One Word | H.S.

Chapter Seven

Stripped.

~

Two weeks later.

The sound of my alarm blares through the common area, whisking me out of my shallowed sleep. My eyes shoot open as my heart pounds rapidly, the sound startling me as I quickly glance around the darkened room in attempts to gather myself.

I grab my cell phone from the coffee table, pressing the snooze button as I hastily throw my head onto the worn pillow. I groan loudly as I inhale sharply, mentally preparing myself for the long night ahead.

I'm working at the local strip club.

No, I am not a stripper. I'm the bartender.

Yes, I applied to be a stripper, was told my mosquito bites of breasts didn't make the cut; yet, the forty three year old woman who is legit bearing a child is perfect.

Must be all the milk, her tits make watermelons look small.

I peer one eye open, struggling with the brightness on my phone as I noticed the time: 6:43 P.M.

It humored me, how contrasting my schedule was with most normal people. I would head to the club around 7:15 P.M., ensuring I ordered pizza or set out a microwavable meal for Auggie before exiting for the night.

My shift started at eight, but I couldn't risk losing another job hence my constant early arrival.

I didn't tell Auggie where I worked, he just knew I was bartending. I didn't think bartending was an embarrassing job in the slightest; I, however, was fully aware that Auggie's classmate's would drill him about if they knew, constantly making raunchy remarks.

My shift lasted from 8:00 P.M. to 4:00 A.M.; I usually stayed overtime, though, trying to reel in the extra cash that we desperately needed.

I would drag my weary feet through the entryway, not even bothering to put my outerwear on the coat rack. As my eyes drooped and my arms hung, making me rival the image of a rag-doll, I would attempt to make Auggie breakfast, yet I failed every fucking time.

A few days ago, I caught a waffle on fire.

That also resulted in a slight burn job to the stove as I flailed my arms around, screaming for Auggie as our stove erupted into flames.

-

"AH!" I panic as I fill a bowl with water, hurling the liquid onto the heated flames, "Jesus fuck! Auggie! I'm gonna fucking die!" I continue as I lose my grip on the paper bowl, the cheap dish igniting as the fire only seems to grow.

"What the HELL is going on?" Auggie yells, rushing to my side as his eyes stay fixated on his supposed breakfast.

Auggie's eyes widen as he turns on the faucet, forming his hands into a scoop as he tries to fill them with water. He then starts to fling the water onto the bonfire that was once a stove. Grabbing his arm I yell, "are you fucking insane?".

"Well, shit! Do you have a better idea?" Auggie yells over the smoke detector as I try to form a plan of action. I quickly shoot my eyes around the room, looking for anything that will extinguish the inferno. I come up blank, cursing myself for not renewing the fire extinguisher when Mia begged me to.

"The bathtub!" I yell, acting as though I found the cure to cancer.

My brother shoots me a stare, his eyes confused as his lips purse together, "what the FUCK are we going to do with the bathtub?" he yells, irritation in his voice clear as he throws his hands up in defeat.