"The Underground Fighter and His Kitten"
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Sasha "Kayo" Sokolov is a Russian fighter who was sent to America at a young age. One day, he met a young girl by the name of Everleigh Wilson, who taught him how to speak English, and helped him with his s...
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I sighed. I never wanted this for myself. I thought I'd have graduated college by now, become an established author, and be someone I could be proud of. I tried, though—time and time again. Anytime I sent my manuscript out to publishing companies, I was rejected with a hard no. With every no I received, the more I gave up. My heart couldn't fathom another rejection.
If only my younger self could see me now, I'd hate myself.
I pulled my hair tie out of my hair, and with a bit of water, my curls cascaded down ppast my shoulders but just hovering above bra-length. My earned tips were always best anytime I wore my hair down.
Tonight's theme was football due to the super bowl coming up. It might as well had been an NFL porno with the outfits they had given us. It was a cropped jersey that only went as far as covering my nipples, and black spandex that were two sizes too small. To pair it all off were fish-net stockings and high heels.
"Everleigh!" my best friend and roommate, Xyah, called. Xyah was beautiful. She had a darker complexion with the most softest round eyes and beautiful smile that fit her two-toned lips. All she had to do was bat her eyelashes to get any guy she wanted.
Xyah was also the kind of girl that changed her hairstyle faster than she changed her clothes. Whether it was box braids, a silk press, locs, a wig, or her beautiful natural fro—she was going to change her hair in some way or form and look amazing no matter what it was.
Today, she wore her natural hair in a low-sleek bun and had on the same outfit as me.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked me, walking up to me. She turned on the faucet in the bathroom and put some water in her hands before massaging it through my hair.
"I'm just not feeling it today," I answered honestly. When she was satisfied with my hair, she opened my makeup bag on the sink and fished for my eyebrow pencil where she began to fill my eyebrows in for me.
"I'm sorry, boo," she sighed.
"I really hate this job, you know? The boys out there are always so touchy, and these outfits are so degrading," I complained, looking at my body in the mirror. I was practically exposed, and for some reason, it gave men the perfect excuse to objectify me.
"I know, I know. We aren't going to work here forever. They pay really good, Everleigh, you know this... and we have to afford our apartment and college—"
"I know. It's just I wonder how humiliating it will be sometimes if my dad walked into this club or even someone I knew before. It's weird," I said.
Despite having worked at the club as a bottle girl for a year now, I was tired of it. Xyah always said that drunk men pay well, but she didn't mention that drunk men didn't behave well. I couldn't wait for the day to be done with the place.
