Page 9 of Find Me

“Okay let’s do this!” He grins. “Come with me to the office. I’ll get you to read and sign the contract, I’ll explain the rules, and give you a tour of the place.”

“Amazing, thank you!” I say earnestly, trying to maintain my composure as excitement and relief bubble within me.

Mike gets off his chair and begins walking down another hallway, I follow closely behind him, trying to take in everything I see while trying not to lag behind. All the doors in the hallway are frosted glass, with thick dark wood frames and large metal handles. Mike stops in front of the only solid wood door before producing a key from his pocket.

“This is the office,” he explains. “This is where you’ll find me most of the time, or Greg when I’m not working.”

“Who?” I ask, confused.

“Greg,” he says again by way of explanation, “the security guard you met earlier.”

He shuffles further into the office, heading towards a gray filing cabinet. He pulls out a few stacks of paper, flipping through them before pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to me.

“Read through this and then sign at the bottom. It’s standard stuff, but if you have any questions, let me know.”

I do as he says, reading through the paperwork speedily. I grab a pen off his desk and scribble my signature at the bottom of the page before handing the paperwork back to him.

“Congratulations, Evi, you’re officially employed at Poison Ivy! How does Friday night sound for your first shift?” he asks with a grin from ear to ear.

My smile is genuine as I answer him, eager to get started here and start making some more money.

“Now, let me show you around.” My grin matches his and my chest swells with pride, having landed a job I didn’t even realize I wanted so badly. I already feel the stress about next month’s rent start to dissipate.

We leave the office and Mike leads me down the hallway of frosted glass doors. He pauses in front of one and takes a different key out of his pocket, slides it into the lock, and pushes the glass door open. I inhale sharply as we both enter the room. The walls are painted dark red, with a black leather couch pressed up against one side, and a dark wood bar against the other. A silver pole is in the middle of the room, the center of attention. I walk further into the room, looking around as my shoes clack loudly against the dark stone floor. Above me, a crystal chandelier sparkles as it creates soft light throughout the room, bright enough so you can see what you’re doing, but dim enough to create an element of anonymity. The room screams sex.

“It’s gorgeous,” I say, barely whispering.

“We did renovations last year and, needless to say, I am quite happy with the results.” Mike chuffs, clearly proud of this place. “We have six of these rooms and they are all very similar, except they vary in size. They’re usually used for private dances, but sometimes we get groups of guys wanting a private party. They each have a bar, and you’ll be required to bartend in here as well as out on the floor, but don’t worry, we always make sure you girls never bartend in here alone. You know, the buddy system,” Mike says caringly.

The tour continues as we leave the room, and Mike talks the entire time, explaining the ins and outs of a typical shift. He stops in front of a door hidden behind the main stage, the words ‘employees only’ written in gold lettering.

“This is the communal room for everyone who works here,” he says, gesturing to the space in front of us.

If it weren’t for the black lockers lining the walls, I wouldn’t have known it wasn’t a part of the main club. The room boasts a large table with a dozen chairs around it, as well as a sitting area with black leather couches.

“This is the most luxurious staff room I’ve ever seen,” I say sincerely, and Mike smiles in return before continuing with the tour.

“The bathrooms are through that door over there, and there’s a fridge and microwave through there.” He gestures to two doors, each on opposite ends of the room. When you come in for your first shift, I’ll have a locker ready for you. You’re welcome to keep your work uniform in your locker, or you can come dressed for your shift, whatever you prefer.”

“Speaking of uniforms,” I say hesitantly, “what is the dress code here?”

Mike lets out a laugh. “Hun, the less clothes the better!” He chuckles. “You can wear jeans and a shirt, or nothing but your underwear—the only rule is that employees must be in black. And don’t forget, you compete for tips, so look your best!”

I can’t tell if Mike is joking about the underwear, and I find myself starting to doubt my ability to fit in here.

“Okay, perfect!” I respond to him, hoping my smile doesn’t betray how nervous I suddenly am.

We walk side by side, making small talk until we get to the front entrance, where Greg sits dutifully on his chair.

“Do you have any other questions, Evi?” Mike asks, his smile reassuring me.

“I…” I pause, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the amount of information Mike just rattled off over the past half hour.

Mike clears his throat and gives me a kind smile. “You have my email, so if anything comes to mind between now and your first shift, just send me a message.”

I flash a smile in return, grateful for his offer and feeling optimistic about having him as a boss, even if he does talk a little too much.

Mike holds the door open for me as I step outside, squinting as the bright sun blinds me momentarily.

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