LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter 8

      Over the weekend I drove my beat-up Jeep Grand Cherokee to Barneys. I self-consciously handed the valet my keys, super aware that my car didn’t exactly fit in with the sleek and shiny Mercedes, BMWs, Ferraris, and Bentleys.

      Once inside, I forgot about my insecurities and I beelined for the shoe department. I looked around at the immaculate displays. For the first time in my life I could afford to buy whatever I chose. I was like a kid in a candy store.

      “What can I help you with?” an immaculately dressed salesman asked, looking disapprovingly at the worn-out flip-flops I was wearing.

      “I’m just looking,” I said, ignoring his snobbery.

      “May I pull some styles for you?” he asked.

      “Sure,” I said cheerfully.

      After trying on ten pairs, I settled on a classic Louboutin black pump. “Are you this good at finding dresses too?” I asked him.

      “Come with me,” he said warmly, as I shelled out the thousand in cash to pay for the shoes. He was nicer to me now that I was spending money.

      “Let me introduce you to my friend on the fourth floor,” he said.

      Her name was Caroline. Walking along with her, I felt like how my car must have felt in the lot with all of those fancier versions of what a car could be. I was incredibly aware of my own sloppy appearance. Barney’s was filled with perfectly put-together women who looked like they had never had a bad hair day in their lives. I was in jean shorts, flip-flops, and a sweatshirt, my hair was in a messy ponytail, and I had on a Denver Broncos hat, but the worst was my glaringly obvious fake Prada purse that I had bought from a vendor in downtown L.A.

      “How can I help?” she asked.

      “I’m looking for a dress that makes me look nothing like myself.” I laughed. She laughed too.

      “Is this for work? Date? An audition?”

      “With these prices, hopefully all of the above.”

      “I’m going to pull some options, so have a seat.” She motioned toward the large plush dressing room.

      “While I’m doing that, take off the hat, put your hair in a bun, and put on the new shoes.”

      I did as I was told.

      She returned with several gorgeous dresses.

      “Show me each one,” she said.

      I wiggled into a structured black Dolce & Gabbana. It was like a magic trick—it lifted my boobs, sucked in my waist, and accentuated my butt.

      I walked out of the dressing room.

      “Where did this body come from?” Caroline asked appreciatively, leading me to a three-way mirror. The dress created an optical illusion dress that made me look not only elegant, but sexy.

      How could I say no, even to the price tag? This dress had transformed me as much as Valerie’s makeup application.

      “So there’s your sexy, now let’s get a classic, and you’re well on your way to leaving the old you behind.”

      I smiled happily.

      I tried on a navy-blue Valentino that hugged my body in the right places without being too provocative.

      We finished the look with a strand of Chanel pearls.

      “You sure are good at your job,” I said admiringly.

      She smiled. “Just give me your credit card and you will be on your way.”

      “Oh,” I said, pulling out my wad of hundreds. “I have cash.”

      Caroline’s face fell. I was sad. I could tell she thought I was a call girl.

      “I’ll be back with the total.” Her voice was still friendly, just a little cooler. I was changing back into my clothes when she let herself into the dressing room.

      “I’m not supposed to do this, it could get me fired. But I like you and I’ve seen this town destroy young girls.”

      “I promise you, Caroline, I am not an escort or anything like that. I just had a really good run at a poker game. And that’s the truth.”

      She smiled. “That’s very cool, and much better than the answer I feared.

      “Here is my card, you call me anytime you need anything.”

      I smiled back. “Thanks for being honest, even at the risk of getting in trouble.”

      I walked out of Barneys with my new outfits, beaming from ear to ear.

      FINALLY TUESDAY CAME, and Reardon actually let me leave work at a reasonable hour this time, so I drove home to change into my new outfit.

      I was driving when my phone rang; it was one of my bosses from the club world. I was still picking up shifts when I could.

      “Hey, T.J. What’s up?”

      “I need you to work tonight,” he said. He sounded impatient. Everyone who works in the nightclub industry is always grumpy during the daytime hours.

      “I can’t,” I said. This was the first time I had ever told him no.

      “I guess you don’t value your job,” he said, his tone sharp. “There are a million girls in this town that would kill for it.”

      I thought about the money I had made last week working the game, more money in one night than I might take home in a month at the club, and I sucked in my breath and said, “Well, why don’t you call one of them, because I quit.”

      He paused, shocked. I politely thanked him for the opportunity and hung up.

      I knew I was being reckless. There was no guarantee this card game would last, but I was going to try to push it as far as I could. And it felt damn good to quit that thankless, demeaning cocktail job.

      I SHOWED UP IN MY NEW DRESS AND SHOES. I had chosen the sexier one.

      “Whoa, look at you,” Diego said, taking the bags of liquor from me. “Your tips are gonna be gooood tonight.”

      “Is it too much?” I asked

      “No way, you look hot, mama.

      “Speaking of tips, what do you want to do about that?”

      “About what?” I asked.

      “Tips,” he said. “The guys tip me throughout the game. I saw that they gave you some cash at the end. You’re always gonna make more when there’s chips involved. We can split if you want. Fifty-fifty.”

      I thought about this carefully. I had seen the guys throwing the chips into the center after winning a hand. So logic told me that ten guys tipping over the course of many hours probably translated to a lot of money, However, Reardon had made it clear that tipping me was the way to get invited back.

      “Let’s see what happens tonight and decide after the game.” I wanted to see how much he made.

      “Okay,” he said, smiling.

      Reardon walked in just then.

      “Whoaaa,” he said, laughing. “You kind of look like a piece of ass.” That was as close to a compliment as I would ever get from him.

      I

Скачать книгу