Thursday, March 31, 2005

Long Legs and a Smile

Jane returned from wherever just as I was finishing putting on my face. She didn’t come looking for me—at least I had something to be thankful for. I had smoked out my eyes and pulled back only the very top of my hair.

I went back to my bedroom and pulled on the long coat I had laid out. I picked up my purse to leave just as my bedroom door opened. I turned raising an eyebrow. There was a girl staring at me who sure as hell wasn’t Jane. She had long dark hair with severe bangs and bull ring hanging from her nose.

“Who the fuck are you?”

I put my purse over my shoulder and cocked my head.

“Savannah” I said it sweetly without an answer to her challenge.

“Where the fuck is my shit?”

“I suggest you talk to Jane about that.”

She started to walk toward the dresser.

“Do you want the dresser?”

She stopped and looked at me.

“I want my shit.”

“Then I suggest you talk to Jane.”

I narrowed my eyes letting her know that I wasn’t in the mood.

She went for it.

Well Goddamn Sonofabitch.

I grabbed a fistful of hair and swung her around so she was facing me again.
She lashed on trying to hit me.

“I suggest you talk to Jane.”

I pushed her toward the door still holding her hair. She cussed at me with a sad degree of impotence.

“Fuck you, you fucking whore.”

“Honey, I don’t even know you.”

I had dragged her as far as the living room when the front door opened. Jane entered, wearing glasses and holding a shopping bag. Her face fell. I let the lover go and walked past Jane. I was late for work and didn’t have time for this shit.

At work I found the place in near chaos, Shack had fallen down after work last night and broken his wrist. I shrugged, the fucker didn’t do anything anyway. More tips for me.

Looking forward to being alone behind the counter, I ended up with Don. Freaky quiet Don who creeped into my thoughts even when I wasn’t here. I was tense and he knew it.

“Whats wrong”

I was wiping down the counter so hard that muscles looked like they were straining.

“Got a lot on my mind.”

I quickly changed the subject.

“How long has it been since you tended the bar?”

“I was filling in until I hired you?”

I nodded and kept wiping down the counter. The seats were mostly full of people drinking water and soda, waiting for the real action to start and their friends to arrive.

Jesus, I could damn near hear that fuckers brain working as he moved around me.

I had forgone the titty top and was wearing a simple hot pink muscle shirt and jeans. I had adorned my ears with crystal covered hoops that I had picked up in a thrift store. A fake rose tattoo decorated my right bicep and so far had fooled a few.

As the crowed started trickling in I went on autopilot, disturbed by my hyper awareness of the short fucker working the bar with me. My salvation came through the door at exactly 11:03.

Not particularly good looking, he walked with an attitude that said otherwise. When he stepped up to the bar and ordered a Bud my lips couldn’t help but curl into a smile. He didn’t speak, he drawled and played with the Sierra Nevada cap I had left on the bar.

He hung around drinking his beer and watching me. Jesus I needed this…

He caught my hand and hour later as I picked up his empty draft glass.

“What’s your name dawlin?”

I bit my lip and shifted to my other foot.

“Savannah”

He smiled.

“You from Georgia, Savannah?”

“Many moons and drinks ago.” I replied.

He smiled and drank from the fresh beer I put in front of him.

By three I was tangled up in the sheets with him in my former Lesbian bed. We had christened it three times. I didn’t realize until he started snoring, that I was painfully sober and had a stranger in my bed.

Friday, March 25, 2005

Cleaning House

What the fuck? How did I get here, San Francisco with a Goddamn lesbian for a roommate. She was in the bathroom telling me her life story. I watched her from down the hall not wanting to get to close. She looked at herself in the mirror as she scrubbed her face-as if she didn’t know where it was.

It was 3:00 am and I wanted nothing more than to curl up on the sofa and sleep. When she emerged from the bathroom she showed me my room. My room? It didn’t sound right. The room was small with a large window that had a great view of the building next door, the only furniture was an unmade bed and a dresser.

“It belonged to my ex, she left everything when she moved out so I sold everything but the bed and chest of drawers.”

“Good enough for now:” I shrugged my shoulders as if I was used to better.

I walked into the room and collapsed on my bed. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as soon as my face hit the mattress. It was too fresh…everything smelled clean. I inhaled deeply. Lemon, wax and some other cleaning product I didn’t recognize.

“When did your girlfriend leave you?”

“Day before yesterday, I went out last night to celebrate the purge.”

Shit, for once I kept my mouth shut and didn’t say it out loud.

I scooted all the way on the bed, sat up and took off my boots. She was still watching me.

“Got any sheets?”

Jane tucked her behind her ear and disappeared she returned with sheets, a towel and a bar of soap. Too bad there was no food, because I was fucking hungry again.

Jane yawned “ I’ll show you the rest in the morning, I’m tired.”

With that she turned on her heel and left me alone. I looked at the towel and soap, scooping them up I headed into the bathroom—I took a lonbg much need shower. Both arms were sticky up to the elbow, and itchy.

I washed away the borrowed makeup and lotion and realized that tomorrow I needed to get supplies.

I went back to the bedroom, made the bed and fell into a deep sleep. I woke up at noon to Jane standing in front of me with coffee in a paper cup.

“Hi, don’t feel bad I just woke up an hour ago.”

I pushed myself up, the room was filled with light and I was lying sideways on the pink floral sheets. I wiped the drool from my face and took the coffee from Jane’s oustreched hand.

“Thanks”

I took a sip and nearly spit it out—cream and sugar. I just didn’t see the point of ruining a good cup of coffee. I drank it anyway.

Jane stood there drinking her coffee her eyebrow raised as she zipped.

Fuck, I pulled the sheet up. I was butt naked.

Jane smiled and walked out of the room without saying anything. I guess the show was over.

I pulled on my Jeans, wife beater and boots. I forgot to buy frigging underwear. Limping into the living room I found Jane curled up reading the paper with her shoes off.

“Do you have any paper?”

She got up and handed me a note pad.”

“Pen”

She handed me one, smiling over her coffee again.

“What did you say happened to your clothes?”

“My asshole boyfriend burned them.”

It was true but that had been nearly six months ago in Denver. He came home and I was high, passed out on the couch. That isn’t what pissed him though—the fact that I was naked and my dealer was lying on the floor next to the couch is what pissed him off.

It was too bad really, I really liked Gabe but he had a bad temper. I hadn’t even gotten busy with the dealer. We had been drinking and smoking and things just got a bit out of control.

Oh well.

“I see.”

“Do you need to borrow some?”

“No, I am going shopping today.”

“Where?”

I shrugged and walked back into my room. I had added another 300 dollars to the wad the old lady gave me.

I knew it wouldn’t be like that every night. I pulled out 1500 dollars and walked back to where Marie was sitting on the couch. I handed her 500 and told her I would be back later.

“Do you need a coat?”

I stopped with my back to her, and shifted to my other foot.

“Please”

She came back with a heavy hooded sweatshirt. I put it on, while I was zipping it up I got Jane looking at me again.

“It goes with your outfit.”

I looked down at it, it was black with white writing on it that I didn’t bother to read.

“Thanks”

I walked out the front door without a clue where I was going.

I found myself in Walgreens, with a basket full of goodies.

Mascara, lipstick, gloss, liner, foundation, plain lotion, lotion with shimmer in it, bar soap, liquid soap—Loreal, Revlon, Max Factor, Cover Girl. I stopped myself before I was completely out of control. I still needed clothes.

Instead of going back downtown I wandered into the Haight. I bought a hodge podge of thrift store clothing and new stuff. By the time I was finished I couldn’t carry it all, I had to flag down a cab. I was lightheaded and had to be at work in two hours.

Monday, March 21, 2005

Dirty Boots and Jane


Posted by Hello
No one could see my boots behind the bar, but they were bugging the shit out of me. The edges were still slightly caked with dirt from my trek in Nevada and the fancy jeans I had on kept dragging on the liquor stained floor then mixing with the dirt, I couldn’t help but think that they were being ruined.

It was still early, but the Pink Pussy was full of customers who were more than willing to buy the overpriced drinks. I arched my back without thinking and suddenly was face to face with a throng of men who only moments before were interested in the band. I wiped their glasses, poured their shots and squeezed limes in their beers. So far I only had two offers to lick the juice off my fingers.

The room was noisy mix of people who thought blending the forties and fifties clothing, tattoos and piercings was a good idea. I just didn’t get it—one girl had plugs the size of quarters in her ear, a lip and nose piercing plus full tattoo sleeves on each arm. She was wearing a swing dress and had a Betty Paige haircut. It was butt fucking ugly if you asked me.

I served them, Gin and Tonics, Manhattans, Bloody Mary’s, Martini’s and Gibson’s. I smiled, winked, and gave them advice on their love life. They ate my words with their drinks, and kept ordering more.

The band on stage was doing a poor imitation of Lionel Hampton & his Orchestra, no one danced—they just kind of swayed clutching their drinks—there wasn’t room to dance anyway.

All that bastard Shack did was talk. It would be a stretch to say he pulled more than a couple of drafts and mixed four our five drinks. I didn’t give a shit though, my I had pocketed so many tips that both pockets were bulging.

A female customer pushed through the men standing in front of me. She was pretty, with a short blonde bob and bright green eyes—she was only marred by one piercing in her lip. She set her tits on the bar and smiled—when I didn’t take the bait, she quickly righted herself and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"What can I make for you?" She looked around indecisive.

Two men who were obviously here for the novelty approached the bar. They were both wearing chinos and button down striped shirts. One of them signaled me with is finger. The blonde rolled her eyes.

"Go ahead" she smiled again.

"Uh, babe, I’ll I have a gin and tonic, and my friend will have a…" he turned to his friend who was busy looking at my tits.

"What’ll you have man?"

His friend finally answered without removing his eyes. "A beer"

I raised my eyebrow, pulled a Pabst—the cheapest crap we had and mixed up the Gin and Tonic.

I pulled a matches out of my back pocket, poured a shot of gin and set it on fire.

Chinos eyes widened. The flame was virtually invisible.

"On the house, and don’t forget to blow."

He quickly blew out the flame, vapor trailed up from the drink. The girl was grinning from ear to ear, and she finally ordered a Cosmopolitan.

By the end of the evening she was my new roommate—her name was Jane and I wasn’t to sure how the whole Lesbian think was going work out but it was worth a shot.

Friday, March 04, 2005

Help Wanted

Posted by Hello

The cabbie kept eyeballing me from in the review mirror, I ignored him and told him to drive slower. I looked around, there were targets everywhere but they weren’t quite right. As the cabbie turned on Harrison, the one I had been waiting for was suddenly before me like a gleaming beacon. I had barely been in the cab twenty minutes.

I paid the cabbie, when he asked me for a date I told him to see me when he was off. If he had enough money I would play. The place wasn’t exactly a bright spot on the street and the neighborhood didn’t look like the best, but it had potential.

I doubted if the neon HELP WANTED sign was for real—probably just a bid to draw people in but it was worth a try. The door was propped open a couple of inches, I bumped it with my hip and stepped in making an entrance that wasn’t necessary… There was no one on the other side.
The room was bathed in a soft light, but it still showed me enough. The floor was grubby cement that had been painted over a dozen times. Pink, red, gray…they had tried them all. I heard someone coming, heavy footfalls moving with quick deliberation. I made myself walk in further, I set down my bag in a nearby chair and waited.

The door directly across me opened, a young man stepped through it—he was about half the size of his footsteps and was carrying two trays of glasses and flat of soda.. Small and wiry he had a shaved head and Buddy Holly glasses. I watched his arms flex with weight, but he didn’t seem strained. He glanced at me and continued over to the bar that snaked around the wall to my right.

A large neon on sign behind the counter said "The Pink Pussy", the outline of woman with a cat tail and ears straddled the P’s in the sign. He set the goods down and turned his attention to me. He didn’t speak—which immediately unnerved me—he simply stared. He closed the distance between us and I realized that I had lost my voice as well.

"I saw the help wanted sign."

He didn’t laugh, or smile.

"Where have you worked?"

His voice was deep and silky, I tightened my body up at the sound my arms covered in goose bumps and was sure that he noticed.

I rattled off a list of bars and cities. I saw the doubt in face and waited.

"Whiskey Sour"

"Fresh or that mix shit."

I didn’t mean to curse, he smiled.

Fresh.

1 whole lemon squeezed, 2 oz of whiskey customers choice, 2 tsp. confectioners sugar, garnish with a lemon slice and a cherry.

He rattled of a series of drinks, to which I quickly laid out the recipes.

When can you start?

Tonight

He looked me up and down.

"What your wearing is fine, but you won’t survive in those shoes."

I have others.

He stepped closer.

"May I ask a personal question?"

I was about to tell him to fuck off, then my curiosity got the better of me.

"How old are you?"

I shifted from one foot to the other.

"29"

Two hours, and ten pages of lies later I was working behind the bar under my legitimate name. The other bartender, who went by Shack and three waitresses had all arrived as Don was showing me around. The waitresses were younger than me, at least the looked like they were, Shack was in his forties and Don I found out was 31. They little barmaids were sitting down waiting for the after work crowed to start teetering in and eyeing me. Every once and a while they would giggle or lean over to each other and whisper with a hand covering their mouths.
I didn’t give a shit. I had all of them on any given day—the best looking one was a train wreck compared to me.

At exactly 4:07 PM the first group of customers walked through the door.
Show time.