by Andrew Reynolds
“Hey, girl, get your head out of that damn book, the manager’s looking for you!”
Jessie didn’t have to look to know it was Lori yelling at her. The older woman walked up to stand beside. She looked up to see her eyes were dilated and bloodshot, and from the wobble in her stance, Jessie knew she was high again. Probably oxy she thought to herself. She couldn’t change the woman’s mind about using them to get through her day, so she didn’t try. Instead, she put her bookmark in her textbook and closed it.
“So what does he want now?”
“Customers are starting to show up! Time to get to work.”
Jessie shrugged her old jacket off, pushed her chair back, zipped up her thigh-high thick-soled boots and looked in the mirror. Her bikini looked ridiculous, but she knew the customers wanted a stripper to look this. She hated the work, but needed the money.
One more semester, just one more… then I can be the nurse I want to be.
Andrew Reynolds is a writer of fact and fiction. His published work includes three years op-ed columnist with “The Weekly Observer”, writer, editor and chief bottle washer for “The Spacer’s Digest” and various letters to local newspapers. He is currently engaged in the never-ending struggle to complete his first novel.