Dreams Ltd (14 page)

It was hard to argue with that and I just nodded. I was even a little struck by how smart Jenny sounded.

“So here I am... now… also completely alone here.”

“Is there any hope for you?”

“No.”

Jenny drank her whiskey, took a pickled cucumber and crunched on it deep in thought.

“Listen, have you got a job already?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you going to get one?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“What would you like to do?”

“I don’t know yet.” I couldn’t quite grasp where the conversation going. “I can’t even imagine what I could do here; I don’t have any particular skills or talents.”

“Nobody wants your talents here. There are either factories or farms in Tally. Any sort of admin work you won’t get here, unless you know the right people, but if I remember correctly you are a hacker so it shouldn’t be a problem for you to find something decent.”

“Jenny, in truth I’m not a hacker and I have never been one.” I waved my hand, drank another shot and decided to stop with the alcohol for tonight - one more glass and I won’t be able to find my own bed.

“So you’re not a hacker?” Jenny didn’t seem that surprised.

“No.”

“Well...” she paused. “You know, I came to see you for a reason. I actually wanted to offer you a job.”

“What?” I asked without any interest.

“A job! It’s really good that you haven’t found anything yet since if you decide to change jobs you get fined.”

“Is that also a possibility?”

“Believe me, yes. So are you interested or not?”

“Ok, I’m listening.”

“I work in a men-only private club for the rich members. Two days ago a vacancy came up because one girl had left and you are a very good looking woman - slim with long hair...”

“No, no! Don’t even think...” I shook my head in denial. “I’m not going to be a hooker; I am telling you this now”

“I’m not offering you to become a hooker!” Jenny was outraged.

“I’m not gonna be a stripper or please men in any other way!”

“Don’t be silly! Just let me finish first!”

I went quiet and stared in her round eyes in suspicion.

“OK, tell me more.”

“The club where I work - is a club for the richest and most influential owners of this city, they even call themselves the “owners”. And they really do own ranches, shops, restaurants and all that.”

“So what?”

“This club is the place where they gather every evening to chat, play poker, smoke cigars and drink. The club does not provide girls for them, at least I’ve never seen such a thing and it would be great if you got a job there instead of some half-asleep creature”

“Why is that?”

Jenny almost unnoticeably shifted in her chair.

“I’ll explain more a bit later but someone you know is always better than a stranger, you see.”

I nodded slowly wondering if she was leaving something untold.

“So what exactly do I have to do there?”

“You would have to bring them drinks, take the empty glasses away, ask if they need anything else and smile.”

“Like a waitress then?”

“Yes, exactly!” she confirmed happily. “We are there mostly for decoration, like flower pots.”

“But what if someone likes the girl? How do you get out of going to bed with them?”

“Trust me, it never happens there.”

“How can you be so sure? Maybe you just haven’t seen it happen?”

“I would know, believe me.”

Something in the way she was talking made me give her words some credit but frown at the same time.

“What is your role in the club?”

She hesitated for a few seconds.

“I’m... I’m a friend of the owner of this place.”

“What do you mean?”

“At first, I was a waitress like the others but then I saw he was interested and decided not to miss out on such an opportunity. My earnings increased and the amount of work decreased, so why not?”

“Wow! I see...”

Judging by her face, Jenny couldn’t quite decide whether she should be ashamed or proud of her situation.

“It appeared that he always liked plump girls.” she added and her face turned red.

I smiled, true – there is always someone who appreciates plump ladies.

“So you’re lucky then.”

“I kind of think so too. So are you going to give it a try?”

Suddenly I felt lost.

“Erm... What if I don’t like it? Or what if something goes wrong?”

“If you don’t like it I’ll ask my friend not to fine you, so you’ll just leave.”

That sounded good and somewhat tempting.

“What if my appearance doesn’t fit?”

“You have nothing to lose, if they don’t like the way you look then you’ll just have to find another job -it’s that simple. But also bear in mind that the wages in the club are much higher than in many other places in the city, plus these guys can add the “tip” points to your bracelet if they like how you do your job.”

“That sounds good. When do I start and what do I need to bring with me?”

“Nothing really, the club owner will be waiting for you tomorrow morning. You’ll have a chat and then he’ll decide whether he wants you or not. I’ve already told him I’d speak to you.”

I sneered - I couldn’t ignore the entrepreneurial spirit of my neighbour.

“They’ll supply the uniform but the make-up is up to you.”

“I got it.”

“Great!” she concluded cheerfully. “I’ll wake you up tomorrow morning and we’ll set off together, deal?”

I was still somewhat stunned by this unexpected twist and just nodded uncertainly.

“Deal.”

“I’m off to bed now and you wanna stop drinking now and go to bed - your puffy face won’t be appreciated tomorrow.”

One glance at the whiskey was enough to make me feel sick.

Jenny briskly got up from her seat and stopped by the door.

“It would be so cool if you got this job. Then we’ll be together...”

She smiled and shut the door behind her leavening me on my own with weird thoughts.

“What are we going to do together? Have breaks and lunches together or indulge her “friend” together?”

I put the unfinished bottle and pickled cucumbers back in the fridge shaking my head. Tomorrow we will have all the answers.

“
Polo-grand” Club.

If I was to say “I didn’t like them” that wouldn’t be quite as accurate as if I was to say I felt a strong and persistent antipathy towards these sleek "owners" in their chic clothes, gold watches and their hair combed and gelled back, reminding me of peacocks. Polishing off the glasses I was carefully watching the dining room and a part of the game room from where some male’s voices and sometimes subdued laughter were heard. As soon as I am done with the glasses, the premium quality drinks will be poured in them, and the “big guys” will sip them slowly, enjoying their luxurious life while their employees bust their guts trying to earn another pathetic point.

The emotions I was experiencing at the moment didn’t come straight away but after many hours of working in the men-only private club “Polo-Grand”. It was my second week here since that day when Jenny offered me this job. They took me on with no problems but only after that friend of Jenny’s scrutinized my appearance for some time, he pronounced his compelling “yes”. Ever since then I’d been spending all hours in the elegantly furnished room decorated with leather and velvet, constantly filled with cigar smoke and only coming back to my apartment at Bell-Oak very late at night.

“Hurry up with the glasses - the customers are waiting for their drinks.” the bartender said making a passing remark and walked away to take the new orders from the waitress.

“I’m almost done.” I polished the last glass and put it on the counter. Waiting for the some drinks to be made I straightened my short skirt and fixed the flower pinned to my silk blouse which was the usual part of the waitress’s uniform at “Polo-Grand”.

Every morning on my way to work I would take in the level of poverty and dilapidation in Tally; I saw starving people and worn out hands of the mere mortals, wandering to their hated jobs in order to provide themselves with a piece of bread; whereas at the club I experienced the complete opposite of well-fed wealthy owners enjoying their luxury life style here. Seeing such a contrast on daily basis made me go through hundreds of conflicting feelings - on one hand my nerves were getting more and more shattered, on the other hand, seeing this was strengthening my self-discipline. I had to smile with a sincere friendly smile at the each randomly casted word and each meaningless phrase, saying, "yes, Sir”, "of course, Sir”, "is there anything else can I help you with, Sir?"

“There you go, brandy “Cherokee”, cognac “Vieille J'oublié”, two beers, one tequila, brandy and Sambuca. Make sure you give them to the right person.”

“Uh-huh. “ I nodded and trotted to the game room, wondering about the ingredients this Sambuca is made of. During my time at “Polo-Grand” I’ve learned how to distinguish alcohol by the colour. Getting customers’ drinks mixed up was considered to be outrages ignorance in the club. My everyday wage wasn’t massive but not too tiny either - five points, plus sometimes the customers would be very generous and tip me with some additional points. According to my calculations I discovered that considering the cost of food and other necessary things, I would need about a year or so to get out of Tally, not so bad if you think about the possibility to be stuck here for a lifetime, like many other prisoners here.

“Here are your drinks, gentlemen”. I smiled and began to carefully place the glasses next to each of eight men playing poker. They didn’t pay any attention to me since it was the time for “river” where the last and the most important card of the hand appears on the table.

“Damn you, Brennen!” said a middle-aged balding man in a dark jacket to his neighbour. “You already won all my money yesterday!”

Brennen - a fat man with a big belly and black moustache - just smiled smugly.

“What can I do if Lady Luck is on my side today?”

“I bet you bluffed! There were no two pairs in your hand!” The man in a black jacket wasn’t prepared to give up that easily.

“I’m allowed to bluff. If you’d called, you would’ve won this hand. Hey, girl, where is my cognac?”

The last phrase was thrown at me so I quickly placed a tumbler filled with amber liquid on top of a snow-white napkin next to him.

“Here is your cognac, Sir.”

“To the victory!” heralded the lucky moustached man and sipped his brandy. The others were not too keen to support his toast, perhaps because the victory was not that kind to them this evening.

As I’ve placed two beers, tequila and a Sambuca on the table I hesitated for a moment, looking for the person the last brandy was meant to be for, there were eight men at the table but only seven drinks on my tray, so which one of the last two men should I give this brandy to? I halted in confusion.

“Are you contemplating drinking my brandy?” I heard a calm deep voice coming from my left.

At once I turned around and met the eyes of the voice owner. He had short, but nicely cut and heavily sun-burnt hair, tanned skin and cold grey eyes under the dark eyebrows.

“No, Sir. Here's your brandy.” I mumbled, quickly placing the last glass next to him.” I’m ever so sorry for being so slow.”

In fact I didn’t feel any remorse but I got quite skilled at imitating the guilty babbling in order to avoid any sort of upset from the customers. I didn’t really care if they had to wait until the next spring for their drinks but if I ever wanted to leave Tally I had to oblige. So with mock politeness I simply asked if there was “anything else mister wanted” but "mister", as if he could feel the affectation in my tone, just stared at me for a while and then replied that he was “alright for the moment”.