Doubles (eBook)

Chapter 12

Leela

Leela Tarver stood in the shower and let steaming water course over her body. At six feet tall in her stocking feet, she hated the dinky, low showerhead of the hotel room and longed for the hand-held shower attachment of the bathroom back home in Texas.

Daddy bought it once after he worked a real good job. It was one of two frivolous luxuries her dirt-poor daddy had made. He was tall, too, and put the showerhead up high on the inside the shower. He said that was for him.

He had also bought a widescreen TV and he said that was for all of them. She loved that showerhead. She could stand under it, without bending, wash her hair, and with its pulse settings, it was heaven.

Now, here she was in Los Angeles. It was not like the movies she’d seen and dreamed about and not how she thought she’d be living. Her money did not go far, and this room in this rundown, tired motel was all she could afford. Still, she felt happy. Yesterday, she absolutely lucked into a great job, and last night, she’d met Javier, the Puerto Rican boy still sleeping on the bed.

As she rinsed off, she thought of how she and Javier could find a better place together and set up housekeeping. He was nicer to her than anybody had ever been. They were both young. They could both work. She thought of how it was when she first met him, and though so different, everything clicked. She could love him.

The shower door opened, and Javier looked her up and down.

His lips curled into a slow smile, dark eyes smoldering with sexy intent. Excited by his overpowering look of desire, she caught her breath.

“Ooh, Mama, do you need any help in there?” he said.

Leela reached for his hand, and he stepped into the shower stall.

He was several inches shorter than she, but solid and built like a god. He got in the shower, and behind her and started kissing her neck.

Five minutes later, he was out of the shower and Leela stayed, enjoying the spray. That was nice and like the previous night, a little fast. So unlike Lyle with his amazing slow hands. Lyle, was her boyfriend all through high school. Lyle was a bit hurried when they’d first started making love but quickly developed a sense of what to do. There was hope. She bit back a tear. Lyle was left behind. There was no going back to Texas, or high school, or Lyle, and she was sorry about that.

She’d met Javier at a bodega where she stopped to pick up some food after work. Her Spanish was limited, but she knew the men in the store were saying things about her.

Javier came to her aid and addressed her in English. With one sharp word to the men in the shop, their stares stopped. Instead of making her purchases, they started talking. Not wanting to go home alone, they walked the streets, and he held her hand. When they arrived back at her place, all things seemed possible and being with Javier seemed natural.

He said it was ‘love at first sight.’ He said he’d never leave her. Maybe, over time, Javier would learn to cuddle her. Maybe, when it wasn’t so new. Leela stepped out of the shower and dried off.

She had made more than $300 in tips that previous day, and there was no food in the room. She was going to treat him to a huge breakfast. Leela ran her fingers through her wet and tangled mass of long blonde hair. Smiling, knowing her skin was pink, soft, and shimmering from the heat of the shower, she stepped, gloriously naked, into the room.

Javier was gone.

The door was ajar. Leela ran to the chair by the door and opened her bag.

Leela fell on the bed and pulled the pillow over her head to muffle her sobs. There’d be no breakfast today. Javier had taken all her money.

Hours later, and groggy from sleep, the bzzzt! of Leela’s cell jarred her awake. Mr. Benedict, her new boss, asked her to work the lunch shift. He said that he had observed her. He said she was a great server and that a group of important Japanese businessmen would be there and he wanted her to wait on their table.

He previously told her she had been hired without references because they were desperate and short-handed. His star servers were gone--one on maternity leave, the other left with no notice. She could prove today that he had made a good decision.

Leela smiled as she hopped about, putting herself together. This was opportunity knocking. From her first day at work, she already knew that Japanese businessmen loved blonde American women. No matter, from what she saw when she worked there the previous day, she was grateful. The businessmen tipped very well, and this was going to be a large group.

Leela got some ice from the hallway and wrapped it in a washcloth, holding it under her eyes for fifteen solid minutes to take down the swelling from crying. Her stomach growled from no food. She brushed on some mascara and applied lipgloss and a touch of powder to her nose. She brushed out her platinum hair until it fell like a waterfall past her shoulders and down her back.

“Daddy always said you was my best feature,” she said aloud, coaxing the hair to drape around her face. “Maybe you can help me get some good tips again today because this girl is hungry.”

Leela opened the door to peek out. It was already hot and muggy. She could smell the stink of pollution, a low-running stench billowing up through grates all throughout and beneath the streets of this neighborhood. Getting her bearings, she breathed in one unpleasant smell after another.

Someone nearby lit up something that smelled like it had been rolled from spent hay and feces. He smiled at her, and she smiled, but the smoke made her cough. When she lifted her hand to cover her mouth, she also wiped her upper lip, her brow, and the back of her neck. Already, a sheen of sweat had formed. She turned back into the room. Her uniform was made with spandex and polyester. Besides being impossible to wear outside in this heat, she wasn’t supposed to wear it outside of the restaurant. She packed it in a plastic bag, threw on shorts and a tank top, stepped into a pair of flip flops, and left to begin her hike to work.

On the street, Leela immediately re-thought her clothing choices. This was so different from the wide-open spaces of back home. In Red Clay, Texas, everyone knew each other, and the boys were respectful. Back home, she grew up with all the good old boys and they might stare, might tease, but would never say anything trashy. She had just picked out her coolest pieces of clothing. As she loped down the street, men were leering at her bottom and breasts, none of her exactly hidden from view.

“Hey, Mama, why don’t you come shimmy over here? I got something for you,” a man yelled to her from across the street. He bent forward, gesturing wildly to his genitals with two pointed index fingers, jerking his hips back and forth. He howled, and his friends did, too. They all howled, and whooped, pointing at their crotches, jerking their hips and running their tongues along the bottoms of their lips.

Leela’s face flushed. She was wearing simple, summer clothes. Lyle, her old boyfriend, always said that with knockers like hers, her tiny waist and her big hips, she could wear a nun’s habit and people would still think sexual thoughts.

She could fend off these rude boys, no problem. Underneath the boobs and booty, she was big and strong. Besides that, her daddy had taught her to fight like a bar brawler.

She kept walking at her normal pace, right down the center of the sidewalk, passing people easily. Right when she was feeling cocky and confident, two men that catcalled from across the street and looked like trouble, gestured to her. The gestures indicated that they were going to cross the street. They began the hip-thrusting movements again. Leela crossed her arms across her chest, looking forward and walking faster.

By the time Leela entered her building, she was so done with the leering, catcalling boys. She was overheated and sweaty. The air conditioning felt amazing as she walked toward the elevators. Minka’s Restaurant was located on the top floor.

She would only have minutes to get to the staff dressing room. She needed to wash her feet in the sink. The flip flops were open and her feet had become dirty from the street. She needed to splash her body and neck at the sink, too, and dry herself under the hand dryers before trying to squeeze herself into her snug uniform.

She got off the elevator on the 14th floor and walked across the hallway to the special elevator that would take her the rest of the way up to the penthouse restaurant. The door opened when she inserted her key card. As soon as she entered the elevator, she saw that a paunchy, well-dressed, middle-aged businessman was already inside. He boldly looked her up and down. When she hesitated, he bowed and gestured with his hands to usher her in. She nodded a smile and entered.

Leela hit the button to close the door. As the elevator began its ascent, she felt him move closer behind her. He had moved in so close, she could feel his breath on her neck. She stepped forward a step. He did, too.

She might have said something. but he could have been a patron of the restaurant. Mr. Benedict had cautioned her to always be more than polite to any of the guests.

This man was white, so no chance of offending one of today’s future tip providers, but he was probably there for lunch. An odd chuckle erupted from him. It sounded like phlegm...