Brooklyn Noelle Brankovich

Chapter Twenty-eight: "Bottle girl at your service"

My alarm went off at eight o'clock at night. I did nothing but sleep all day so I don't know why I woke up so tired. The thought that it was my first day on the job excited me, waking my body right up. I turned off the alarm on my phone and shuffled to the bathroom so I could relieve myself.

I started the water in the shower and got undressed.

After brushing my teeth and selecting a playlist, I stood under the hot water and let it run down my skin.

Once I cleansed myself thoroughly, shaved, and exfoliated, I turned the water off and hopped out to dry my body.

SZA's "Doves in the wind" played through my speakers and I sang along to the ending.

The carpet tickled my feet as I walked through my bedroom to enter the walk-in closet and find something to slip into for work. Only, I had few items that screamed "appealing bottle girl."
Don't tell me I have to go shopping again. Well, I don't mind actually. Then I remembered Mina, the Latina house mother at The Playroom who offered a bunch of pieces for the girls to wear. I was sure they were strictly for the dancers, but I decided to press my luck anyway.

I applied lotion and perfume, then did my makeup - a natural soft beat with fox eye makeup. Venus explained that they were hard on the girls appearances at the club. It is the number one night club in the whole city, after all. And it made sense because all of the staff looked so beautiful it's unreal. Actually, I was flattered to be hired. I've honestly never struggled with my self-esteem because as a dancer I almost had to give off beauty and grace.
With a plastic surgeon father, people assumed I'd have work done, but my mother would kill me if I ever even dreamed about it.

I obsessed over how I looked in the little black dress as I stared in the full length, full standing wooden mirror before my window.

I didn't know if it was too much or not enough and I started to panic. So I got a second opinion.

"Hey, girl." He made me laugh.

Because he called me girl, I said, "Hey, boy."

He chuckled. "What's up?"

"Are you home?" I whined.

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Look," I said to him and flipped the camera so he could see my full body, "what do you think?"

He did a double take then continued walking through his dimly-lit apartment. Before he spoke, Noah wet his lips and then set his phone down so he could get dressed.

"What's the special occasion?" he asked me.

"Hot date. Now, can you tell me if I look good, or not?"

He chuckled and I heard some rattling in the background like he was flipping through clothes hangers in his closet.

"I can't tell, to be honest."

I stomped my foot. "Well can you come over and help, I could actually use a man's opinion on this. And I would've just asked Cass but she's not home."

"You sound stressed," he laughed.

I pouted and fell onto my my mattress that was now covered in my most revealing and sexy ensembles.

"I am!"

"Alright, I'm coming over in a second, but I don't have all day, okay?"

My teeth sucked and I just ended the call. He's so annoying.

Not even two minutes later, Noah was knocking at my door. I ran to the front, slipping in my fuzzy socks on the way, and hurriedly let him in.

It was 8:47 PM and I was going to be late if I was going to be early. My shift started at ten and it took about fifteen to twenty minutes to get there.

"So, what do you think?" I asked him, unsure. I spun in a 360 and then bounced with anticipation. "Yay or nay?"

He looked pretty uncomfortable and hesitated to give me the truth. Noah scratched his eyebrow with his thumb nail and then darted his eyes around the room.

I blinked slowly, unamused with his weird behavior, and walked towards him. "You don't like it?" I asked in a soft, discouraged voice.

"No, you look good," he finally admitted and folded his arms as he leaned on my island. "Where are you going?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm going to work! I got a job at this club and I start tonight. Mhm, you're now looking at a working woman!" I boasted happily, pulling on his arm as I jumped with joy.

It was exciting that I had a job because before, I never thought this life was for me. I thought I'd always be at home until Will decided to marry me and have kids, and we'd live in the suburbs somewhere still in Texas. What a joke.

"Stripping?" he asked, tugging at the strap to my dress.

I slapped his hand away and said, "Fuck you, does it look like I'd be a stripper? No, I'm a bottle girl, get it right." I was only half serious. I didn't care if I looked "like a stripper". I just took that as I looked hot which gave me the answer I was looking for.

"Well, you look good. Uh, be careful, I guess," he said, pushing off the counter.

"Thanks, Noah," I sighed, walking him to the door, "you can really make a girl feel great about herself."

"Pfft. I said you look great." He growled like he was annoyed at me.

"That's it?" I mumbled.

He chuckled. "What did you expect?"

I pressed my lips together and shook my head. "Nothing. Bye, Noah, don't wanna hold you up all day."

With that, I opened the door for him to exit. Once he did, we didn't have anything to say to each other. He dropped his head and I sighed, slowly closing the door.

9:32 PM I stepped out of my car, the stiletto heel of my black platform heels planting in the base gravel.

I smoothed out my dress and entered the club.

Neon lights lit up the place - mostly purple and red. The music played loud over the sound of people's chatter. It wasn't busy, but it was a nice little turn out so far.

The smoking security guard from the day prior acknowledged my presence as we crossed paths. I went straight to the dressing room.

"Hey, Venus," I greeted the exotic dancer.

She looked up from lacing her boots and smiled with closed, glossy lips. "Well look at you," she chimed.

"Has anyone seen - oh, there you are! Hi Brooklyn, can I talk to you for a second?" asked Courtney after busting in like she meant business.

"You look great," she said. "Come, let me introduce you to our senior bottle girl; she's been here since I started - Zane loves her. But first, I need you to sign something."

"Zane?" I wondered who that was.

"Our boss, hon."

I nodded, mentally kicking myself for not remembering that.

Courtney closed me in an office and handed me an ink pen.

"What's this?" I asked unsure.

"This is a Non-disclosure agreement. This club hosts a lot of rich and important men, sometimes celebrities or public figures - signing this document just means you're not allowed to who you specifically, or what you see." Courtney's grin was fraudulent and I knew it so I hesitated to sign the form.

"See stuff like what?" I questioned.

"Hook-ups in the bathroom, acts certain guests might display, erm... married men cheating on their wives - the usual. So, how 'bout it, hm?"

I blinked and then exhaled, wanting to get it over with. The things she mentioned seemed like regular club drama to me that I'd seen on tv so I wasn't turned off by the idea. I knew I wouldn't blab about anything I saw, anyway, because the only people I could possibly tell would be Cassie, Gael, or Noah, and I'm sure they wouldn't care.

"Perfect," Courtney exclaimed, putting the papers in my growing file. "Right this way!"

Courtney switched to the bar where I was introduced to a Natalie, the senior bottle server she referred to before.

"Natalie, this is Brooklyn - the new girl. Show her the ropes." Courtney smiled at us both and then clicked away in her heels.

Natalie looked me over from head to toe and didn't seem disappointed. "Hm! You smell good, look good. Here's a tip: you're already pretty tall and most men don't really like tall girls. We're allowed to wear boots here. Plus, it gives you a place to store extra pens, or tips. Let me see your nails."

I displayed both hands and she checked my fresh manicure.

"That's good," she said, "that's the first thing they notice, you'll want to keep them done. Your makeup's fine, they're pretty strict on that shit here. If you were a centimeter taller, a few pounds heavier, and had a pink Mohawk, you wouldn't have been considered. Just keep your hair and nails done, and wear natural makeup. Be quick, smile, and throw in a red lip. Remember: you can't go wrong with a Smokey eye, and your boobs are your best friend."

"Noted. Anything else I should know?"

Natalie bobbed her head of light brown hair in the direction she wanted me to follow, and gave me a tour around the floor I shared with about a handful of other girls a night.

"We split our tips with all the girls because it depends on sections. So, with our twelve or fifteen, a low tip could send you home with, like, seventy-five cents one night. Some tables won't spend any money but another girl could have a ten-thousand dollar table with a one or two-thousand dollar tip and we'll split it so everyone walks out with the same amount - it balances out."

"Was that even English? I'm no good at math," I tried joking.

Natalie laughed through her button nose as she excused herself for a moment and expertly carried a full tray to a table of three.
I observed how she interacted with the men, dancing the line between being friendly and flirting. She smiled big and casually touched the men's muscles. After not engaging long, she returned to me.

"Have fun with them, but not too much. These guys get drunk and can become monsters. There's not a stage or bar separating you from them so you might get grabbed - we have guards all around watching and the second you get uncomfortable they'll jump and see the men out. Anything goes here, but when they ask you to do something, you can decline."

I tensed up. "What do you mean, ask me to do something?"

"Being a bottle girl is the stairway to becoming an escort; a lot of girls see it as their way to rich men, athletes, whatever. When they ask you - and they will - simply let them know your job is servicing drinks and nothing more," Natalie let me know.

I watched as the door let more people inside, a line started to form as Venus has been promoting all week in advance for some event she was hosting tonight. Unlike usual, there wasn't a theme for this event, but I was informed to go all out for them in the future because it's more visually appealing and makes me come off as "interesting."

"It's ten, and you're on the clock," Natalie professed. "I'm going to give you a crash course in bottle service so pay attention, I don't like to repeat myself. Customers are guaranteed a table and you will serve them until they leave. Never lead a group to a messy table - if the host doesn't escort them fully, clean it while they stand back. Make them feel comfortable, more tips. You want to be fun, dance, and laugh with the women, even try remembering their names, but don't be too friendly and never drink with them; you'll be wasted before you know it! Always offer to pour the drinks so you can overpour which makes them buy more bottles. And always serve the person who's footing the bill FIRST, then ladies, and the hype men last."

The information was inflating my brain, I don't know the last time I had to retain so much information at a time. Everything she said made sense, though, and I tried my hardest to comprehend.

Natalie went on. "Offer water and bring it fast. Keep the area cleaned, and supply plenty of napkins. Try and sell champagne because it moves faster, and always suggest they keep it coming. And big spenders are those who spend over ten-thousand in a night, so that's when we put on a show: smile big, dance, get out the sparklers and the Bugatti cart - no cheap stuff. Think you can hang?"

I'm sure the puzzled way I felt translated onto my face.

Picking my lip up, I slowly nodded my head. "I'll manage," I assured Natalie, my superior.

Liking what she heard, Natalie smiled and welcomed me on board. "Great, let's get you started!"