The New York Doll Read Free Page B

almost out of money for food, I wouldn’t be so picky. Yes, I am pissed too for being called a pole dancer, but for God’s sake, stop being such a nun and be grateful that I’m trying to get us a job.
    Dr. Weinstein gathers all the staff members around him and explains us the whole deal. They are planning to open in two weeks and we all should be ready by then. He discusses some questions concerning the bar with the future bartender, who reminds me much of Nicole Sherzinger; discusses the bartender license with quite gay looking Michael, the second bartender, and then explains our responsibilities to me, Julie and the other girl.
    - The day before the opening you all have to come here again and we’ll have the final meeting. And I’ll bring you, girls, your uniform.
    - What’s the uniform? – Julie tenses up.
    - The uniform is going to be a corset and a mini-skirt. We have to show some skin to sell the drinks, and to get good tips, right? – he winks at us. Julie looks grumpier and grumpier. – And high heels, of course. You have to look like supermodels.
     
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    - I’m not gonna wear a corset! Are you serious right now? I didn’t come to this country to walk around looking like a whore!
    We are sitting at the Starbacks not far from the club and drinking coffee that is too expensive for us at this point.
    - Listen, I didn’t come to this country to walk around looking like a whore either! But we need a job to pay the bills, our rent is coming up, what are we supposed to do? Sleep on the street?
    - My parents will send me money, but they will never allow me to work in such a place wearing such an outfit!
    - Well, my mom and my grandma won’t be too happy about me working in the night club either, but all I know is that we have to somehow survive and take care of ourselves.
    - If you want to do it, you do it, Mila. I’ll find something else.
    That’s how our first big fight in seven years ended, leaving me frustrated and pissed big time at Julie, who didn’t seem to understand that we are on our own now and we can no longer afford the principles and pride we had back in Russia.
    “Shall we wait for you here? What time are you coming? I really have to talk to someone.” – I’m texting Ari.
    “Don’t wait for me, I have to go to the gym and then take care of some of mom’s appointments, have to show couple of apartments to some douchebags lol”.
    Great. Looks like I’m not going to Staten Island today. After those several times when they were taking me home and I had warm homemade food, TV and doggie walks in the park, coming back to my tiny dirty apartment with the only window facing the brick wall made me feel like a dog myself, a dog that was dumped by the side of the road, in the rain, with no place to go. Sad little girl with the severe case of the separation anxiety inside of me reminds me that she’s never been gone for too long. Maybe hiding in the furthest corner of my mind, kept there by a bunch of antidepressants I was taking when the feeling of greyish emptiness inside became too dominant over all other feelings.
    The sound of sirens outside brought me back to reality and surprisingly sunny and bright New York pushed all the dark clouds out of my sight and once again reminded me that even if I fall seven times, I’ll have to get up eight. I finish my coffee and look at Julie “the Grumpy Cat”.
    - Let’s go.
    In the subway I put my headphones on and play my then favorite song, “New York” by Jay Z. “And since I made it here, I can make it anywhere”, - I repeat these words like a mantra and the feeling that I will make it too starts spreading through my whole body and I smile at the goose bumps on my arms. My battle has only began, I don’t know where it’s going to take me, but for the first time I got the meaning of the tattoo I got a year prior to coming to the States, a roaring lion on my back. I am a fighter, I am a roaring lion and I will die but I won’t