Last night I sat in a booth at a diner that’s open twenty-four hours. I could only afford one cup of coffee, but luckily for me, the staff didn’t ask me to leave.
I caught them giving me pity glances several times, and the waitress even refilled my coffee for free and brought me a slice of pie.
As much as I appreciate it, I feel miserable and hopeless.
Yesterday, I went to see the owner of the room I wanted to rent. I asked her if she would let me stay there for a week while I figured things out, but she got angry and told me to stop wasting her time and take a hike.
The wheels of my suitcase aren’t going to last much longer as I drag the bag behind me while I walk from business to business in the hopes of getting a job.
When I get shown the door for the umpteenth time today, my heart sinks to my feet and desperation claws at my throat.
I’m screwed! God, this can’t be happening to me.
How am I homeless and jobless?
I dig my phone out of my handbag and contemplate begging my family for help. Or even Elise.
As I stare at the black screen, I can’t bring myself to type the desperate messages.
“We’re going to be late for the audition!” someone suddenly says near me, her voice filled with excitement.
I glance at the two women as they rush past me. They’re dressed like they’re ready for a night out on the town.
“I heard you can make up to ten thousand on a Friday or Saturday from tips alone, and if there’s a private party, that can easily jump to twenty grand. That’s how Charlene paid for law school.”
Holy shit, that’s a lot.
The mention of money has my ears perking up, and when I see them heading toward the club on the corner, I realize I’m not far from Mitchell’s Construction.
“Girl, I’d fuck the wrinkliest old man alive for that kind of money,” the other woman says.
Yeah, I don’t know about that, but I’m exhausted and desperate enough to try stripping.
Once the thought crosses my mind, my feet start moving, and I follow the women to a side entrance.
When they stop to talk with an old man, my heartbeat speeds up, but then I take in their sexy dresses and high heels.
Shit!
Glancing down at my jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers, my heart sinks again.
Ugh, I look like something the cat dragged in.
The old man lets the two women enter before looking at me with an arched eyebrow. When I say nothing, he grumbles, “Are you here to audition?”
“Ah…” My tongue darts out to wet my dry lips. “Yes.” It comes out sounding more like a question rather than an answer.
His eyes flick up and down my body, and when it looks like he’s going to tell me to take a hike, I beg, “Please, I just want a chance. I need the money.”
“I don’t run a charity,” he mutters. “Name?”
“Ah…Laurie.” I pause to clear my throat. “Laurie Barnes.”
“ID,” he grumbles.
I quickly dig the card out of my wallet and show it to him.
After he glances at it, he thankfully jerks his chin, indicating for me to enter.