The Jewel Box Read Online Free PDF Page A

this guy.” Kat frowned and handed me the tequila, before questioning the number of pain meds I used. I lied to my best friend. I was taking more than the recommended daily dose. After downing my tequila, I slipped out of the dressing room and somehow endured the embarrassing walk to the waitress station, wishing the dim lights were dimmer so the sheerness of my top would be less conspicuous. Wesley met me with another shot of tequila.
    “There’s hardly any customers, so lemme show you the dance routine.” Kat grabbed the back of my top, pulling me through the club. She set her tray on a table, plugged quarters into the jukebox, and stepped onto the tiny, round stage to begin dancing. Choosing
Backfield in Motion
for obvious reasons, Katie as “Laura” gyrated her shapely derriere at the few men present, then turned and gazed into their eyes, rolling her shoulders provocatively. As the song ended, she shook her ample chest before bending over to flaunt her fanny. I felt embarrassed to the core of my being as I watched her dancing almost naked in front of these guys. She stepped off the stage without a modicum of modesty, and shouted my direction. “Go wait tables while I freshen up, cutie.” I momentarily lost my ability to breathe. I self-consciously walked around the small club checking for drink orders, but if customers attempted small talk, response of any sort failed to cross my lips as my brain inked their beverage choices. I waited nervously at the waitress station until Kat came back. “You need to get on the stage and practice dancing before the club gets busy.”
    “Oh no, I can’t!” My head shook a frantic “No” as the rest of me stood petrified.
    “C’mon, cutie. Go-go dancing is nothing compared to what strippers have to do. Those girls wear elaborate getups and undress down to the bare essentials by ripping off long gloves with their teeth and such. And theydance about ten minutes. We just have to jiggle around on that little stage for one song.”
    Wesley rushed over and compassionately poured two more shots of tequila down me.
    “This is it girl.” Kat plugged quarters in the jukebox, selected
I Heard It Through the Grapevine
by Marvin Gaye, and shoved me onto the stage.
    Nightmare! Phenaphen, tequila and frazzled nerves had my head spinning, and my rubbery legs barely made contact with the little stage before I fainted. Kat fanned my face. Wesley ordered me to try again. Beau showed concern. “Just wait tables, baby. We’ve got dancers traipsing in now.” I thanked him, and vowed to make it through the dreadful night. How would I ever “get hip” to this scene?
    Wesley stayed the entire evening, constantly bugging me by asking how much I was making. I had turned tons of bills into twenties, but was amazed at closing when I counted two hundred and forty dollars. “Talk about the inequities in life,” I said to Beau. “Education certainly isn’t necessary for making money in this place. My last job didn’t pay this much a month.”
    “Don’t you know the world is a glass dictionary?” he asked.
    “Ah, a man who quotes philosophy is usually sincere.”
    “Nay, nay young child.” Beau offered a quick wink. “Even the devil can quote texts.”
    “Pleeease, Beau. . . don’t shatter my dreams about poetic men.”
    “I’m just quoting Emerson. Translated it means if you open your eyes and pay attention, you’ll always learn something new. Educate yourself.” He flipped on the overhead lights, revealing a slightly stained carpet and other flaws previously hidden by soft lighting.
    “Jeez, Beau.” I covered my eyes. “Next time warn me before you turn on the bright lights. I prefer illusions.”

    By my third day things were getting easier, but nowhere near good—much less great. Wesley’s hotel room wasn’t far from Kat’s, but I spent more time with her and only saw him midway through my work shift. On our fourth day of hanging out, Kat persuaded me to lighten my