VICTORIA POV
Growing up, my mother always said, "Vicky, there's no such thing as luck. The only way you're ever gonna get what you want is to work hard and people like us have to work twice that".
People like us. She meant us trailer trash.
My mom and dad moved to Las Vegas before I was born to pursue my mother's dreams of becoming a showgirl. Unlucky for her, she was already pregnant with me before they could even unpack the boxes.
My dad was unable to work due to an old injury back when he was working in a factory, so he mostly drank while waiting around for his disability checks. With the bills piling up, my mom found a job as a stripper at the Cheetah Gentleman's Club on the strip. It wasn't show business, but it was dancing at least. Sometimes when when my dad was too hammered to watch me, she'd take me there and hide me in the locker room until her shift was over. It wasn't so bad, I would bring my homework with me and I'd chat with all the nice ladies that worked there. I admit it wasn't the best environment for a nine year old girl, but my mom did the best she could.
When she wasn't working, my mom would drag me to any audition she could find. I'd get to sit in the back rows and watch all kinds of people perform. I saw dancers, trapeze artists, and sword swallowers. But my favorite was the fire breathers. I loved them. I would watch with anticipation as they spewed fire out of their mouths, without worry as their sparkly costumes glistened from the flames. To me, they were fearless and beautiful. I wanted to feel that way. I wanted to be a fire breather.
As time went on, my dad's drinking got worse and would stop paying bills and sent his checks straight to the liquor store. Unable to pay the mortgage, we ended up moving to the Sunset Mobile Park and I became known as "Trailer Trash Vicky" at school.
It never bothered me, to be honest. When my dad was drunk off his ass, he'd use me as a human ashtray or sometimes a punching bag. Being teased at school was a hell of a lot better than to be the receiving end of another one of his episodes.
I embraced the bullying, the black eyes, and the bruises. It gave me tough skin.
I was tough.
I was tough enough to go through high school heartache and tough enough to see my mother wither away from cancer.
I was tough.
I was tough enough to take on two jobs to pay the mounting medical bills my mom left us. I was tough when I had to pick out her coffin at the funeral
home. I was tough enough to be accepted into college and finally leave my dad.
I. Was. Tough.
But sometimes I wasn't. Sometimes I would break down and cry. Sometimes I would break things and smash the bathroom mirror out of frustration. And then I would stop. I would stop because it was a sign of weakness to cry, to react. So one day I decided I wouldn't cry, wouldn't react.
The world was cruel and unfair. Cheaters, gambling addicts, and tourists would come to Las Vegas to bet on the luck they didn't deserve. They'd play blackjack or roulette all night just to make a few bucks. Even rich bastards who already had money got lucky on the slots. Me? I was dealt a bad hand and I accepted it.
I listened to what my mother told me and I worked hard. Twice as hard. Three times as hard.
Hard work got me through my mother's death, my dad's wrath, and college. Not luck.
Luck was for people who were already lucky. Hard work was for people like me.
***
"Fuck a rubber duck! I'm gonna be late!", I shout. Frustrated, I throw my phone against the wall causing a dent in the already peeling wallpaper. I was late for work, again.
I scramble out of bed and start rifling through my closet like a hyena on speed trying to find my uniform.
"Vic? Vic! What the fuck?" Faye looks at me with confusion as she walks out of the kitchen, coffee in hand.
Faye had been my best friend since childhood. We met at the trailer park playground and had been inseparable since. How we got along so well? I don't really know. She was my complete opposite. Faye had the shiniest strawberry blonde hair that stopped right at her shoulders. She was tall, while I was short. She was super model skinny, while I was stuck with giant hips and a large ass. Our personalities didn't even match. Despite our similar upbringing, she was optimistic and carefree. I was the cynical bitch who couldn't even trust the Pope. Life has beaten us both down, but Faye would just stand back up while I cursed at it.
"I'm gonna be late, Faye! Fuuuuuck. I need clean clothes! Aha!" I pull out a wrinkled black shirt and hastily throw it on. I scrounge up a pair of jeans in the laundry basket and give it a whiff.
"Meh, this is gonna have to do", I try to convince myself as I quickly force them to slide over my 'bigger than a double-wide' hips.
"Gross". Faye just watches me, amused by my panic from the bedroom doorframe, sipping her coffee.
"Shut up, Faye", I say as I run into the bathroom. "I just need something to wear on the way there, I'll change into my costume before showtime". I tie my hair up in what resembles a birds nest. An unfinished, poorly done bird's nest. Small pieces fall down my face and neck, but I have no time to fix that.
"Ugh, all that luscious, long black hair and you're just gonna tie it up into whatever that is." Faye shakes her head, still leaning against the doorframe.
"Not now, Faye", as I run past her and into the entryway. I plop myself down on the worn out bench by the front door to tie on my boots.
"Gonna need a new bench soon". Faye walks over to the kitchen counter and props her arm on it.
"Bench costs money, Faye. Something we don't have", I mumble trying to undo a knot in my lace to no avail.
She just rolls her eyes at me and comes over to help me untie this stupid knot. "Vic, you have some money. You're too cheap to fucking spend it. I mean, what's the point of having money if you're not even gonna use it?"
Faye loved shopping. Shoes, purses, makeup. Her choice of clothing was rather gaudy compared to mine. She liked bright colors and sequins. Ugh, sequins. I hated them, but they were a part of my costume. It worked on her though, it matched her fun personality. I preferred muted colors like black or olive. Oh, and it had to be on sale. Always on sale. Faye always said it's because my outside matches my inside: cold and dark. She said the only time she's ever seen me light up is when I'm on stage.
Faye finishes tying my boot for me and I grab my backpack to head out the door. I've only grabbed the doorknob until I realized I'd forgotten something.
"Keys", Faye says nonchalantly as I grab them from her hands. Before I could turn around, "Helmet." She hands it to me. "Breakfast". She takes an apple off the counter and shoves it into my mouth.
"Love you", I mumble with the apple still between my teeth as I run out the door.
***
I sprint to the parking lot and swing my leg over my motorcycle. I didn't have a car when I went to college. I had saved a lot of money to find a one on Craigslist, but I found an ad for a used 2005 R1. The guy was moving abroad and was selling it for a steal, I had to have it. It was my first and only splurge, the most expensive thing I owned. Riding it made me feel alive, free. It was the only escape I had from life and the shit it threw at me. I felt like nothing could touch me when I was on it.
My back tire lifts up off the ground for only a moment as I come to an abrupt holt in front of the casino. I rush inside, squeezing past tourists and the night shift.
"You're late, Gina's gonna be so mad!", one of the cocktail waitresses shouts at me as I carefully squeeze past her, trying not to spill her tray of drinks.
"I know, Nicole!", I turn my head to give her a quick glare while speed walking. I didn't like that girl, she only had a job 'cause she was sleeping with the owner of the casino. She didn't work for shit and he was too blinded by her giant tits to realize how terrible of a waitress she really was.
I finally reach the locker room and quickly try to calm my breathing in hopes nobody noticed that I was late. I quietly open the door only to see Gina with her arms crossed and lips pursed. Awe, fuck.
"Heyyyyy, G!" I give her a nervous grin as I slide into the locker room. "You look nice today".
"Enough, Victoria. I'm done with your bullshit". She faces her palm up at me. Her tone very much implied that she was, indeed, "done with my bullshit".
I carefully slide my back against the wall, trying to get around her. Her glare followed my every move. If her eyes could shoot daggers, I'd be dead by now.
"This is the third time you've been late this week!" she reprimands. "I can't keep letting you off the hook".
"I'm sorry, Gina. I'm really, really sorry. My alarm didn't go off again last night...", I trail off, not knowing what else to say. I just stand there rolling my bottom lip with my teeth, waiting for her to reply.
Gina's face softens into an apologetic one. "Vic... I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to let you go".
***
The strobe lights inside the club were about to give me a seizure. The music was so loud, it thumped into my brain and vibrated into my blood. My world came crashing down. I finally had my dream job, only for it to be ripped away by a stupid fucking alarm clock. It was hard to make it out here as a performer, my mom's lack of luck made that very clear. Knowing that only made my firing much worse.Faye insisted that I come out with her and forget, when all I wanted to do was hide under my covers. Instead, I'm sitting here watching lonely people grind their sweaty bodies on one another and to terrible techno music at that.
"What am I gonna do with my life now!?" I slam my head onto the table so hard a drink goes flying to the floor. I was making decent money at this casino which let me quit my second job. Now I had no job at all.
"Come on, V! You'll be okay, you always find a way". Faye was always so positive and reassuring. "You'll find another job soon enough, your resume's too good not to". I pick my head back up and lazily sway by neck to face her. She had the biggest grin on her face like she was so sure my life would get better. Too bad I was a college graduate who didn't even use her degree because she decided to follow her ridiculous childhood dream of fire breathing.
Let's see: waitress, cocktail waitress, waitress, fire breather. Yeah, a very broad and helpful resume.
Just as if my life couldn't get any worse, Nicole sashays up to our table. Faye met her one day when she came to my work to drop off some stuff for me. She thought Nicole's idiocy was hilarious and invited her out whenever she needed a laugh. I thought it was a little mean, but Faye was my best friend so it is what it is.
"Awe, Vickyyyyy", she leaned in to give me a hug, her giant plastic tits caving my chest in. "I'm so sorry that you got fired. I feel bad". She plops down next to me, flipping her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder.
"Come on, enough with the sob fest. There's too much vagina in this circle, let's go out and dance with those guy over there". Faye points to three very muscular, very hot guys. One of them winks at me as he sips his drink.
"Ugh, no". I scowl in disgust.
Don't get me wrong, the guys were good looking. But they weren't men, they were boys.
Plus, what man makes eye contact while drinking a daiquiri?
I'm 24, but dating was a foreign concept to me. I was too focused on working and school amongst other things, I never really dated much or cared to. The last time I opened my heart to someone was in my senior year of college and that asshole dumped me for some blonde chick he met at a club like this.
Hmm, maybe I don't really hate Nicole. Maybe she just reminds me of that bimbo he left with.
Any man that's ever come into my life has only hurt or disappointed me, so I didn't bother with them anymore. It didn't matter anyway. Men in Las Vegas are looking for only leggy blonde models like Nicole and I sure as hell wasn't one of them. Most of the girls here get plastic surgery to appease them, but I wouldn't change a damn thing for anybody. I didn't have much, but at least I had my identity.
"V! V!", I hear Nicole shouting at me from the middle of the dance floor, her arm waving frantically in the air.
When did she get over there?
I pretend not to hear her until she jogs up to the table, her clown boobs bouncing left and right.
"Hey", she says as she tries to catch her breath. "I just got talking to my honey on the phone".
You mean Grandpa Moneybags at the casino?
"He likes to talk a lot about the competition around here on the strip and he mentioned they just opened a Blair Hotel & Casino a little ways from here and-"
Nicole droned on about how it affected her sugar daddy's business, but all I heard was 'paycheck. rent. bills.' I immediately shot up from my seat.
"Are they hiring performers?"
***
Author's Note:
Hey, guys! I hope the first chapter hooked you in so far! Can you tell I'm trying to be more detailed and my character development is improving I hope.
I wanted to really delve into a strong female character, but wanted to make her vulnerable enough at the same time. I hope I did that with Victoria :) She's my favorite character I've written about so far, so I can't wait to see how she develops in this book.
PLEASE FOLLOW, VOTE, & COMMENT!