Page 3 of Rags to Vegas

BERKLEY

Two months later…

In the three years that I spent with my ex, Nick, I had endured enough emotional and physical trauma to write a lengthy book about.

In the beginning, him telling me that I didn’t have to work and could focus on school was a dream come true.

Fresh out of high school, I couldn’t attend college like most of my classmates.

My mother had just been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer, and I chose to alternate between taking care of her and working to help hold the household down.

She lost her battle with the disease after ten months, and I was devastated.

A young woman thrust into the real world without her mother by her side to guide her was cruel.

It was actually cruel as fuck. And while I had my father, grandparents, aunts, and uncles, it wasn’t the same.

I sulked for a year and once the money from the life insurance policy was gone, reality smacked me in the face.

Hard. I needed a job. Shortly after my job search began, I started working in a warehouse.

The twelve-hour shifts were far from fun, but they put money in my pocket, especially when I was smart enough to do overtime.

Thanks to my mother’s life insurance policy, I had paid off my car.

The rent for my one-bedroom apartment wasn’t too bad.

I was nowhere near close to being financially stable, but I was doing good enough not to be homeless or hungry.

And then I met, Nick the biggest mistake of my life.

The jolly, rosy cheeked, mechanic handed my debit card to me snatching me back to the present. I hated trips down memory lane. They always altered my mood for the worst.

“Anything else I can do for you today Pretty Lady?”

I forced another smile. You can pay my rent .

“No that will be it. Thank you so much.” I took the invoice he’d printed out and left the congested waiting room that smelled of motor oil and gasoline.

My thoughts were running rampant, so caring about my surroundings wasn’t at the top of my list of priorities.

When I almost walked into a black Mercedes-Benz AMG, I stopped in my tracks.

The driver emerged from the car, and I had to literally bite my bottom lip to keep my mouth from falling open. It was him!

Crenshaw Malone. My clit ached as the memories from that night flashed through my mind like a movie.

Nick was the second guy I’d ever had sex with.

Malone was the third, and it was the best sex I’d ever had.

The way he handled my body. The way his deep, raspy, voice sounded when he spoke against my ear and let dirty words fall off his lips. The way he moaned…

The stare off between the two of us was brief, but it felt like a lifetime.

I offered an awkward smile and scurried away knowing he probably didn’t remember me anyway.

A trip to the mechanic’s to spend money that I didn’t have didn’t put me in the best mood.

My appearance reflected that. I washed my face, threw tinted moisturizer on, tossed my curls into a messy bun, and pulled on gray sweats and a wrinkled black shirt.

The blazing Las Vegas sun had my cinnamon-colored complexion a shade darker, and working long hours had my size eight frame down to a seven.

In my opinion, a seven wasn’t big, but I didn’t fit the model thin aesthetic of some of the women in Vegas.

Nor were my B cup breasts a match for most of the huge knockers I often saw.

These days, everything was about appearances.

I was only a waitress, but since my livelihood depended on tips, caring about how I looked while on the clock was necessary.

It was very rare that I went to work bare faced.

Make-up and seductive scents were a part of my uniform.

But I wasn’t at work, and my looks had been the last thing on my mind.

Suddenly, I regrated that decision, and I wasn’t even sure why.

If he was interested in me on a serious level, he probably would have approached me differently at the bar.

He wanted sex, and I did too. In hindsight, I was glad I didn’t know who he was at the time because I was nervous enough when I thought he was regular.

I did feel a little silly because there I was short on my rent money, and I’d had sex with someone worth millions and didn’t even know it.

My face burned from the shame I felt as I rushed toward my car.

As I drove off, Crenshaw became a distant thought, and my money troubles once again dominated my mind.

Being that I thought I had my rent covered, the money I made the next few days at work was supposed to go toward other bills like my car insurance, cell phone, etc.

Just when it looked like I would have room to breathe, I was probably going to have to pick up some extra shifts. Or take Sebastian up on his offer…

I chewed on my bottom lip as I navigated my Altima through the streets and contemplated working at the gentleman’s club that one of my regular customers owned.

Sebastian swore that I had what it took to make great tips in his club.

He’d been trying to get me to work there for more than a month, and I always turned him down.

The last time he recited his pitch, he added in the fact that even on a slow night I could make almost a thousand dollars in tips, and that piqued the hell out of my interest. To him, I played it cool, but I’d been thinking about those words for the past week.

I was employed at a popular restaurant on the Las Vegas strip, and the most I’d ever earned in one shift was $389.

Which wasn’t bad at all, but the rent for my apartment along with food, gas, and other necessities often had me living week to week.

Especially since there were days when I left work with less than $200.

I wasn’t a prude, so being around topless women wouldn’t bother me.

I could keep my clothes on too? For the life of me I didn’t understand why his proposition had made me so uncomfortable, but I really didn’t have a choice.

As soon as I stopped at a red light, I fished through my purse until I found the business card that Sebastian had given me.

It wasn’t the time to be modest or shy. My savings account literally had $50 in it, and I was almost $500 away from being homeless.

My credit cards were maxed out, and I didn’t have anyone to call on.

My grandparents were on a fixed income, and my father had three children under the age of eighteen with his wife.

I felt bad asking him for money. I was a twenty-seven-year-old adult and should have life figured out.

The traffic light turned green, and I pressed the gas as my heart drummed in my chest. The moment I got home, I was going to call Sebastian. How hard could working in a gentleman’s club be?

“You look so pretty,” Rachelle gushed after inspecting my face.

The fact that I was nervous didn’t really surprise me because I was always nervous my first day on any job.

But I was extra nervous for my first night at Wild Wonders .

Sebastian was elated when I called to ask him if the position was still open and just two days after calling him, I was about to work my first shift.

My rent had been paid by the grace of God.

I worked until my feet hurt in order to put the missing funds back.

I had the day off from the restaurant, and I’d spent the entire day alternating between resting and stressing.

The makeup I generally did on myself wouldn’t do.

This was different, so I recruited Rachelle to do my makeup for me.

When she stepped to the side and I had a clear view of my reflection, I had to admit that I did look pretty hot.

In fact, I was so pleased with her work that I smiled.

The foundation was blended to perfection, and I didn’t have that funeral home caked makeup effect going on.

The shade matched my skin perfectly, and I didn’t look like a clown.

Eyeshadow was something I’d never learned to do correctly, and I was in love with the smoky eye that she gave me.

The eyeliner and wispy lash extensions made my doe shaped eyes pop, and the purple-nudish color combo she did on my lips was stunning.

Once I moisturized and fluffed out my curls, I’d be able to walk into the gentleman’s club with my head held high with the confidence that I’d need to not act like a fish out of water.

My night club days were pretty much behind me.

When I did hang out with friends, it mostly consisted of brunch, lunch, dinner, wine tasting, movie theatres, bowling, or bar hopping.

My dating life had been nonexistent since relocating and though I got lonely at times, I didn’t mind too much.

I was still healing from the trauma that I endured while being with Nick.

Remaining single until the day I died was very much an option if I had to keep running into losers, abusers, liars, and cheaters.

As a teenager, I dreamed of a fairytale type wedding with the love of my life.

Eventually we would have three kids. One girl and two boys.

As I neared thirty, I had to take into consideration that those daydreams could remain just that. Dreams.

I thanked Rachelle for coming to the rescue, she wished me luck, and left.

Listening to music typically put me in a good mood, so I let the soft, melodic, sounds of R&B soothe me while I got dressed for work.

The club was almost a twenty-minute drive from my apartment, and my 8:00 shift had me leaving home an hour early because I was sure traffic was thick