my attitude and mood.
“Come in.” I nodded. “Let’s have a drink.”
As Jenny headed towards the armchair I found a second glass in the cupboard and filled our glasses with whiskey. I didn’t hang around waiting for her, drank mine and ate a piece of cheese.
Before drinking hers Jenny stared at me for a while then downed her shot and also took a bit of cheese.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you? What’s happened since the last time we saw each other?”
I was silent not knowing what to say.
“We’ve not seen each other for a few days and you are already getting drunk by yourself. Did you have a barney with somebody?”
“I don’t have anybody to have a barney with, since I don’t know anyone here.”
“That’s what I thought as well. So why would you do this then? You look like it’s your own funeral.”
I turned away feeling hollow and depressed and still not knowing what to say.
“Tell me! You’ll feel better if you share…”
I looked at her wondering what her reaction would be if she discovered the true story. Can I trust her? Is there anyone I can trust? I sighed not being able to come to any decision.
“Something went wrong... you know, I thought I’d get some help but I didn’t.”
“Help with what?”
“Help with getting out of here.”
Strangely enough Jenny didn’t start bombarding me with any questions; she just took the bottle and filled up the glasses.
“We all hope that someone will help us out and even though some people have good contacts on the outside and some have a load of money, the truth is - when you are in Tally - you are completely alone.”
It was hard to argue with that and I just nodded. I was even a little struck by how smart Jenny sounded.
“So here I am... now… also completely alone here.”
“Is there any hope for you?”
“No.”
Jenny drank her whiskey, took a pickled cucumber and crunched on it deep in thought.
“Listen, have you got a job already?”
“Not yet.”
“Are you going to get one?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“What would you like to do?”
“I don’t know yet.” I couldn’t quite grasp where the conversation going. “I can’t even imagine what I could do here; I don’t have any particular skills or talents.”
“Nobody wants your talents here. There are either factories or farms in Tally. Any sort of admin work you won’t get here, unless you know the right people, but if I remember correctly you are a hacker so it shouldn’t be a problem for you to find something decent.”
“Jenny, in truth I’m not a hacker and I have never been one.” I waved my hand, drank another shot and decided to stop with the alcohol for tonight - one more glass and I won’t be able to find my own bed.
“So you’re not a hacker?” Jenny didn’t seem that surprised.
“No.”
“Well...” she paused. “You know, I came to see you for a reason. I actually wanted to offer you a job.”
“What?” I asked without any interest.
“A job! It’s really good that you haven’t found anything yet since if you decide to change jobs you get fined.”
“Is that also a possibility?”
“Believe me, yes. So are you interested or not?”
“Ok, I’m listening.”
“I work in a men-only private club for the rich members. Two days ago a vacancy came up because one girl had left and you are a very good looking woman - slim with long hair...”
“No, no! Don’t even think...” I shook my head in denial. “I’m not going to be a hooker; I am telling you this now”
“I’m not offering you to become a hooker!” Jenny was outraged.
“I’m not gonna be a stripper or please men in any other way!”
“Don’t be silly! Just let me finish first!”
I went quiet and stared in her round eyes in suspicion.
“OK, tell me more.”
“The club where I work - is a club for the richest and most influential owners of this city, they even call themselves the “owners”. And they really do own ranches, shops, restaurants and all that.”
“So what?”
“This club is the place where they gather every evening to chat, play poker, smoke cigars and drink. The club does not provide girls for them, at least I’ve never seen such a thing and it would be great if you got a job there instead of some half-asleep creature”
“Why is that?”
Jenny almost unnoticeably shifted in her chair.
“I’ll explain more a bit later but someone you know is always better than a stranger, you see.”
I nodded slowly wondering if she was leaving something untold.
“So what exactly do I have to do there?”
“You would have to bring them drinks, take the empty glasses away, ask if they need anything else and smile.”
“Like a waitress then?”
“Yes, exactly!” she confirmed happily. “We are there mostly for decoration, like flower pots.”
“But what if someone likes the girl? How do you get out of going to bed with them?”
“Trust me, it never happens there.”
“How can you be so sure? Maybe you just haven’t seen it happen?”
“I would know, believe me.”
Something in the way she was talking made me give her words some credit but frown at the same time.
“What is your role in the club?”
She hesitated for a few seconds.
“I’m... I’m a friend of the owner of this place.”
“What do you mean?”
“At first, I was a waitress like the others but then I saw he was interested and decided not to miss out on such an opportunity. My earnings increased and the amount of work decreased, so why not?”
“Wow! I see...”
Judging by her face, Jenny couldn’t quite decide whether she should be ashamed or proud of her situation.
“It appeared that he always liked plump girls.” she added and her face turned red.
I smiled, true – there is always someone who appreciates plump ladies.
“So you’re lucky then.”
“I kind of think so too. So are you going to give it a try?”
Suddenly I felt lost.
“Erm... What if I don’t like it? Or what if something goes wrong?”
“If you don’t like it I’ll ask my friend not to fine you, so you’ll just leave.”
That sounded good and somewhat tempting.
“What if my appearance doesn’t fit?”
“You have nothing to lose, if they don’t like the way you look then you’ll just have to find another job -it’s that simple. But also bear in mind that the wages in the club are much higher than in many other places in the city, plus these guys can add the “tip” points to your bracelet if they like how you do your job.”
“That sounds good. When do I start and what do I need to bring with me?”
“Nothing really, the club owner will be waiting for you tomorrow morning. You’ll have a chat and then he’ll decide whether he wants you or not. I’ve already told him I’d speak to you.”
I sneered - I couldn’t ignore the entrepreneurial spirit of my neighbour.
“They’ll supply the uniform but the make-up is up to you.”
“I got it.”
“Great!” she concluded cheerfully. “I’ll wake you up tomorrow morning and we’ll set off together, deal?”
I was still somewhat stunned by this unexpected twist and just nodded uncertainly.
“Deal.”
“I’m off to bed now and you wanna stop drinking now and go to bed - your puffy face won’t be appreciated tomorrow.”
One glance at the whiskey was enough to make me feel sick.
Jenny briskly got up from her seat and stopped by the door.
“It would be so cool if you got this job. Then we’ll be together...”
She smiled and shut the door behind her leavening me on my own with weird thoughts.
“What are we going to do together? Have breaks and lunches together or indulge her “friend” together?”
I put the unfinished bottle and pickled cucumbers back in the fridge shaking my head. Tomorrow we will have all the answers.
“Polo-grand” Club.
If I was to say “I didn’t like them” that wouldn’t be quite as accurate as if I was to say I felt a strong and persistent antipathy towards these sleek "owners" in their chic clothes, gold watches and their hair combed and gelled back, reminding me of peacocks. Polishing off the glasses I was carefully watching the dining room and a part of the game room from where some male’s voices and sometimes subdued laughter were heard. As soon as I am done with the glasses, the premium quality drinks will be poured in them, and the “big guys” will sip them slowly, enjoying their luxurious life while their employees bust their guts trying to earn another pathetic point.
The emotions I was experiencing at the moment didn’t come straight away but after many hours of working in the men-only private club “Polo-Grand”. It was my second week here since that day when Jenny offered me this job. They took me on with no problems but only after that friend of Jenny’s scrutinized my appearance for some time, he pronounced his compelling “yes”. Ever since then I’d been spending all hours in the elegantly furnished room decorated with leather and velvet, constantly filled with cigar smoke and only coming back to my apartment at Bell-Oak very late at night.
“Hurry up with the glasses - the customers are waiting for their drinks.” the bartender said making a passing remark and walked away to take the new orders from the waitress.
“I’m almost done.” I polished the last glass and put it on the counter. Waiting for the some drinks to be made I straightened my short skirt and fixed the flower pinned to my silk blouse which was the usual part of the waitress’s uniform at “Polo-Grand”.
Every morning on my way to work I would take in the level of poverty and dilapidation in Tally; I saw starving people and worn out hands of the mere mortals, wandering to their hated jobs in order to provide themselves with a piece of bread; whereas at the club I experienced the complete opposite of well-fed wealthy owners enjoying their luxury life style here. Seeing such a contrast on daily basis made me go through hundreds of conflicting feelings - on one hand my nerves were getting more and more shattered, on the other hand, seeing this was strengthening my self-discipline. I had to smile with a sincere friendly smile at the each randomly casted word and each meaningless phrase, saying, "yes, Sir”, "of course, Sir”, "is there anything else can I help you with, Sir?"
“There you go, brandy “Cherokee”, cognac “Vieille J'oublié”, two beers, one tequila, brandy and Sambuca. Make sure you give them to the right person.”
“Uh-huh. “ I nodded and trotted to the game room, wondering about the ingredients this Sambuca is made of. During my time at “Polo-Grand” I’ve learned how to distinguish alcohol by the colour. Getting customers’ drinks mixed up was considered to be outrages ignorance in the club. My everyday wage wasn’t massive but not too tiny either - five points, plus sometimes the customers would be very generous and tip me with some additional points. According to my calculations I discovered that considering the cost of food and other necessary things, I would need about a year or so to get out of Tally, not so bad if you think about the possibility to be stuck here for a lifetime, like many other prisoners here.
“Here are your drinks, gentlemen”. I smiled and began to carefully place the glasses next to each of eight men playing poker. They didn’t pay any attention to me since it was the time for “river” where the last and the most important card of the hand appears on the table.
“Damn you, Brennen!” said a middle-aged balding man in a dark jacket to his neighbour. “You already won all my money yesterday!”
Brennen - a fat man with a big belly and black moustache - just smiled smugly.
“What can I do if Lady Luck is on my side today?”
“I bet you bluffed! There were no two pairs in your hand!” The man in a black jacket wasn’t prepared to give up that easily.
“I’m allowed to bluff. If you’d called, you would’ve won this hand. Hey, girl, where is my cognac?”
The last phrase was thrown at me so I quickly placed a tumbler filled with amber liquid on top of a snow-white napkin next to him.
“Here is your cognac, Sir.”
“To the victory!” heralded the lucky moustached man and sipped his brandy. The others were not too keen to support his toast, perhaps because the victory was not that kind to them this evening.
As I’ve placed two beers, tequila and a Sambuca on the table I hesitated for a moment, looking for the person the last brandy was meant to be for, there were eight men at the table but only seven drinks on my tray, so which one of the last two men should I give this brandy to? I halted in confusion.
“Are you contemplating drinking my brandy?” I heard a calm deep voice coming from my left.
At once I turned around and met the eyes of the voice owner. He had short, but nicely cut and heavily sun-burnt hair, tanned skin and cold grey eyes under the dark eyebrows.
“No, Sir. Here's your brandy.” I mumbled, quickly placing the last glass next to him.” I’m ever so sorry for being so slow.”
In fact I didn’t feel any remorse but I got quite skilled at imitating the guilty babbling in order to avoid any sort of upset from the customers. I didn’t really care if they had to wait until the next spring for their drinks but if I ever wanted to leave Tally I had to oblige. So with mock politeness I simply asked if there was “anything else mister wanted” but "mister", as if he could feel the affectation in my tone, just stared at me for a while and then replied that he was “alright for the moment”.
I nodded and walked away from the table, somehow relieved. I had to admit he had rather grisly eyes - that man - very cold eyes and I wouldn’t like him to complain about me later, my hospitality has to come across more genuine next time, if I ever approach him again.
In the next minute I pushed the unpleasant thoughts away and went to another table to take new orders.
“Hey, how are you today?” Jenny came to me, wearing the same uniform as me with the emblem of the club on a short skirt.
“I’m okay.” I tried to stretch my tired of high heels feet, “tired, but alright.”
“Yes, I know, but I finish in an hour, I will go up to see Roger and then I’ll wait for you in the locker room.”
“Okay.” I said wistfully looking at the clock, feeling a bit envious of Jenny who won’t have to bring orders to clients and replace ashtrays full of dog ends. She’ll spend the next hour on a leather sofa upstairs enjoying herself with the club owner. However as soon as I remembered Roger’s appearance I stopped being so jealous. I was never attracted to skinny men with receding hair, especially someone who was as big-headed and arrogant as Roger. Although, I must admit, Jenny’s probably made the right choice, the choice that will get her a one-way ticket for “Tally - Freedom Express.”
I spent another forty minutes running around the tables waiting for the night shift staff to take over.
"Twenty more minutes, just another twenty minutes and I'll be on the bus home soaking in the hot bath. Soon. "
Meanwhile more and more men were arriving at the club. Most of them have finished their daily affairs and hastened to share a drink or two in the company of their kind. The number of points on my bracelet, as well as my mood were rising slowly due to the tipsy customers - the ones who were lucky at Blackjack or other card games were especially generous. It seemed that today, for the first time, I could take home eight or even ten points!
I smiled to myself and decided to thank Jenny once again for the opportunity to work here.
“Girl, I want more vodka with ice and a Coke.”
“Yes, of course.” I quickly pencilled down the new order in my notebook, trying to catch clients’ requests buried in general hubbub.
“Top up my brandy, please.”
“Done.”
“Don’t forget to sugar coat the rim of my glass.”
“Of course, I’ll sugar coat the rim of your glass.”
“And a slice of lemon!”
“Slice of lemon, got it.”
It felt like the plastic smile on my face will remain there overnight and no bath could help to get rid of it. I quickly passed the new orders to the bartender and attached my notepad to the bar counter. In order not to get told off by the manager for standing by the bar twiddling my thumbs (he didn’t care that I was waiting for the drinks to be poured), I decided to walk to the far end of the gaming room even though that was a serving area of another waitress - we appreciated any extra help whenever possible especially at busy times and try not to leave customers unattended. As soon as I approached the tables in the centre I saw with the corner of my eye how someone raised their hand and clicked their fingers. I turned my head in amazement (was this now the gesture to call a waitress?) and saw a familiar looking man. Of course, table number four - white shirt, gold chain, and grey eyes - who else would dare to call the waiting staff this way? Meanwhile, the man, seeing my baffled look, slowly raised his hand and snapped his fingers again.
"Arsehole" I hissed to myself, smiled widely and hurried towards him.
“What can I get you, Sir? I sang, wanting to kick the man where it hurts.
“Bring me a cigar.”
“Which one would you like?”
“Carrabana Number Four.” I quickly opened my notebook and noted down his request.
“Would you like your tip cut off?”
Voices of men playing poker immediately quieted down and for a few seconds the silence hung over the table, then a loud roar of laughter descended around me. A moment later I realised that this reaction was caused by the words “your tip” that came out of mouth.
“Ooops!” I could feel my face burning up and covered my mouth with my hand. The man, who asked for the cigar, looked at me disapprovingly.
“Hulk, the girl wants to cut something off you!” laughed the man with a moustache.
“Morris, did you just hear what she’s just offered him?”
“It won’t fit into a cutter… it’s too thick!” screeching from laughter replied Morris.
With all my heart I was wishing they’d stop laughing at my expense but it wasn’t just me who was incredibly embarrassed but also Hulk who was being mocked by others because of my silly mistake. And judging by his cold eyes, he was not going to forgive me easily.
“I didn’t mean to say that, Sir…” I tried to justify myself. “Honestly. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Give me your hand.”
I reluctantly stretched my trembling wrist.
“I didn’t mean it like that ....” I squeaked, still hoping for salvation but at this moment my bracelet made a short sound.
The laughter at the table faded almost immediately.
“How much did you take off her? One point? One and half?” hectic questions were shooting from all over the table.
“I bet a hundred bucks he took two points!” the man with a moustache put a hundred dollars note on the table.
“I don’t think so…” objected Morris. “Two points… I doubt it... Maybe just one…”
“I am telling you, two points and no less. Don’t you know Hulk?”
The bet increased up to three hundred dollars and new notes were thrown on the table.
“Hulk, tell us for how many points did you fine her?”