for work and hired me with barely any past experience.
My problem is the men I work around. They make Kent look like a gentleman. They’re always grabbing on me, making rude comments, and giving me that disgusting leer men give you when they’re horny. I have to turn down the masses every shift. I almost considered quitting when Liam Tess grabbed a handful of my behind and made the men at his table cackle. Most of the girls who work at Oblivion were used to it, and they’re a lot tougher, like my sister Becca. They have no problem telling men where to go. I, on the other hand, have never been bold. Working at Oblivion was probably the worst choice for me, but the pay is acceptable and there are nights where the tips make it worth the hassle.
I adore Becca, and oftentimes I envy her free-spirited personality, but she’s already questioning her choice of an art degree. Her indecisiveness has always given me a headache. My job may not be my dream, but it’s steady. I can rely on it. Becca takes great joy in pushing the limits, in seeing how far she can go before she fails. Our tastes are dissimilar. She craves tattoos, piercings, and boys like Kent. She even wants to open a tattoo shop with her on and off again boyfriend, but every time they get close she does what she always does.
She changes her mind, exchanging one impassioned idea for another, leaving a trail of forgotten dreams following behind her.
I rarely dream and do not appreciate the image of those forgotten dreams coming back to haunt me.
I fear she will end up like both our parents, a future I’ve been running from for years. Everything I’ve done this far in my life was an attempt to protect myself from ever being them. I don’t make choices that might fail. Like going to college. What if I drop out? And men? What if they end up being like my father? I’m sure there are warning signs, but sometimes those things are ignored in the face of pretty eyes and a killer smile.
So far men have never been an issue.
I get out of the shower and wrap my body in a towel, shaking off my unpleasant thoughts. As I do I hear the distinctive bass of rap music explode from the living room. I start shaking my ass and open the door, dancing in the hall.
Kent walks by. “Be careful. Your towel might fall.” He looks at me intensely, almost as if he’s willing the white towel to fall to my feet.
I dance harder, shaking my hips to the side to prove my towel is wrapped around me tightly.
“I’m okay,” I assure him.
He looks disappointed.
I dance all the way to my bedroom and close the door. Pig. I drop my towel and grab a pair of panties and matching bra from the pile I managed to scrape from Camden’s front lawn. Thinking of my things out in the open makes me nervous. I have this feeling I’m going to have to pull double shifts at Oblivion to replace them. That means more men, more looks, and large, uneven fake smiles. I’m terrible at flirting. The other girls make obscene amounts of money flirting with the men who come in. I make good tips, but I’ve seen girls walk away with five hundred a night over touching a guy’s arms. I’m not willing to employ their methods for more money. With the rent now I’ll have three hundred and some change for my living expenses. It will be cutting it close, but so far I’ve done that my entire life.
My clothes smell like grass from being thrown on the lawn. I spray my favorite perfume on my skinny jeans and my black lace peplum shirt. My breasts poke out of the low-cut top. Kent said sexy. I roll my eyes at myself in the mirror as I straighten my hair. I need to do something different with my life if my only option is being a wing-woman to some sexy manwhore.
When I emerge from my bedroom Kent has changed into a pair of blue jeans and a long-sleeve black shirt. He smells like spice and whiskey as he passes me in the hall. As he does, he looks me over, particularly my breasts.
“Hot,” he congratulates. “I put a shot on the counter for you. If you want more, pour me one too. We’re a team, all