Page 59 of Pulled Away

She nods, making a “go on” motion with her hand. She’s like a freaking drill sergeant.

“Be friendly and flirty, but not too friendly and flirty.”

I’m not too sure about that one. Where exactly is the line between the two? I guess I’ll have to wing it. Trial and error, right?

“Keep the drinks flowing. The more they drink, the more they tip.” I’m encouraged by her nod. I’m killing this. “Be firm but friendly with other waitresses. If their section is quiet, they will try to encroach on mine. Shut that shit down immediately. In a friendly way.”

Here we go again with the friendly shit. But this one doesn’t have me confused. I’m quite capable of telling someone to fuck off with a smile.

“Never divulge my real name. That can lead to all kinds of issues I don’t need. Pick an alias and stick with it.”

“What’s my name?”

“Havana,” I dutifully reply.

“What’s your name?”

She’s testing me to see if I’ll hesitate. A lot of our customers are regulars and they’ll notice if you hesitate or change it.

“Hadley,” I say, not missing a beat.

It’s the first name I thought of, and it had me sniggering for hours. Petty? Maybe, but it’s my silent “fuck you” to her.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, eying my tense shoulders. “Do you need a drink to relax?”

“Nope,” I say, remembering one of her rules. If you’re too wound up, have a drink or two to relax, but don’t get sloppy drunk. Despite my promise to myself to never drink again, I’m desperate to down a shot to settle my nerves. But I’m scared if I start drinking now, I won’t stop. I’m that nervous.

She nods in approval. “You’ve got this.”

I’m thankful for her. It didn’t take me long to decide to do this—half a day, in truth, to decide between this and losing my dream. There wasn’t a choice. Not really. And it won’t be forever. Just long enough to get back on my feet and have a bit of extra cash in case of rainy days.

True to her word, when I called her, she arranged an interview with Devlan, coaching me on how to handle myself. Then, when I got the job, she took me under her wing. She sat me down and gave me the lowdown on everything. She kept an eye on me during my first few shifts while I was shadowing Lacey, giving me a thumbs-up whenever our eyes met.

I don’t know if I’d be able to do this without her.

Tonight I’m on my own. It’s my first shift by myself and I’m silently freaking out. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.

“Hey,” she says, grabbing my shoulders and looking into my eyes. “You’ve got this.”

“I’ve got this,” I parrot her, sounding unconvinced at best.

“Look at it as just your normal, run-of-the-mill waitressing job. One that tips way more.”

“That includes poles, naked bodies, and barely there clothes,” I say with a wry smile, trying to pull my booty shorts down. Just a fraction of an inch and it might cover my whole butt cheek. Pulling up my corset doesn’t work. I tried, but all it did was pop out more of my boobs.

“Exactly,” she grins.

Four hours in, and I’m killing it. Okay, maybe not killing it, but I’m handling it with a smile on my face, pain in my feet, a throb in my ears from the loud music, and a growing stack of dollar bills. I have about three and a half hours till my shift ends and four hours till I can leave, fall in bed, and sleep for about five hours before I have to get up to be at the clinic at nine.

“I think you have an admirer,” Neve says when we meet up at the bar, waiting for the bartender to complete our order. Her section is next to mine, and we must have passed each other a hundred times tonight.

I grunt, because there’s nothing I can do about it. If lingering eyes bother me, I shouldn’t be working here, dressed like this.

“No, seriously. He hasn’t looked at the dancers once. He can’t keep his eyes off you.”

An uncomfortable feeling slithers up my spine. I’m here to serve drinks. I don’t want that kind of attention.

“Which one?” I ask, keeping my head down. I want to know what he looks like, in case he might become a problem, but I don’t want to make it obvious.

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