SPRING

*************

The weeks passed quickly into March. Though the spring had turned foggy in the mornings, it was typical Bay Area weather. The fog burned off by mid-day, leaving it remarkably warm and pleasant, but then the fog doubled back in the evening, leaving it chilly again.

I talked with Jana once a week and with my dad once every few weeks. My dad continued to cluck his tongue and disapprove of the new job; no surprise there. Jana took the stance of an older sister: mildly concerned for my safety, but supportive of my judgment. Besides, she wanted all the gory details, so she made sure I called her regularly to share my exploits. She knew about the restlessness I felt sometimes, and understood the appeal this job held for me.

Dad was raised on a farm by his German parents. He didn’t want to be a farmer, so he moved to the “big city” of Modesto to find a wife and a steady job. He’d worked behind a desk ever since, and was closing in on the last few years before retirement.

Whenever he started bugging me about getting a “real” job, I changed the subject to his model airplanes, his obsession being all things Aviation. Dad had planes everywhere in the house ― photos, paintings, mugs, models, rugs, blankets ― and was always tinkering away in the garage on his latest toy.

From the little bit my dad had told me about her, my adoptive mother was sweet, a good cook, and kept a good home, though he'd also hinted that she was unfaithful. I think that started after they found out she couldn’t have children. I don’t know how that made sense to her, but she blamed Dad for their inability to conceive. I hated her a little for that, sometimes.

I guess that was one of the reasons I got along with boys so much better than girls, not being around any women when I was younger. It kept my social circle pretty small. I had a few close male friends leading up to junior high, but once the whole ‘you are now becoming a Woman’ thing hit, being around boys constantly became pretty isolating. Either the boys wanted to play doctor, or only saw me as a buddy and ignored me. Even losing my virginity was fairly anti-climactic, after a drunken night in high school. A few attempts at drugs in college didn’t turn out as life-altering as it did for others around me.

As for my birth mother, well, sometimes I wondered about her. When I turned eighteen, Dad and I wrote to the adoption agency for the information. He was really great about it when I asked, and even as I waffled back and forth, he was very encouraging. When we got back a letter with “non-identifying” information about her, I chickened out. I still couldn’t bring myself to read it. I mean, the important part, I already know. She was young, got pregnant, didn’t know who the father was, etc, etc.

There were times when I wished my mom were around. My adoptive mom, I mean. At least she committed to getting me and stuck around for a year. Sometimes I felt the absence of a mother figure keenly, and Dad wasn’t exactly the talk-about-our-feelings type. He tried hard, though, and I loved him for that.

I think that was something I could appreciate in the people I met on my night job. Everyone was putting themselves out there, navigating through their own wounds and broken hearts, trying so hard to be noticed, to have a special relationship, even if it was in the bullshit of broken pasts and stale dreams. How do you create something fantastic, when you don’t feel you are worthy of it? I could relate to those sad bastards because I was one of them, too.

As a Tart, I used courtesy, flattery, manipulation, deception, sometimes even the truth came out to play, all in the name of the score. The Sale. Doing my part for Capitalism. It started long before me, and would end long after me. It wasn’t as bad as the oldest Profession, although sometimes I wondered how far apart the line was between being a Tart and, well, a tart.

I didn’t like to think about how bad things would have to be for me to actually do that, but it was all around me, at night, and I couldn’t help when my mind drifted there. And of course, I wondered about the other girls in the office. Had any of them ever done anything like that? Worked as a stripper, or a prostitute?

I asked Selene about it one night.

“Sure. This job attracts all kinds of girls. Susannah was a stripper briefly, but she didn’t care for it. She was very good, I hear. And of course, Lisbet.” She winked at me. “I would never do that, though, no. I enjoy being in management, it’s less…physical.” She laughed and gave me a shove.

I couldn’t help it; she was so hypnotic to me, with her beautiful accent. I knew she’d told me she’d been in the States for a few years, but it sounded like she had just stepped off the boat. It was wonderful.

¤ ¤ ¤

I loved the peaks and valleys of the nightlife. I didn’t work every night, but when I did, my sales were strong, and I had begun to know the cast of regulars on the West, Polk, and Haight runs who greeted me cheerfully when I worked their bars. Although the gay boys in the Castro were so nice to me and demonstrated their support by occasionally buying a lolli, I didn't usually turn a profit there. The sex appeal of a cigarette and candy girl was powerful — I mean, what's not to love about a girl who serves you, and looks like a cross between a flight attendant and a stripper? — but I just wasn’t a real brief-snapping turn-on for those flamboyants.

I was getting to know several of my fellow Tarts better. Selene and Meredith were by far my favorites, and we chatted easily together about everything and nothing.

Selene was a bit of a mystery, but I had learned a little more about her. Although she dated frequently, it was always monogamously. She enjoyed the nightlife industry and wanted to own her own company. Her presence was very reassuring and her movements always graceful.

Meredith was young, but old at heart. I watched and laughed as men from every culture were drawn to her size and sassy nature, though she was adorably clueless about what to do with them. They couldn’t resist her piggy-tail shaped, corkscrew hair, her sly smile and her infectious laugh. She was single and, though I didn’t know for sure, I thought she might’ve been a virgin. She was pretty conservative, surprisingly, and maybe with all those brothers…well, I think she might have been waiting for marriage. One of my favorite things about Meredith was how hard it was to make her angry.

Susannah, I had learned, was a real love child of some seriously hippie parents. From what I gathered, she had seen it ALL. She knew all the tricks to hard selling, and was happy to share them with me, but nothing fooled her either. I heard her talk of her lovers, but she never mentioned any steady relationship. When I’d asked her about her family, she clammed up and changed the subject back to her favorite philosophy, Toujours gai! I liked Susannah, but she intimidated me, and seemed a bit sad.

The weepy girl from my first week didn’t last one night. Two other girls came in together the following week, but got fired on their first night after getting outrageously drunk and making no sales. Selene was furious.

Rehka was another handful. She carried off the sweet and shy act on the job, but in the office she was bratty and privileged, always complaining and wanting special treatment. She didn't take the job very seriously; for her it was more of a lark, a means to an end. Her parents mostly paid for her college, but a little extra cash helped keep her in designer clothes. She was constantly, maddeningly, always on the phone to her boyfriend. She almost got kicked off the job in my second week due to her cell phone drama, but she sweet-talked her way back in. She hadn’t been doing really well at sales.

Thom’s bakery job had some brutal hours, which explained why he was always exhausted, smelled amazing, and was grumpy about it. The scrumptious aroma that permeated Thom's car was from his signature blackberry-date madeleines. He wouldn't bring any to the office, nor would he tell us which bakery he worked at, so his torment was absolute. Thom lived with and cared for his mom, and he had an older sister who had a big shot job. I think his mom had some sort of degenerative disease, but I wasn’t sure about that. He was also pretty tight-lipped about family.

My favorite distraction, though, as well as my daydream superstar and focus of my lust, was Felix. Felix was very open about some details of his life. He wasn’t shy to say that he had three sisters, and happily shared that his oldest and favorite sister was 40-year-old Sam (short for Samantha, I assumed), who lived back in his home state of Texas. Audrey, the middle sister, lived in Santa Barbara, and was clearly the troublemaker in the family. The youngest sister, Nicole, was just a year older than Felix. They didn’t talk often, but they seemed to get along okay. Felix was 32, and as the youngest he was clearly doted on and spoiled by his older sisters. I suspected this was why he was so arrogant.

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I’d done a little more digging into his life, so I knew that he’d studied electrical engineering at a college in Texas and then moved to Las Vegas. From there, though, the well of information dried up. Felix wouldn’t talk about Vegas, and nobody in the office knew anything either.

Still, it was enough information to keep my fevered crush alive, every time I walked in through the door.

¤ ¤ ¤

One night in early April, I arrived to find that a tall, gorgeous Bettie Page doppelganger was storming throughout the office, muttering angrily. The girls and I watched in awe and a little fear as she grabbed tops, skirts, accessories, and even helped herself to the storage closet. Selene, sitting calmly behind the front desk with her legs elegantly crossed in front of her, gently scolded her for scaring the rest of us. The force of nature stopped abruptly and glanced up, and her face went from angry to stony in a heartbeat. Dropping her assorted booty on the nearest counter, she continued to ignore us as she started working on her makeup and hair.

“Fine,” she said flatly to Selene, fixing her with a blue-eyed stare. “I’ll stay out of their way, if they stay out of mine.”

I wandered over to Selene, and leaned in. “What’s the deal? Seems like she would be a scary Tart! ” I whispered. I mean, I felt bold, but not THAT bold. I glanced back to make sure Tall, Gorgeous and Pissed Off didn’t hear that, but she was oblivious as she concentrated intensely on her makeup.

“Oh, Lisbet is a very special case. She makes a ridiculous amount when she’s here, but her time is extremely limited. She works a few other jobs, and she’s talented and gifted at so many things, she uses this job as a kind of…how would you say? Tension release?” She searched for the right term in her halting accent. I never got tired of listening to her search for words in English.

“Pressure release,” I said absently, as I watched Thom and Felix stare raptly at Lisbet, following her every move. “So, the boys are…quite fond of her, I take it?” I asked, tentatively.

“Oh! Look at you, so discreet! Yes, they are, as you say, quite fond of her.” She winked at me and gave my arm a squeeze. “But you have nothing to worry over. She does not like men as much as she likes women. Even I considered; she is so beautiful and magnificent when she is angry, like today.” Selene admired Lisbet as she got dressed openly in the front room, no trace of self-consciousness in her movements. Her thick black hair fell in front of her silhouette as she bent down to pull on her stockings.

I looked back at the guys and saw their eyes were glazed over. I sighed heavily.

Selene laughed and gave me another shake.

“I told you, she’s a special case! Because she does so well here, we give her the best run, the North Beach run, whenever her schedule brings her in. She’s very valuable to us.”

“North Beach? When will I get to do that one?” I asked Selene, turning back to her.

“Soon, ma cherie. You are doing very well; I’m hoping to move you there within the next couple of weeks. Now, shoo, you pest! Go get ready.” She gave me a little push, and laughed softly.

I headed back to my own station and got to work. I considered getting dressed in the front office like Lisbet, but decided against it. Following up after that display would just seem desperate. I wanted Felix to think of me in a romantic way, but that was not the way to go about it. I headed to the back room and gossiped with Meredith about Lisbet while we got dressed.

I brought in an outfit of my own that night. It was a sleeveless black and pink cocktail dress, with low cut cleavage, but it hung long, near my knees. I topped off the dress with a cropped jacket, buttoned low. We're allowed to do this, but Selene had to clear it first. I was feeling better about myself by the time I walked out.

“Wow, Pale! You are going to sweep the floor in money tonight!” Selene exclaimed, admiring.

“You like the dress?” I asked, beaming.

“Absolutment!” she said firmly, coming out from behind the desk and giving my hip a push with her hand, encouraging me to spin around.

I twirled obediently, smiling. I caught Felix looking at me and flashed him a wink. He smiled at me, but there was a hesitation there, and he turned away, muttering to Thom. The other girls in the office looked me up and down, and were obviously taking mental notes in order to put together something on their own. I was pleased that I had put together an outfit that was classy enough for the company, but original enough that I could feel more like myself when I went out.

“So I’m cleared to go, Boss?” I asked her jokingly.

“Pale, if you do not come back here with $1000, then I’m firing you for not learning anything!” She gave my shoulder a playful bump to let me know she wasn’t serious.

I left the office feeling confident about the night, and decided that I was going to take Selene’s dare seriously. I’d never brought in that kind of money before, but why not? I didn’t really know what I was capable of. The worst that could happen was that I’d be just an average seller. I didn't want to be average, though. For a long moment, I missed Jana, and wanted to call her and share the high I was on, but I took a deep breath and decided to concentrate on my evening.

Lisbet and a girl I didn't recognize climbed into the backseat of Thom's blight-on-humanity of a car. Gods, if the aliens ever did land, I hoped they wouldn’t judge us all, based on that Flintstone-mobile. I shook my head and settled into the front seat, wrapped in the heavenly smell of fresh baked goods. We drove up Market Street toward the Castro to drop off the new girl. She mentioned her name in a clipped tone, but I missed it over the blare of the car radio. Something like Kelly? Sally? Nelly?

Just as we passed the Mission district, the turd-car started to gasp and jerk. Thom looked alarmed, and started pumping the clutch and gas alternately.

“Oh great!” shouted the new girl, stomping her foot.

Before I could register the ridiculous overreaction she was having, Lisbet calmly but firmly began to instruct Thom.

“Drop the car to second gear, and turn on your hazards. There's a gas station a few blocks up the street; can you make it?”

Thom seemed relieved to have someone tell him what to do. I sat quietly, tense, hoping no one rear-ended us as we crawled up one of the busiest streets in San Francisco on a Saturday night. We inched along like a Sunday driver as BMWs, Mercedes, and Jettas honked and swerved around us. Though it seemed to take several hours, we limped into the gas station in short order. I hopped out of the car, and unlatched the passenger seat so Lisbet could get out, since she seemed to be in charge of the situation.

She got out without a word, and immediately commanded Thom to pop the hood. I decided to go use the bathroom, since I didn’t do that before we left. Using a bathroom without the tray was a luxury when your night has started already, so I settled my tray into the passenger seat and took advantage of the chance to stretch my legs. When I came back, I was hesitant to get back into the stuffy, sweet-smelling car, especially with Ms. Anger Management in the back, looking daggers at everyone. I swear, sometimes I thought Selene would take just any girl who walked in the door.

I moved to stand near Lisbet, who glanced up at me and said, “Here, hold this.” She handed me a bottle of oil she'd sent Thom to buy while I was taking my bathroom break, and I took it from her, glad to be helping.

Lisbet peered at the engine, fiddled with a few valves, and told Thom to run the engine for a few seconds. It made pathetic sounds, so she fiddled some more. I stood there enjoying the fresh air — as fresh as you can get in a metropolitan gas station — and decided to strike up a conversation.

“So, how do you know so much about cars? If that IS what this heap of junk is,” I said wryly.

For the first time, Lisbet smiled from the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, right? This is a sad excuse. I’m a mechanic, actually,” she said, hesitantly.

“Wow, that’s cool. That can’t be easy, being a woman,” I said.

“Yeah, it’s no picnic, but that’s why I’m going to school too. I’m working on getting my master’s degree." She pulled hard on what I thought was the carburetor cap, but I couldn’t be sure.

“Holy shit. That’s a lot to have going on,” I said feebly. “You must either never sleep, or have a passion for coffee,”

Lisbet glanced up at me, and her guard seemed to soften a bit. For some reason, it felt like she was checking me out, and I blushed, looking down.

“I do a few other things too, but yeah, I do love my coffee.”

“What are you getting your degree in?” I asked, curious.

“I’m studying to be a mortician. Thanks for the help.”

She slammed the hood down, and walked around to Thom’s driver window. He looked like he was anxious to hear the news, and dreading it as well. Lisbet already had her phone out, and she gave her report to Selene while Thom listened.

“Yeah, his engine is shot. No…no…even if we could get it to the office, we are going to need another car, right away. Yeah….Yeah, I hear you. Will he do it? He’s not exactly easy to…okay. Ten minutes.”

Lisbet hung up the phone, and leaned in to Thom.

“Basically, this car is dead. You could get the transmission replaced, but it’s not worth the price of the car. Ransom is on his way to get us; you two are going to switch for the night. He'll give you a ride back to the office in between drop-offs. Selene’s orders.”

Thom looked angry, but he said nothing. The nameless girl gave him a shove on his seat, and said, “Let me OUT! I’m cramped back here.” Thom’s face was stony as he deliberately and carefully stepped out of the car, letting Tantrum Pants get some air.

As we stood around waiting for Ransom, no one was talking. Though the night had gotten off to a bad start, I was still riding the combined highs of Selene’s dare and my talk with Lisbet, and was secretly happy that Thom’s car had finally died. I would never tell him this, but that car was a monkey on his back.

Ransom pulled up in a sedan; of course it was black. As we pulled away, Thom glanced back at his sad, yellow wreck, pushed to the side for later retrieval. He looked so worn out. I leaned over to him, and gave his shoulder a little bump. He glanced up and gave me a resigned smile. I held his smile, and soon we were both grinning at absolutely nothing.