Ransom drove to South of Market, where we dropped off Ms. Angry in short order. I felt morbidly curious how she was going to do, as I watched her slam the door and head into her first bar without a second’s hesitation.

Next, Ransom headed to North Beach, to drop off Lisbet. He stared at her longingly as she stepped out of the car. She waved off the list he had ready for her.

“Don’t you think I know them by now, Ran?” she asked, laughing.

As Lisbet walked away, Thom and Ransom stared at her like she was Aphrodite incarnate, bursting forth from the foam. I shook my head, waiting for them to pull themselves together. Ransom faced forward, and lurched the sedan back into traffic.

As soon as we were a safe distance from Lisbet, both men started talking about the Hothead we dropped off first. They placed bets on how long she would last.

“Won't Felix want in on this wager? Don’t you want to call him?” I asked Thom, who had since popped out of the back and into the front seat, presumably so they could keep the invisible wall up between drivers and girls.

“Um. Felix doesn’t bet,” Thom said uncomfortably.

Ransom said nothing, as usual, but had a gleam of satisfaction in his eye. They were both acting weird, so I dropped the subject.

“So, where am I headed tonight?” I asked, curious.

“We are taking you to Pier 23 as a starter, then you’ll do the Polk run,” Ransom said curtly. “I will be taking you around. Thom is headed back to the office, so don’t expect any special favors. Thom is too soft on you girls.” Thom said nothing, just looked tired.

“Thom’s all right,” I said, weakly.

Ransom cruised up Broadway, turning left onto the famous Embarcadero. Even at that time of night, there was a steady stream of runners, bicyclists, tourists, and street performers, all hoping to catch a few nighttime bucks for their performances. As we got closer to Pier 23, the telltale round neon sign in view, the crowd thinned out, and in a blink we were there, the sidewalks empty. Pier 23 had the feeling of the Bar at the End of the Universe, from Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy — I loved that book.

I briskly stepped out of the car, and Ransom called out “25 minutes.” I waved in acknowledgment, and he sped away. Ransom didn’t seem too bad, but we were never going to be buddies; that much I could see.

Although the whole only-working-one-location thing could be a bit weird, it could also be really fun. I went in and greeted the staff, and made my way to the chilly back patio. The sun had gone down, but the sky was still light, so I took advantage of the relaxed atmosphere, and talked a few folks into lollipops and cigarettes. People took their evening drinking so seriously, almost as if they were getting down to business, making an event of it.

My sales on the back patio were a little thin, so I decided to head into the back kitchen office to re-arrange my stock and take a small breather. I still got a little nervous on my first circuit of the night, even after the time I’d put in.

While I was taking a few breaths, one of the wait staff popped her head in. “You know about our side patio, right? I’ve seen you here before, but you haven’t worked it over there, and there’re definitely some folks hanging out.” She gave me a warm smile.

“Oh! Yeah, thank you. That’s great. I will get out there in a second,” I said, starting to rise.

I turned to the right and saw yet another door I had missed the first time I worked this place, and peeked through it. There was a plain, undecorated area with two large plastic round tables, which would easily hold eight people. I was startled to see a group of men at one of the tables beckon me over.

“Hey darlin'! What you got for us tonight? We're celebrating!” A well-built, exuberant Latino man startled me, gave me a quick side hug and then let me go. The other men whooped briefly, then settled down to stare intently into my tray, pawing through it, carefully pulling out items they wanted and setting them into piles. They all started waving money and talking to me at the same time. Laughing, I threw up a hand to fend them off.

“Okay! What’s this all about? You guys aren’t trying to stiff me, are you?” I asked smiling, looking at each of them in turn.

They were all fit, friendly, and had that sense of being close, like a tight knit family. They didn’t strike me as men who just worked together, but more like a team. Some of them were awfully cute. Some of the faces were a bit guarded, but they all just looked like really good guys. Motherload!

“No, no! We're not like that. We just like pretty girls who’ve got lots of goodies,” said the one on my left, a blond-haired, blue-eyed Adonis.

“Don’t worry, we’re all firefighters,” one of the shorter, huskier ones reassured me. “We just got an award, and we are out to Cel-e-brate!” he said, punctuating his words by pumping his beer in the air.

They all started their deep "Whoop! Whoop!” and I couldn’t help it, I started laughing again. I spent the next 15 minutes with them, swapping jokes and stories. I took six sales, getting generous tips from each. They were a belligerent bunch, but they meant well, and my first instinct was right, they were a tight knit group.

With regret, I waved goodbye, and they catcalled my legs and butt. They meant it to be flattering, so I gave them a little shake on my way out to the main patio. They hollered and stomped their approval.

After that, I only really had time for one quick circuit of the bar. My time outside had led many people to think I had left, so they were grateful to discover I was still there. This led to brisk sales, and I ended up making more than I had expected from this run.

I hurried out to the street to meet Ransom, who had just pulled up in his oily sedan. It barely showed up in the dark of the night. I wondered briefly if he had managed to find a special kind of black paint. It would be like him.

“Hi there!” I said, cheerfully.

Ransom said nothing, just pulled into traffic. After a few minutes with no response, I sat back and decided to keep my good mood to myself.

We drove silently along the Embarcadero, turned left onto Hyde, and headed toward California Street. Ransom dropped me in front of Big Foot, and wordlessly handed me a slip of paper.

“I'm familiar with this route, you know,” I said mildly. He was still holding out the paper, so I took it, and glanced down. Sure enough, it was the usual route.

“Ok, well, thanks for the ride. See you at?” I asked.

“See you in an hour,” he said flatly. He drove away without another word.

I wasn’t sure that Ransom hadn’t killed a man in the past, and those were some hidden depths that I didn’t want to know about. He scared me, no doubt. I certainly tried not to let him know that, but I was pretty sure he sensed it. Like a dog. Or a shark.

With a shudder, I headed into my new circuit, and lost myself in the waves of the night.

The Polk run went well, though it did have a few low points. In Amelie, a guy reached down my back and tried to unzip my skirt. That pissed me off, and I slapped his hand away. His buddy reprimanded him and dragged him off, shooting me an apologetic look.

There must have been something in the air, because at Kozy Kar while I was making change for a customer, a rat-faced guy came up and placed his hand flat up against the bottom of my tray. He jerked up on the tray hard, sending several items flying through the air, and spreading all over the floor.

The next few seconds were unreal, as a bouncer leapt forward and bodily threw that guy out of the bar, shouting at him. Several patrons picked up every single item I’d lost from my tray, bringing them back to me with apologies. I even made a few sales that way; some of the girls felt sorry for me.

I was so shaken that I hardly had time to feel angry. Actually, I felt protected. A few weeks ago I would have been so anxious that I wouldn’t have been able to handle what just happened.

As I got settled into the car, Ransom shared some startling news.

“Change of plans,” he barked. “Lisbet got her tray bought, and has decided to go back out for a second run. Which is good for us, because Sally--,” right, that was her name, “--got into a fistfight, and has been taken off the SoMa run. She’s back at the office, counting out.” He scowled, and looked thunderous.

“Wait, go back; I don't understand. Got her tray bought?” I said, hesitating.

“Yeah, a customer bought her entire tray. It’s rare, but it’s happened to Lisbet, like, three times. Basically, they pay $1000 for the entire thing: candy, cigars, cigarettes, even the physical tray. A girl can decide at that point to cash out for the night and go home, or she can come back to the office for another tray. Selene is the only other girl who’s had that happen, and she always went back out. Lisbet’s in a good mood, so she decided to take the rest of the SoMa run for that Fighter. This means we are putting you on North Beach.”

“Wait, so I’m going to North Beach? I thought Selene said I wasn’t ready for a few more weeks,” I said, trying to take it all in. What’s-her-name got in a fistfight? Holy crap!

Ransom glanced at me with disdain. “Selene left an hour ago. She only comes in for the early shift; I’m always the night manager,” he said curtly. “She’s not here right now, and I need you to go out, ready or not. Now stop asking questions.”

We drove back over to Columbus Ave, and Ransom pulled into a red zone.

“Lisbet’s already worked the first shift, so the hard part is done. The reason this run is such good money is that the wealthy folks love to party over here. Keep your head, and don’t call me unless it’s an emergency.” He handed me a list I’d never seen before. We both jumped suddenly at the knock on his driver’s door window, and he rolled it down halfway.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

“Ransom! Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in so long!”

A black-haired beauty reached in a hand, and oh my goodness, Ransom automatically lifted it to his mouth for an old fashioned gentleman's kiss! I was entranced by her, and took in Ransom’s total lack of composure with silent glee. He released her hand, quickly rolled up the car window, and stepped out in a blink. They talked for a few minutes beside the car, and I craned in my seat to get a better look at her. Damn him and his tinted windows!

After a short time, Ransom got back in the car, and the mystery lady walked away. He looked distracted and deep in thought.

“Anything else I need to know?” I asked him finally.

“Get out! Stop asking me questions!” he said, deeply irritated.

I didn’t take it personally, as it was obvious that the woman had unsettled him. I would have to ask Selene about her later. I could hear her now, "Oh, la, la!"

I smiled to myself. I would have to ask about Sally’s fistfight on the SoMa run as well; I couldn't wait to hear about that!

I glanced down at the list, and made a mental note of which places were nearby. Then I looked up Columbus Avenue, entranced by a lightshow worthy of Vegas: flashing neon-dancer legs waved jauntily back and forth, while a warm glow spilled from late night restaurant windows, and a steady stream of headlights poured from the river of taxis and tourists' cars.

According to my list, I started on Broadway with Kells, and then headed to Mr. Bing's, Vesuvio, and Tosca. After that, it was on to Specs' and the Basque Hotel. There must have been twenty locations on that list, and for a moment I felt overwhelmed. I could hardly believe Lisbet was already done; she had only been out for a little while, and didn’t come out that often at all, from what I could tell. I guess she had that It Factor.

I checked my watch, and saw I had a little less than two hours to get through the entire list. It was going to be insane, but here was my chance to make some real money tonight.

I headed into Kells Irish Restaurant & Bar, and started working my way through a packed crowd. I made good money, but was beginning to lag behind schedule, so I hustled quickly through the downstairs. As I rushed back up to street level, I felt a strange coolness. Reaching back to smooth my skirt, I discovered someone had unzipped it! As I frantically tried to fix it, a guy stumbled up to me and breathed booze straight into my face. He was enthusiastically telling me his life story, and begging me for my phone number. I ignored him and headed down the street to my next bar.

North Beach was unlike any of the other neighborhoods in San Francisco; it boasted an opulence born from its history, always reaching past good enough to truly take your breath away, and evoking a real “Wow!” reaction. The entire district had an assumed sense of privilege, much like royalty. The people were more aggressive, but they expected to pay more for their night's entertainment. I quickly learned that frat boys and male financial managers made lucrative customers. The women — so gorgeous, it felt like I was surrounded by models — hated me as a rule, didn’t tend to buy anything, and they tipped poorly even when they did. I made a point to politely say “Hello,” “Good night,” “Please” and “Thank you” to the patrons, as they seemed to appreciate the good manners.

The hour flew by, and I kept up the pace, hurrying on to the intersection of Grant Avenue and Green Street, which started me at The Saloon, followed in quick succession by Blue Royal, Grant & Green Saloon, Lost and Found Saloon, and Savoy Tivoli. The feel of old-world Italian, coupled with modern conversation and attitude provided a strange but warm backdrop. I was generally welcomed as “part of the landscape”.

At Savoy Tivoli I had a great interaction with Aziz, an Arabic and French translator from Washington, D.C. At Magnet I met a newly married couple wearing fake crowns; his read, “You can run…” and hers finished, “But you can’t hide." They were happy to buy roses, cigars and gum off of me, and tipped me an outrageous $20.

My favorite part of the run started somewhere around Gino and Carlos, where I met three boys I soon dubbed the Musketeers. They purchased a few packs of cigarettes and then declared that I surely must know the best spots in town. They wanted to see what it was like, the nightlife of a Tawny Tart.

“Is it ok that we follow you for a bit? We are celebrating my buddy’s birthday, and we want to jazz up the night.”

“Sure, just don’t crowd me.”

“How much time do we have to order drinks where we are going?” they asked.

“Get ready to down those drinks; I move fast,” I said, grinning, as we made our way into Columbus Café.

As I was working a tough section of a bachelorette party, the boys decided to “help” me by coming over and charming the pants off those jealous bitches. With the boys crowding around me, the ladies’ faces transformed and they leaned into my tray in a subtle fight to coquettishly impress the guys. I turned slightly and caught one of the boys winking at me.

“That ought to buy us a few more minutes of drinking, right?” he asked me enthusiastically.

“Yes,” I laughed and nodded.

Soon I was ready to move on, and I began briskly maneuvering towards the door. I heard a shout, and the guys were rapidly downing shots, shaking heads, and grabbing coats to follow me.

“You can’t leave without us! You are our Muse!” they cried.

“I didn’t think you guys were serious.”

“Of course we are! Look what we just did for you! Those Marina bitches never would’ve looked twice!” They started punching each other in the arm in a congratulatory way.

“That’s true,” I said, mockingly thoughtful. “How about I call you my Musketeers?” I asked. Much whooping and jumping ensued, and they sprinted ahead, thinking they knew where they were going. I laughed and trailed after them.

Our next stop was Amante, and the guys were true to their word. They went immediately to the bar to order shots (smart) and only came over to “rescue” me if it looked like my sales weren’t going well. One would come and buy something, acting as if he didn’t know me at all, stimulating sales in the group around me. They were brilliant, and I rode their success high with them. They acted as if leaving each bar broke their hearts, and complained how hard this job was on their feet, and powers of concentration.

“Well, typically I don’t drink heavily while working,” I chided mildly.

This resulted in a rousing speech over the injustice of management everywhere in the world, which kept them entertained on the way to North Star Café.

The boys charmed their way around the room, and my tray grew lighter. The ringleader asked what I’d like to sell the most of, and I told him the roses. He promptly bet a big burly guy the last two roses I had, and got into an arm-wrestling contest over them. He was a lanky guy who looked like he spent more time in libraries as a kid than playing football, and the contest was over in just a few minutes. They both bought the flowers off of me and, while pounding each other on the back for being such good sports, immediately gave the flowers away to a beautiful girl, each getting a phone number out of the deal. I was amazed at the manipulation that came naturally to these men; getting a prop to seal a deal with a girl was second nature to both.

I called out loudly with our prearranged signal ― “Musketeers!” ― then waited outside for the rush stampede. As they came out, they asked me where we were headed next. I told them I had to backtrack down Grant to the Beat Lounge. They muttered amongst themselves, and decided to follow me there.

My little gang sang songs along the way, greeting strangers and joking with me about splitting proceeds. They continued to implore me to speak to management about being allowed to drink heavily on the job, as it had obviously created more profit. I agreed solemnly, and promised to mention it. While I did appreciate them, I was getting a bit tired of the entourage.

Beat Lounge was right on the corner of Broadway and Columbus. It marked the beginning of the cusp of the strip joints. The bar was all cold modern glass, black curtains, and muted neon strip lights. While we were technically still in North Beach, the warmth of the rest of the strip was gone. The music was so loud, I couldn’t even talk to customers; I just used gestures to communicate. No one was dancing; everyone was pressed into small tables, looking miserable.

The guys' enthusiasm totally deflated, and it wasn’t long before they decided to separate and jump back on the wave of their night. They wished me luck and promised to always tip a Tart in the future. I gave them a smile and a wave, and was relieved when they hopped into a cab.

I was running late, and still had to get through seven more bars in the next 25 minutes. I breezed through Sake Lab and Fuse, skipped Bamboo Hut, and opted to try for Dragon Bar, Velvet and Dolce before finishing up at Crow Bar. They all went pretty fast, as my transactions were more about the sales themselves than the presentation or the flattery. The door guys were all consummate gentlemen, waving me through immediately, smiling, and holding open doors or heavy curtains for me. I made sure to thank each of them, and they smiled back.

By the time I got to Crow Bar, I was presumably rich, moderately happy, and definitely tired. It was pitch black inside, and I did a cursory tour past the air hockey table, selling a last candy bar and pack of smokes.

As I came outside, there were people on the sidewalk everywhere, and Ransom’s black sedan was right in front. I climbed in tiredly, and closed the door, heaving a sigh. He glanced at me, saying nothing, and honked to clear the road, which had spilled over with people.

We cruised silently back to the office, and for once I was too tired to ask questions, though I still wanted to know what happened with Lisbet and the new girl's fistfight.

Back at the office, Thom had left and Felix was putting away the goods that girls were turning in to him on their trays. Susannah was in a good mood; both she and Lisbet were laughing away, occasionally dancing to the music on the cheap cracked plastic radio.

Meredith filled me in on the details about the fistfight. Apparently, some girl had tried to sneak her hand in and grab a couple of twenties from Ms. Anger Management’s tray, and got clocked in the face. The would-be thief’s boyfriend joined in and shoved Sally. When a bouncer came over to get things under control, Sally kept punching and kicking out, and needed to be bodily removed. Needless to say, she wouldn’t be back.

Lisbet’s coup de gras of the night had come from a filthy rich businessman from Japan who’d gotten even more filthy rich from a successful investment and flew to San Francisco for the night to celebrate. He had wanted Lisbet to join him in the festivities, but she was apparently so charming that when she refused, he still bought the tray outright.

I took my time cashing out, mostly so I could talk with Felix afterwards, even though I was dying to know how well I did. I certainly had more cash than I’d ever seen in my life; I could barely get my hands around it.

I took my bounty up to Ransom, and tapped my fingers impatiently on the counter. He glared at me, finished a few entries on the screen, and then added up my take.

“You did well,” he said finally. "I think you did well enough that we can put you back on this run. This is no guarantee that you will keep it. Girls get put on that run all the time; the best ones do."

I started to open my mouth to ask what it takes to be the best, and then closed it when I realized I was too tired to care. I took my earnings and stuffed them deep inside my bag.

My stomach was in knots from trying to get up the nerve to strike up a conversation with Felix that wasn’t work-related. I saw he was still chatting up Lisbet, so I took those few minutes to hurriedly put my stuff away. As he headed towards the door, I called out, “Hey, Felix, wait up.”

He hesitated, and then held open the door for me. We walked outside to the now chilly early morning spring air.

“Hey…um. Listen. I have a question for you, but…” I said tentatively, not looking him in the eye.

“Spit it out, Pale, it’s damn cold out here,” he said impatiently.

I froze, chickening out of asking him to go out with me. I frantically tried to think of something else to ask, while he stamped his feet trying to keep the circulation moving.

“It’s just…I noticed you really have a hard time with the bets around here…are you, ha, like an addict or something?” I stammered.

Instantly I could see I had said the wrong thing. Felix was holding very still, and looked as if someone had just peed on his steak dinner, right in front of him.

“Or something. Are we done here?” he asked.

I blanched, and Felix glanced down at me.

“Shit. Look. You are a cute kid, and I can see you don’t mean harm, though your priorities are a bit out of whack. Not that I’m one to lecture anyone on what they do with their life. Hell, I’m not even sure this is for me,” he gestured back at the office.

“But if this is about my private life, and the stuff I’m dealing with, it’s none of your business. I don’t want to get involved with anyone here at work. Understand?”

I nodded silently, feeling confused and rejected.

“Look, I’ll see you later, ok? We are friends, and lucky for you, I’m a damn good one of those.” He laughed darkly, and then waved good night.

I certainly didn’t feel like I’d made out well that night, despite the wad of cash in my bag. I was not certain I did understand, but I was hoping to at least find out what was bothering him. A small relief was that he didn’t want to date anyone at work. But it was a very small comfort.

I headed home and tried to console myself with my money, reviewing my techniques of the night in my head. I made $185 in 6 hours, which wasn’t bad at all. Not one little bit.