“Are we talking just last night? Or the full tab?” she asks bluntly, placing her hands on her hips.
“Give me a ballpark, Amber-Lynn. I don’t have all day.”
“Two grand should cover it.”
I count through Pyotr’s bills and find he’s more than five hundred short.
“Pyotr, give me that Rolex on your wrist.”
“Boss, but I—”
I turn my head toward him slowly and fix him with a menacing glare. That’s all it takes. The watch practically flies off his wrist and lands on the table in front of me.
“Now, are we good?” I ask Amber-Lynn, who is still counting her dollar bills.
After making sure it’s all there, she pockets the cash and the new watch in the hollow of her cleavage for safekeeping.
“We are now, boss.”
“Good.” I raise my voice. “As for the rest of you, if you want any sort of attention from my girls, make sure the woman in question is willing and properly compensated. If she’s not in the mood, or she doesn’t like your face, HANDS. THE. FUCK. OFF. Anyone who breaks the rules from here on out will end up with no hands to speak of.”
“Yes, boss,” the men answer in unison.
“And that applies to the clientele as well. If you see anyone taking liberties with the girls, set the same example. Is that understood?”
“Yes, boss!” they all shout again.
“Good. Next.”
The next girl steps forward. This one is a little older than the others, and by the stern expression on her face, she’s not going to be satisfied with surface-level promises.
“Name?”
“Paulette, Mr. Petrov,” she says politely, her brown eyes matching the smooth ebony of her skin.
“Good morning, Paulette. Now tell me… do you like your job?”
“I don’t mind it, sir. It’s an honest wage at the end of the day, and I’ve never been manhandled like some of the younger girls. Though I do appreciate that you’re doing something about that now.”
“So what’s the problem then? Judging by the look on your face, I’d say you’ve got one.”
She chews the corner of her bottom lip in hesitation before coming right out and saying what’s on her mind.
“I have a little boy, sir. He just turned five. My Jevon is smart and well-behaved—”
“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming?”
“Well… he has asthma, sir. And sometimes it’s hard to afford his medication on my salary and tips alone. Without insurance, his inhaler costs over two hundred dollars, and that’s before the allergy meds, maintenance inhalers, or any hospital bills come into play. I’ve had to take extra jobs on my days off just to keep up, and most of that goes straight to the babysitter anyway,” she explains, both exhausted and angry with her lot in life. “And all of that would go away if you stopped paying us under the table and put us on the books with health insurance.”
Fuck. Okay… maybe Stella was right. Maybe I am the worst boss ever.
This time, I stand up from my chair and look at the line of girls still waiting to speak to me, their tired, hollow expressions saying more than their words ever could. It’s obvious to me now that most of them are clearly juggling two or three jobs just to survive.
Blyad!
I know firsthand what it’s like to be stretched so thin you can’t afford to keep up with day-to-day bills, let alone pay for proper medication. My poor babushka lost her sight because we couldn’t cover the cost of her diabetes care and medication. And here I am, causing the same heartache for other families because of my fucking apathy.
“I’ll talk to my accountant today and get this squared up. Before the month is through, you all will be in the books with proper health insurance,” I announce. “I’ll also be raising yourhourly wage by twenty dollars. None of you should have to take extra jobs just to get by. Now, with that said, is there anything else you need? Anything you’ve been too afraid to tell me before?”
