MEREDITH:
Los Altos Hills, a big city in the heart of California divided between the wealthy and the poor.
In the town of Los Altos Hills, I struggled daily to not go insane. After breaking up with my boyfriend, which made me lose fragments of myself to pain, I survived every day more than living. Nothing mattered to me again.
Sitting in this squeaky-leaking changing room of the brothel where I now worked as a bartender, tears streamed down my eyes, reminding me every moment of how Alan had walked out on me without an explanation. The only thing he said was, “you're a good person, Meredith. It's not you. It's me.” How was that supposed to make sense to me after giving every bit of me to him for seven years?
A heart that knew nothing but how to love has been replaced with anger, resentment, and bitterness. If only Alan had answered the overwhelming questions I needed answers to, maybe I would have gotten my closure.
The image of him walking out on me on the date night that was meant to celebrate our seventh anniversary was as vivid as the image of my brother's death. That was the second time I was experiencing such excruciating pain.
What has kept me going was inflicting more pain on myself and the busy schedule of this brothel. I had no choice as this was the only job I could come across after months of rejection from different firms. It didn't pay much, but it was better than nothing.
Inside the brothel, there was a club where loud music blasted, resonating through the bodies of the drunk men who drooled over the half-naked girls that wriggled their bodies to the music. I hated this job. I hated it here and couldn't wait to get away from all this. I've seen my fair share of disgust.
Often, men would harass me even though I was nothing more than a bartender. They draped their hands over my skimpy attire, bidding mouthwatering promises if I could give them a chance to explore me.
I profusely rejected each time. These actions made my hate for men to increase. Maybe this is why Alan left me. To be free and do as he pleases. He had even admitted to cheating while we were together. What other betrayal could hurt more than that?
Snapping out of all my worries, I changed into my work clothes and headed to the bar to survive yet another night. Arranging the drinks on the tray, I made sure it was balanced. My manager was looking for a way to get me out of here since he said I was bringing in a loss instead of a profit because I refused to do what the other girls did.
Making rounds with the tray of drink in my hand, men trailed their lusty sights over my body, their hands reaching to every part of my private parts, yearning for the one thing I wasn't willing to give to them. I was supposed to be used to it by now, yet, once it happens, I want to break those hands.
“You have a private room to serve,” Charlotte, one of the dancers, whispered in my ear. I hadn't noticed her arrival until now.
On booming nights, we had private rooms and serving them needed a bit of prayer as anything could happen. Worse, there was no one to report to.
“Okay. I've got it. Which unit?” I asked.
“One,” her glossy sexy lips announced, and she turned towards the stay, swaying her voluptuous hips.
Unit one? Whosoever that was there must be well-to-do because that unit didn't come cheap.
I grew agitated as I handed over the rest of the drink to another bartender. My eyes fell from my body to my hands which quivered, and twined them together to steady them, gritted my teeth jointly, and straightened out, unable to breathe properly. Then I proceeded to where I had been summoned.
Knocking a couple of times on the door that held my uncertainty, “come in,” I heard a male voice say.
Dragging as much air as I could take into my lungs, I step into the dimly lit room. This space held a different energy than the rest of the brothel. Every other aspect of it looked cheap. But, here and the columns of doors down the line were built to house only exquisite taste. I have been in these units a few times, but, each time felt new.
“Are you going to stand there all day or come serve me, girl?” a man who is seated in the dark corners of the room asked. He had a mask on and his voice held no emotions.
I studied him briefly before advancing further, and before I could say holy grail, this mountain of a man was spread out on the floor. He was holding on to his chest and wheezing in pain. I've never seen someone fight so hard to live.
Shit! What was I supposed to do? Immediately, I rushed to him and began performing CPR.
“Call my doctor, you idiot. And, don't touch me.” His words came out in whispers. This man was dying, yet he still had so much pride.
It was no time to argue because if he doesn't make it out of here alive, I would be going to prison. No one would believe that a wealthy man who had walked in here himself simply collapsed. News will make the round that I did something to him.
I prayed to all the deities I could remember to save me. If I survived this night, I was going to quit this job for good.
Bending to reach for his phone as I knelt beside his almost lifeless body, I began to sob. “Please, don't die. Please. My life is already hell.”
He slowly grabbed my hand and dragged me down, causing me to fall on him. “I'm going to die. But, definitely not today. Call the contact, Grenada,” he hissed before passing out.