Whispers of a Broken Halo by Abbi Glines

“You, uh, you said I would make twenty dollars an hour on weekday nights and forty dollars an hour on weekends?” I needed to make sure this was correct and not an average with tips. I knew tips weren’t always a sure thing, and I needed some reassurance.

He nodded. “Yes, but that’s not including tips. Weekend nights, you can make a lot more than that. I’ve seen waitresses go home with over two thousand in their pockets after tipping the front of house.”

“Two thousand,” I repeated, not sure I had heard that right.

He smirked. “It’s not every night, but it happens.”

Going home with even a few hundred dollars a night would change our lives. It would give Cullen a completely different world. Thinking about why I was doing this and who I was doing it for were the reasons I’d make it work.





Chapter Four

Bryn

six months later

My feet ached as I slipped them into the red eight-inch platform heels that were part of my uniform. The lacy black silk panties that covered a small portion of my bottom along with the gold belly chain, which had a fake red ruby dangling from just below my belly button, were the other parts of my uniform. I had worked five days straight this week because two of the other servers had been let go last weekend after getting into a fight over a customer.

When Marley had asked if I could work extra shifts, I had agreed, not thinking about how exhausted I was going to be. We didn’t need the money even though Tory was without a job again. I never told my sister the exact amount I made and had been putting money in a savings account I’d opened at a local bank. I didn’t want to do this job forever, but for now, I saw no other way.

Two months ago, we had moved from our studio apartment to a three-bedroom apartment on the better side of town. I had considered moving us closer to my work. The Shores hadn’t exactly given us a warm welcome, thanks to Tory. My reason for coming here was no longer a staying factor. I had closure on my Rio March fascination.

However, Tory had just gotten another job at the time, and she hadn’t wanted to leave town. She told me I was being selfish. In the end, we’d stayed on in The Shores.

Cullen had his own bedroom now, and he hadn’t gone without a healthy meal in months. I was able to take him to the bookstore and let him pick out books every week. His fifth birthday would be here at the end of the summer, and for the first time in his life, he would have a real party. Not just a cupcake with a candle stuck in it with whatever used toy I had found at the thrift store, wrapped in newspaper.

“Here, use this,” Trix said, putting a tub of makeup in my hand. “It’s concealer. It will cover the dark circles under your eyes.”

I looked into the mirror and realized she was right. I not only felt exhausted, but I looked it too. “Thanks,” I said to her.

“Sucks, having to work every night. Marley needs to let Saint help her hire. Hell, he did a fucking excellent job with you. She knows it too. We need more servers on the floor. I can’t keep up the double shifts to cover for them. I need to be on the damn stage. Makes more money, and if I am going to get into medical school, I need to dance,” Trix said as she fastened her belly chain around her waist.

A month after I’d started, Trix had been moved from serving on the floor to stage dancing. I knew those girls often went home with five thousand dollars a night. Trix was headed to med school; Danka was the sole provider for her daughter and her father, who was battling cancer; Lola was raising three nieces after her sister and brother-in-law died in a car accident. They were the three I had worked with the most. I didn’t know all the dancers’ stories, but I had learned most were up there because they had to be.

“You said you have a sister,” Trix said, and I looked back at her through the mirror as I applied the concealer.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“She look like you? Maybe she could come in and interview,” Trix suggested.

I laughed then and shook my head, then continued to cover the dark circles the best I could. “Tory is not someone I would recommend to Marley. She has no work ethic and has yet to keep a job longer than three weeks.”

Trix sighed. “That’s a fucking shame.”

She had no idea. It was why I was here.

“Here, let me do that,” Trix said and took the tube from me, then began to fix my face. “She older than you?” Trix asked me.

“Tory? Yes.”

Trix snorted. “Rarely hear of the younger sister being the responsible one. Hell, my baby sister calls me weekly for help to pay her bills. If it wasn’t for the three kids of hers, I would hang up. She’s just like our mama, I swear.”

I understood that all too well. “Tory has a son,” I said just as she stepped back and studied my face.

“There. It’s fixed,” she stated. “You got a sorry-ass mama too?” Trix asked, walking over to slip on her platform heels that were white, covered in red lips.

“She was in prison for murder. They had a Covid outbreak shortly after the lockdown, and she didn’t survive it,” I explained.

“Murder? Shit. Damn, that’s tough,” she replied.

“Just had the Elvis table arrive. We need you both on it. Looks like spoiled trust-fund brats tonight, but they have daddy’s money,” Saint said as he walked into the dressing room.