Chapter 1: Introduction
The city was a beast, devouring every ounce of naivety I had left. I'd come here with dreams of making it big, of finding a job that would kickstart my career. Instead, I found myself at the mercy of a market that seemed to laugh at my resume and spit out rejection letters with a sadistic glee. My savings were dwindling, and the echo of my parents' warnings about the harsh realities of life rang louder with each passing day.
So, when the sports bar down the street hung a 'Now Hiring' sign in the window, I swallowed my pride and marched inside. The interview was quick and painless.
The manager, Rick, was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a permanent smirk and a lingering gaze. He sat across from me, his elbows resting on the table as he asked me a few questions. His eyes never left my chest, and I felt a wave of unease wash over me. But I needed this job, so I pushed past the discomfort and focused on his words, nodding and smiling in all the right places.
He handed me an application form, his fingers brushing mine just a little too long. I pulled my hand away, trying to ignore the sweat beading on my palms.
Rick didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't care. He stood up, towering over me, and walked towards the bar. "Come on, let me show you around."
The sports bar was a cavernous space filled with the aroma of stale beer and crisp fried food. Flat-screen TVs hung from every available wall, their screens flickering with sports games, and the hum of male voices filled the air. I followed Rick through the maze of tables and booths, my eyes taking in the decor: sports memorabilia, neon signs, and a sea of worn-out bar stools.
The only female presence was a lone server, her uniform barely covering her essentials. She moved gracefully through the crowd, her tray balanced expertly on one hand, a practiced smile on her face.
"Meet Mike," Rick said, gesturing to the bartender behind the polished counter. Mike was lean, with a shaved head and a friendly grin. He looked up as we approached, his eyes flicking over me in a quick, appraising glance.
"Hey, Rick. Who's this?" he asked, wiping down the counter with a cloth.
"New hire," Rick said, clapping me on the back. "Emily.
She'll be starting tomorrow," Rick said, his hand still on my back, a little too familiar.
Mike nodded, extending his hand to me. "Nice to meet you, Emily. Welcome aboard."
I shook his hand, grateful for the friendly overture after Rick's intense scrutiny. "Thanks. I'm looking forward to it."
Rick chuckled, a sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "Don't worry, Emily.
You'll fit right in," Mike said, giving me a reassuring smile. I returned the smile, hoping he was right.
Rick's phone buzzed, and he stepped away to take the call, leaving me with Mike. I took the opportunity to ask, "So, what's the uniform like? I didn't see any other women here earlier."
Mike leaned against the bar, his arms crossed. "Yeah, you'll be the only girl on staff. The uniform...well, it's not exactly conservative. But tips are good, so it evens out."
A knot formed in my stomach, but I pushed it down. I needed this job.
I couldn't afford to turn it down because of some uniform. "I can handle it," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
Mike studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Just be prepared. The customers can be... aggressive." He grabbed a menu from behind the bar and handed it to me. "Study this. You'll want to know the specials by heart."
I took the menu, grateful for the distraction. "Thanks, Mike."
Rick returned, his phone tucked back into his pocket. "Alright, Emily. Welcome to the team. Be here at noon tomorrow.
We'll get you fitted for a uniform and show you the ropes." Rick's voice was firm, his eyes lingering on my chest again. I nodded, trying to hide my discomfort.
As I turned to leave, Rick called out, "Oh, and Emily? Don't forget to dress appropriately. We want our customers to see what they're getting."
I felt my face flush, and I nodded, hurrying out of the bar. The city air was a cold slap in the face, but it was a welcome relief from the suffocating atmosphere inside.
I walked quickly, my heels clicking against the pavement, trying to put as much distance between me and the sports bar as possible. I couldn't shake off the unease that had settled in my chest. This job was supposed to be a stepping stone, a way to put some money in my pocket while I looked for something more suited to my interests. But now, I wasn't so sure. I took out my strawberry flavored vape and took a few deep drags, loving the burn in my lungs and quick nicotine hit as I exhaled.
Back in my small apartment, I tossed the menu onto the kitchen counter and leaned against the cool surface. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. The uniform, the customers, Rick's lingering gaze—it was all a lot to process.
I turned on some music to fill the silence of my apartment, but it couldn't drown out the thoughts swirling in my head. I grabbed a notepad and started jotting down the menu items, determined to prove to Rick and Mike that I was serious about this job.
The next day, I showed up at the sports bar a few minutes early, dressed in a form-fitting top and jeans. Rick was already there, leaning against the bar, his arms crossed. As I approached, he gave me a once-over, his eyes lingering on my chest before moving up to my face.
"Not bad," he said, his voice gruff.
"But we need to see more skin." He held up two uniforms, both tiny tank tops with the bar's logo plastered across the chest, accompanied by the tiniest shorts I've ever seen. "Try these on. We'll see which one works better."
I felt my cheeks burn, but I took the uniforms and headed to the staff bathroom. The first one was slightly less revealing, but the second one was practically a bra. I sighed, wishing I had more options, but I knew which one Rick would prefer. I slipped on the more modest one, but as I looked at myself in the mirror, I realized it still left little to the imagination. The shorts were even worse, riding up my ass and exposing more than half of my cheeks. I cursed myself for wearing a neon pink thong as it was more than peeking out the top of the shorts and were easily visible through the flimsy white material.
Back at the bar, Rick was waiting.
He looked me up and down, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Good choice," he said, taking the rejected uniform from my hands. "Now, let's talk tips."
I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the menu in my hand. "Tips?"
Rick leaned in, his voice low. "We have a system here. The girls, they...entertain the customers. Make them feel special."
I felt my stomach churn. "What do you mean by 'entertain'?" "You'll see.
Just trust me," he said, a glint in his eye that made me feel even more uneasy. "Now, let's get you started. Mike!" he called out, and Mike appeared in an instant, a clean towel draped over his shoulder.
"Rick, what's up?" Mike asked, his eyes flicking between Rick and me.
"Emily's all set with her uniform," Rick said, a smug smile on his face. "Let's get her behind the bar. Show her the ropes."
Mike nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at me. "Alright, come on.
Let's get you started," Mike said, leading me behind the bar. I followed him, grateful for his friendly demeanor after Rick's unsettling words. Mike grabbed a tray and placed it on the counter. "First things first, you need to know how to balance this like a pro. Here, let me show you."
He demonstrated, stacking glasses and bottles on the tray with practiced ease. I watched, trying to commit each step to memory. Mike handed me the tray, his hands brushing mine. "Your turn."
I took a deep breath and started stacking. The tray wobbled, and I felt my cheeks flush. Mike reached out, steadying the tray with one hand.
"Easy there, newbie. You'll get the hang of it." He flashed me a reassuring smile, and I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. At least someone here was friendly.
"Thanks, Mike," I said, taking a deep breath and trying again. This time, the tray stayed steady. I looked up at Mike, a small smile playing at the corners of my mouth. "See? I can do this."
Mike chuckled, a warm sound that made me feel at ease. "That's the spirit. Now, let's get you familiar with the menu.
You've got it memorized, right?" Mike asked, flipping through the pages of the menu. I nodded, reciting the specials under my breath as I followed along. "Good. Now, let's talk drinks. We've got a full bar, but most of our customers stick to the basics: beer, shots, and mixed drinks. Here's what you need to know—"
Mike launched into an explanation of the bar's most popular drinks, his hands moving quickly as he poured and mixed with practiced ease. He handed me a glass filled with a frothy, amber liquid. "Here, try this.
It's a classic," Mike said, pushing the glass towards me. I took a tentative sip, my lips curling at the taste of sweet and tangy alcohol. "It's good," I said, swallowing the drink down. "What is it?"
Mike smiled. "It's a Rum and Coke. Simple, but effective. Now watch this," he said, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar and pouring it into a glass.
He added a splash of soda water and ice cubes, then handed me the drink. I took a sip, the burn of whiskey hitting my throat before it smoothed out into something warm and comforting.
"Cheers," I said, raising my glass to Mike.
He clinked his glass against mine, a grin spreading across his face.
"Cheers," he replied, taking a swig of his drink. "Alright, what's your favorite shot?" he asked. After telling him tequila he poured me a double and watched expectantly as I threw it down. Without realizing it I had consumed 4 strong alcoholic drinks in just a few minutes and I would definitely be feeling the effects soon.
"Alright, enough with the lessons. Let's get you some real-world experience."
Mike led me out from behind the bar, and I took my first real look around the sports bar. It was busier than I'd expected, filled with men of all ages, their eyes glued to the TV screens or their phones. A few of them looked up as we approached, their gazes lingering on me a little too long.
Mike seemed to notice, his hand briefly touching the small of my back as he guided me towards a table filled with rowdy customers.
"Alright, Emily, this is your first table. Be friendly, smile, and make sure they're taken care of."
I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. "Got it," I said, stepping up to the table.
The men looked up as I approached, their eyes taking in my uniform with obvious appreciation. One of them, a burly man with a beer belly and a thick beard, smiled at me, his eyes lingering on my chest.
"Well, hello there," he said, his voice booming above the din of the bar.
"Hi," I replied, forcing a smile onto my face.