Opening Acts

  *** ***

  Having a job, and being expected to show up somewhere at a certain time, was a novelty, but the structure wasn't entirely unpleasant. The uniform - which consisted of rather tight shorts, a little apron, and nothing else - initially made her uncomfortable, but after a few hours the first night she hardly noticed her own nudity. She had little in common with the other waitresses, and didn't spend much time talking to them, but she shared their universal dislike for the dancers, who looked down on the waitresses as inferior beings.

  Nobody ever mentioned Jenny, and Marla didn't bring her up, either.

  The clientele was as boorish as she'd expected. At first she made an effort to smile at them, but soon realized that the few men (and occasional women) who paid attention to her at all didn't look much higher than her chest anyway, so she allowed herself to be impassive or scowl as much as necessary.

  The tips were pretty good, though, at least on weekends. At the end of her first week, when it was clear she wasn't a drunk, a thief (at least in this context), or a drug addict, Rollo got her a room in a run-down apartment nearby, the kind of place with one shared bathroom per floor and a hotplate on a table for a kitchen. But it came with a bed and a dresser and it was hers.

  Customers occasionally swatted her ass as she went by, and she learned, to her annoyance, that the bouncer was unwilling to throw them out for that, though he'd warn them to keep their hands to themselves. Marla consoled herself by wishing horrible deaths upon them, but resisted the urge to assault anyone.

  Until one Saturday night, after about a month working at the bar, the best man at a bachelor party full of merry twentysomethings grabbed her as she was going by, knocking the tray from her hands as he pulled her into his lap. He reached around with both hands to grab her breasts, laughing raucously in her ear, and even though Marla saw the bouncer coming her way, she didn't wait.

  Marla stomped his instep with her heel, threw her head back - he gasped, and she felt his nose crunch - and seized his hands, twisting his thumbs back as hard as she could as she stood up. "No touching," she said, and half the club applauded while the other half, including the rest of the bachelor party, gaped.

  "You bitch," the best man said, clutching his bloody nose, "I'll beat the shit out of you - "

  The bouncer put a big hand on the man's shoulder, and said, gently, "You want her to hurt you worse? Time to go, pal." He hustled the whole group out of the bar, and Marla smoothed down her hair and squatted to pick up her tray - she didn't feel like bending over and giving the room a nice look at her ass.

  When she stood up, a fat guy with a comb-over and a cigar in his fingers beckoned to her. "Come here, would you?"

  Marla had seen him before a few times, drinking Scotch and watching the dancers and not causing any fuss, but she'd never waited on him, and didn't have a good sense of whether he was an asshole or not. "Why, you want some of what that guy got?"

  He was a red-faced guy, and his face got redder when he laughed. "Nah, just come here, sit down."

  Marla shook her head. "My boss won't like - "

  "Kid, I'm your boss. I'm Artie Mann. This is my joint."

  "Oh," Marla said. "Am I fired? For hitting that guy?"

  "Don't make it a habit, but no, you're not fired. You had some cause. Sit and talk to me." Marla joined him, secretly happy to be off her feet for a little while. Artie stared fixedly at her breasts while he spoke, which didn't do much to endear him to her. "How long you been working here?"

  "A few weeks."

  "What made you come into this place?"

  She shrugged. "My friend Jenny said you were hiring."

  "Jenny. Jenny Click?"

  "Yeah. She used to work here?"

  Artie nodded.

  "But now she's… moved up in the organization?" Marla figured this had to be the crime boss, the guy Jenny wanted to meet.

  "Sure," Artie said. "You're a friend of hers, huh?" He looked at her speculatively. "You seemed to know what you were doing, cracking that guy's nose, stomping his foot, like that. Somebody teach you?"

  "There was a guy who used to hassle me, back home, so my brother showed me a few things, to take care of myself." That guy had hassled her one too many times, and things had gotten out of hand, and now he wouldn't ever hassle her or anyone else again - but that wasn't something she wanted to talk about, or even think about.

  "Pretty tough, kid. What's your name?"

  "Marla."

  "I think Jenny mighta mentioned you. When's your next night off?"

  "Tomorrow," she said.

  "Listen. You want to come over to my house, maybe have some dinner, and see Jenny?"

  Marla's resisted the urge to sigh. So that was the explanation. Jenny hadn't "moved up in the organization" - she'd just moved in with the boss, who had doubtless paid for her hair, her clothes, and to clean up her scarred hands. And, what, now he wanted Marla to join his harem or something? "I don't know…"

  "Don't say no to the boss," he said, mock-sternly.

  "I guess it'd be good to see Jenny again." If he tried anything on her, she could just walk away. And if he didn't want her to walk away, she could persuade him. Breaking two noses in two days would be a new record for her.

  "It's a deal," he said. "Come over here around six, I'll have a car waiting. Now go earn some money."