Page 9 of Scarred King

I go back to the bar. More men are entering and I can hear footsteps on the staircase as well. The men that I served at the beginning of the evening are all coming down, one after another, with satisfied expressions on their faces as they walk towards the exit. Several minutes later the girls come down as well. They’re wearing the same clothes they did earlier, and they go to the restroom together. Once again, they come out with glazed expressions, sniffing and rubbing their noses. Every girl sits down at a different table as each new man sits down next to a girl they want to be entertained by. Some entertainment. I fight down the rising nausea and go back to waitressing, using the same tactics that was so successful earlier. This time I suggest a different expensive drink, and once again I'm nailing it.

When I put the drinks down on the blonde and her new customer’s table, I see that she is smiling oddly, more artificial than before. The man’s fingers are pinching her arm. Her face tightens for a moment and then her smile reappears.

“That’s how I like it. Rough,” the chubby, bald man says with satisfaction and pinches her again. I cringe.

“I like it like that too,” she says, managing to keep the smile on her face. I stare at her in disgust. “Get out of here,” she whispers quietly, and I get a hold of myself and escape back to the bar.

It has nothing to do with me. I shake my head hard, trying to get rid of thoughts about what will await the blonde upstairs.

The room empties again, and I use this time to look through my textbooks again. An hour later the room fills up again and I start to feel exhausted.

I go over to the twins table and place glasses of wine, with napkins.

“Who are my bitches?” The handsome young man sitting with them asks suddenly, and my fingers clutch around the third napkin. He leans toward one of them and grabs her chin. “Who?” he raises his voice.

“We’re your bitches,” they chorus together and giggle.

“Right answer.” He pulls the napkin from me and wipes his forehead. “You just remember that I paid a lot of money for you to say that when you’re sucking my di…” A moan escapes my throat and he falls silent. All three of them are looking at me in horror. I mutter a quick apology and make my way back to the bar. It has nothing to do with me, I recite myself over and over and continue serving drinks. This time I don’t linger at any of the tables.

When the third round is over, no one else comes into the bar.

The girls sit around the tables and chat cheerfully as I bring each one of them the drink she asked for. They don’t invite me to join them or try to talk to me. The large steel door leading to the dance club opens, and Carly and Mike join Scarface and Ralph at the round table. Several minutes later Tommy joins them as well. It suddenly seems as if the evening is only beginning, but I am so tired that I can’t even hide my yawns that are growing rapidly.

“All clear!” the bouncer shouts from the entrance. The girls leave, and so does everyone else except Ralph and Scarface. They say goodbye with a handshake and as I'm cleaning the last table Ralph stops next to me.

“You really do amuse me,” he says with a smile, looking so fresh and energetic as if he’s just woken up after a good night’s sleep, “and I do love challenges.” He taps on the table in front of me and leaves.

“Liam, I’m going!” Charlie shouts from the bar and waves goodbye to me. “Girlie, you did good today,” he calls out and disappears behind the heavy front door.

I put my cleaning cloth down on the bar and pick up my backpack. “I’m leaving too.” I walk over to Scarface’s table and he raises his eyes from the file and looks at me.

“Elena, sit down with me for a minute,” he asks, and I collapse on the seat opposite him. “You did a great job today,” he says kindly and I'm hypnotized by the angelic side of his face. He is so beautiful from this angle….

“Thanks,” I answer with satisfaction and yawn. “My tips weren’t bad, either.” I wave a wad of bills in front of his face.

He studies me curiously. “How did you manage to memorize the menu in less than a minute and calculate the total sum of the debts so quickly?”

“I have a phenomenal photographic memory.” I put my hand over my mouth and yawn again. “It’s a rare phenomenon but does exist. I’m proof of that. I just need a quick glance and the data is locked inside my head, forever.” I run my hands through my hair and see that he is staring at me in wonder. “And as for the quick calculations, that’s just a skill that I've developed, and helps me in my studies.” I stand up and smooth down my dress.

“Don’t come back tomorrow!” His tone changes and becomes aggressive, I stare back at him in confusion.

“But I thought that…”

“This is not a place for you,” his voice softens.

“But the money is good and I really, really need the money.”

“Elena,” he stands up in front of me and I raise my head, and again, my eyes are flitting between the beastly side and the angelic side of his face. “This is the worst place to be in when you need money.” He takes the file off the table and disappears upstairs.

7

I wipe myself dry and look at myself in the mirror in my closet. My fair skin glistens as drops of water run down slowly. My hand skims from my neck to the curve of my backside. I am not slender like Johanna, food has always been a comfort to me. It doesn’t matter, my mother says that a woman should have a full body and that men prefer to have something to hold onto. I examine my full breasts and feel dirty. Even the second shower I took this morning hasn’t taken away and cleaned the filthy feeling from last night.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should stay away from that place where they use women like objects. I’m absolutely appalled, and I can’t understand how I survived a whole night there. And the ease… the unbearable ease with which a man who just met me for the first time could suggest that I sell him my body, as if I were a piece of meat sold in a market.

I braid my hair like always, dress in baggy jeans and a T-shirt and hurry to the university. Even though I feel exhausted, which is the result of only three hours of sleep, I can’t suppress my enthusiasm for the school day ahead.

Johanna is already seated in the auditorium. I push my way through a lot of students until I reach the empty chair beside her. “Where were you all night?” she asks me irritated. “If I hadn’t found you in your bed this morning, I would have called the police.”

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