Remember the Time

1: Who Is It?

{December, 1992}

It was ten minutes to nine, and Alessandra Parsons was in the dirty, grimy restroom mirror applying some more nude pink lipstick to her full lips. While she fixed her long, luxurious wavy hair, she sighed and shook her head. "Another night of this bullshit." she thought. Sporting her Club X uniform, which consisted of a short, black bodycon skirt, black heeled boots, an apron, and a black tee with a large, metallic blue "X" on it, Alessandra checked herself from front to back and walked out of the restroom to start work once again, waiting tables. Club X was one of the premier nightclubs in Los Angeles. Everybody who was anybody went to that nightclub, especially on VIP Night. Once a month on a Saturday night, the club hosted a VIP night inviting many of Hollywood's rich and famous to make an appearance. Each month, the club handpicks a few celebrities to come and some, to even perform. This was a guaranteed money maker for the club, as well as exposure, bringing many of Los Angeles to the club that night. Well, tonight was that night, and even though many of the other workers at Club were more excited than ever, Alessandra wasn't. Even though the tips were decent and the atmosphere was hot, she dreaded some of the things that she religiously encountered at work, such as Jose, the club owner, getting on her case, the other waitresses and bartenders that would talk shit behind her back, or the drunk, persistent losers who would try to get her number or even try to cop a feel. Many times she wanted to leave, but she didn't have many choices, especially with her level of education, hard luck, and a five-year-old son to raise. However, she decided to put all of that aside, and walk out to the lower level of the club. Club X was rather large, housing two floors, balconies all around the interior, a wet bar and a VIP section fit for kings. Nine o'clock was fast approaching and all of the workers (bouncers, waitresses, bartenders, and the like) of Club X were lined up military-style in front of Jose, the club's owner. Jose was the asshole of all assholes. Alessandra often described him as a Puerto Rican Hitler. Standing at 5'9, in his early 30s, and always with a toothpick or cigar in his mouth, Jose paced up and down, passing each member of the line. Donning his black Armani suit, with a red-collared shirt partly unbuttoned, exposing the hair on his chest, he examined the line, especially the female workers. Alessandra was the last to walk in, and when she found her place at the end of the line, he glared at her briefly. Some of the other female waitresses giggled and murmured at her arrival. Alessandra turned her head to the right. She did not feel like dealing with his shit. Not tonight, she told herself. What even annoyed her also was that he always had these little "pep talks" before VIP Night.

"Listen up," Jose said as he took the Cuban pineapple cigar out of his mouth. "We got a lot of guests showing up tonight. In fact, the celebs we got comin' up in here tonight, it's gonna be the best night we're about to have all year." He then briefly pauses and points to the floor.

"Don't fuck this up." He said slowly and sternly. He then continues, "Waitresses, especially...look cute, flash a smile, wink, or even flirt with a motherfucker if you have to. Remember, if we do this right, we can draw in a lot of money."

"Jose?" asked Simone Rodriguez, one of the club's waitresses and a kiss-ass according to Alessandra, called out. She was tall, attractive, and curvy and even sported a golden bronze curly afro. Her caramel complexion shown under the lights, even zeroing in on her blood-red lipstick. She had always implied that she was Jose's favorite, and would even flirt with him whenever she came in contact with him. In fact, she was one of the girls that murmured at Alessandra's late arrival. Jose looks up towards her direction and she then asks. "Who's coming tonight?"

"See baby," Jose walks up to her and points at her. "You will find that out when it's time. Just do your job. "Simone silently retreats at his authoritative and condescending remark.