Hey so this is a filler chapter. It is a flashback so you guys can have a little peak at her past. Thank you for reading and leave a review.
It was a haze of alcohol and the base. I was standing in some club on the lower side of Miami on my second Long Island Ice Tea, drunk off my ass, dancing my heart out. How did I get here? I woke up this morning evidently depressed. My 21st birthday, something to be happy about, was spent searching for some money to take a ceremonial trip to the drug store. I scraped together thirty dollars, pulled on ripped jeans and a white shirt and a pair on converse. I walked into the air-conditioned mart and waved at Michael who had his feet on the counter no doubt reading a Playboy.
"Hey Als," he hollered, glancing from his magazine.
"Hey!" I called back from the first aisle, dropping a box of blonde hair dye into my basket. I walked down the long aisle picking up lipstick, eyeliner, and mascara. Then I walked down the wine aisle I picked box wine and some food. I placed the basket onto the counter, Michael closed the magazine then started checking my shit out.
"Today's the day?" he asked scanning the boxed wine without checking my id.
"Ya, the big 2-1," I hum, leaning against the counter.
"Two packs?" he asked, already reaching for them already.
I hand him the money which he gives me back twenty dollars.
I opened my mouth but he had already opened a pack and handed me one. He lights it for me, I take a drag then hand it back to him.
He blows the smoke to the side, "What's on the agenda?"
"I'm getting the third bar on my arm, getting slutly and going to the club to get shitfaced."
"Which parlor do you go to?"
"The one on 14th," I say.
He rolls his eyes, "That place is shitty."
"Its close to home," I shrug, I pick my bags up and walk back home.
I showered, had a glass of wine then walked to the parlor.
"Hey beautiful," the tattoo artist greeted when I walked into the parlor.
"Hey . . ." I turned my head, trying to remember his name.
He frowned and cleared his throat, "Jay."
"Well, Jay, is there an opening," I asked looking around the empty shop.
"No it's packed full," I knew he was joking or flirting. I wasn't in the mood. I frowned at him, "I'm joking. Whatcha looking for?"
"Just getting the third bar," I instruct, lighting a cigarette and shrugging off my jacket. He leads me to the chair and wipes my arm with some rubbing alcohol.
"Is this your first tattoo," he asks systematically, pushing himself back to get his needle and ink.
"Does it look its my first tattoo?" I ask, blowing the smoke in his general direction.
He smirked and pressed the sketch paper onto my arm before he began filling it in. I bit my lip, before muttering profanities under my breath.
After he cleaned up the tattoo, the tattoo artist leaned back in his chair.
"What does a pretty girl like you do on Saturday night?"
"Keeping away from strangers," I smile sweetly, pulling the money I have saved for this and handed it to him.
He nodded, "Exact change. Nice."
"Well it's not the first one," I say, standing and slipping my jacket back on and bee-lining it for the door.
"Ally!" he yells, I sigh and turn back around.
"Yes?" I ask.
"I won't give up, you know."
"You should, everyone else did," I smile sadly and then go back to my shitty apartment.
I spent the next two hours getting ready, I called my friend Marge. She came over and got ready with e and by seven we were ready to go. We were ready to go.
I wore black skin tight dress that rested mid thigh, with sky high heels with red lip stick, my blonde hair straightened.
Marge wore a hot pink dress with the sides cut out. She wore nude heels and her hair curled. We worked together at the Denny's, she came from California. She had stunning blue eyes and long light brown hair.
We were standing in a line that was down the street. My feet were aching and my tattoo stinged. I passed my clutch between my hands.
"I don't understand why two hot girls can't get in a stupid fucking club," she growled frustrated.
I laughed and rolled my eyes, we were standing next to an Alley way, the walls vibrated from the music playing inside. I gazed down it every five minutes or so a bus boy came out with empty crates.
"You know what. You're right, this is fucking stupid," I grabbed her hand, then looked around no one was paying attention.
I pulled her down the alley until we reached the back door, I waited until the bus boy came back out.
"Hey, I was wondering if you knew where the club Sailor was?" I asked in a high pitched voice, I bit my lip and twirled a piece of hair between my fingers.
He was a scrawny little thing, he had large rimmed glasses and a cute, dorky smile. His foot held open the door.
He swallowed loudly, "Uh-uh ya thi-this is the-club – I mean Sailors."
I stepped closer to him, "Could you let us in?"
"I don't know, what do I get in return," he asked.
I turned my head and looked back at Marge, "I'll let you kiss my friend."
He looked back at Marge she was dozing off at her phone, he jaw unhinged and he nodded frantically.
"Marge," she looked up, put her phone away then came over, "You stand there and here I'll hold the door. close your eyes and . . . "
The poor kid did everything I told him, I pulled her through the door and then closed it on the bus boy.
We giggled as we walked down the hall, we made it to the end when a large man stopped in front of us, "Who are you two?"
"Candy and Tara," I answered quickly.
"Well Candy and Tara why are you in my hall," he asked, his eyes flashed back and forth between us.
"Oh your hall, I don't see my hall anywhere in here," I leaned onto one foot and placed my hand on my hip.
He laughed, "Ms. Candy would you follow me to my office."
"Oh why yes Mr. Hawk eyes, sir," I mocked following the man into a small office.
"Ally stop acting like that you'll get us in trouble," she whispered yelled at me.
"Calm down and let me follow my lead."
He sat down in front of us, closing his hands together on the desk.
"I'm Andy Captin, I own all the Sailors in the U.S." he informed.
"Candy Sweets, I own a pack and a half of cigarettes, red lipstick and some loose change. Tara Goodtime, she owns an apron and a coffee cup," I said sarcastically. His eyes lit up in amusement.
"I like you Candy, but my question still remains. Why are you in the private section of the club?"
"Well the truth is we snuck in through the alleyway entrance by telling the busboy I would let him touch my friends boobs, then we locked him out."
He smiled crookedly, "You're lieing."
"You're right, I said he could kiss her."
He smiled a toothy grin, "I like you. I need girls like you around here. Your friend is the shy type, that appeals to people. How would you both like a job."
"I don't know, you could be a serial rapist that locked us in here to steal our woman hood."
He laughed, "No I am not. How about $500 a week plus tips and free drinks on Fridays."
I shook my head, "Well you know girls like us, we get jobs everywhere. We were offered 550 at Midnight Cocktail a week, plus health care insurance."
He shook his head, Midnight Cocktail is a good club not too far that is in competition with Sailors, "Fine. $600 a week plus hair, plus free drinks on Friday's."
I bit m lips and smile, "You got a deal Mr. Hawk Eyes."
I reached over and shook his hand, "I'm Ally Dawson and this is Marge Smith."
"Nice to meet you."
So three hours later, I had maybe six shots of tequila and a margarita and the two Long Island Ice Tea. I had a new job, a new tattoo, and I was drunk and I loved it. Way to say a big ol' fuck you to Austin in LA, and a big o' suck a dick to Lester. I was already a fuck up, with tattoos and unnaturally blonde hair, why not be a alcohol loving, bar waitress with nothing to lose?
It not like he was ever going to come back anyway.
It's not like he cared about me.
Its not like I missed him no.
No. I didn't.
But I still looked for a mop of blonde hair in the crowd. And I still cried when I got back home. I still pulled out the show box with old pictures of us. Why? Because he never gave me the chance to say goodbye.