Stardom

Expectations

I'd not even made it through half of my shift when I snuck off to the back room to take a breather. I slipped off my heels, my feet burning and aching from the amount of walking I'd done in them, and pressed them against the carpet, a satisfied sigh passing my lips as I felt the relief of flat ground.

"This is where you got to."

"Charlie?" I gasped, whirling around to see my boss leaning against the doorframe, a smirk on his face as he glanced at my abandoned heels.

"Takes some getting used to," He nodded, "You'll get there."

"I'm sorry, I'll be right back out," I said hastily, expecting to be in trouble for abandoning my post.

He waved his hand through the air dismissively.

"It's fine, Stacey's covering your tables for a moment."

"I should get back though, she's got enough tables to handle-" I began, bending to pick up my shoes.

The last thing I wanted to do was make people think that I wasn't here to pull my weight.

"You'll never really find that the girls mind covering extra tables," Charlie assured me, "The way it works here, for the most part at least, is with tips. If you work, you get more money, so double the work..."

"Double the money," I finished for him.

He nodded then helped himself to a drink from the bar.

I watched him pour a shot of bourbon, before tipping the bottle toward me as an offer. I shook my head with a gentle smile.

"Why is it so relaxed here?" I blurted out, almost smacking myself in the forehead as I realised that what was meant to be a thought, had made it into a verbal question.

Charlie arched a brow at me, lowering his glass.

"How do you mean?" He asked.

"I don't know," I shrugged, "I guess, calling you by your first name, and an abbreviation of that too. The on-shift drinks, the messing about with the girls... I've never worked in a place with that kind of atmosphere."

He tilted his head to the side with a small nod.

"With respect, you've never worked in a place like this," He said simply. "But, yes, it's true that I have a relaxed structure here... to a certain extent anyway."

He drifted into a nearby chair, taking a seat and placing the glass down on the arm of the chair, his fingers gently resting against it to keep it steady.

"Why is that?" I asked, daring to take a seat opposite him.

"I put a lot of expectation on the staff here, I owe something in return," He began, "The barmen are the embodiment of professional, expected to know how to make every cocktail without having to ask. They must perform their duty quickly and perfectly, every time. They also have to know the limit. Anyone they suspect to be drinking too much must be carefully watched, and if it goes too far, they are expected to call in security."

I was somewhat startled by the sheer level of knowledge he placed on them, every cocktail? I didn't even know how to make my favourite three!

"The waitresses," He gestured to me, "Are expected to serve every customer, no matter how that person presents themselves. They could be a courteous businessman, or they could be a tipsy and sleazy man who's had a few too many and wants to get in your face, still, you are expected to keep your head and approach each customer with grace and poise, and just the right amount of flirtation to keep them interested, and keep them spending money." He took a sip of his drink, whilst I thought on his words, hoping the day would never come where I'd be face to face with one of the sleazy kind that he just described. "Then there are my dancers, I'm sure you can imagine the demands of that job. The hours of work that go into performances, the endless flirtation they have to give to customers. And most importantly, never stepping over the line. Any extras, result in immediate termination. This isn't a brothel. They have to be able to toe that line, have the customers hooked, but never set foot over it."

"That sounds like a lot," I agreed.

"It is," He said simply, "And with all of that in mind, how can I expect you to carry these expectations out if I'm just an unapproachable man in a suit, locked in my office all night making demands. I don't deserve your dedication to your job as that man. So, I have a different approach."

"I suppose I've never thought of it like that," I confessed, somewhat touched by the level of appreciation that he was showing us all by meeting everyone halfway.

"This club is a home. We're a family, we back each other up and support one another, we even relax and share a drink or two, but there are, and always will be, boundaries that cannot be crossed, and as friendly as I am as Charlie, you never want to face me as Mr Redmond."

I thought back to the night I called. The gruff voice on the phone, the one which had been so far from the nice guy that Charlie had been since I met him.

"That was Mr Redmond on the phone?" I muttered.

He let out a hearty laugh.

"I have to maintain a level of professionalism to outsiders," He shrugged, "People take liberties if they see a soft side to someone. My Charlie persona is saved for my employees."

He winked at me and I laughed. I got the feeling that he was a complex person. A good heart, but definitely had more layers than he showed.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew both of our attention to the doorway, where seconds later, Stacey appeared. She glanced between the two of us, then directed her attention toward Charlie.

"Sorry to interrupt, but there's an issue out front."

It was like a switch, I saw the moment where Charlie was replaced by Mr Redmond. It was like it was his part to play, a performance that he was undeniably good at. The level of aggression in his eyes alone was enough to make me almost retreat across the room. I definitely saw why he warned against provoking this character inside him, and I felt bad for whoever was about to come up against him. As Charlie swept from the room with Stacey, I slid my heels back on, my feet crying out in protest as they were forcibly arched to uncomfortable heights, then followed after them.

When I returned to the club floor, the 'issue' was instantly clear. Three bouncers were struggling to haul a drunken man off of the main stage, where he was attempting to get to Asa, who amazingly was continuing to dance, seemingly unperturbed by the goings-on around her. I lingered in the doorway long enough to see Charlie weaving a way through the crowd with ease, drawn up to his full and intimidating height, his crisp white shirt glowing almost fluorescent in the club lighting, making him an easy spot through the throng of men. He was on the stage in a heartbeat, and I gasped as he grabbed the man from behind, dragging him around as if he were nothing more than a puppet before facing off against him. The drunken guy seemed to falter, holding his hands up in surrender, allowing security to get a tighter grip on him, and drag him out through the back. I continued to watch as he exchanged a quick word with Asa, then followed the security's path out of the building.

"He's got it covered," Stacey said confidently beside me, handing me a tray that was laden with drinks. "You good?"

I wasn't exactly sure. It was my first night here, and I'd already seen just how some of the customers could get. I couldn't pretend that it wasn't intimidating, but then again, I also couldn't pretend that I didn't need the money. I'd have to be alright if I didn't want to screw this up.

Just like everything in life... it takes a little getting used to is all. I told myself, nodding to Stacey.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Then get these to table nine, the blonde guy there's a big tipper, work a little charm and he'll definitely make it worth your while."