Chapter 1 Ophelia's life

Ophelia's POV

"Lia, can you bring two bottles of beer to table 17? It seems Sir Arnold wants to have a little chat with you," Ava Castillo, my best friend, and a co-bottle girl at the strip club said to me as she stepped into the dressing room.

I sighed in frustration on hearing the name of the club's most valued patron and one of the numerous old men who had proposed to be my sugar daddy from the first day I started working at the "Sex in a bottle" strip club.

"Okay, I'll go now," I feigned a smile at her, to which she nodded as she walked up to me and stood at my back with a calm mien.

I looked into the mirror and mentally cringed as I took in my sultry outfit which consisted of a tiny black leather short, with half of my ass cheeks exposed, and a leather bra, which had a luscious amount of my soft boobs exposed.

I slowly ran my fingers down the leather strap which was joined from my shorts to my boots and sighed again. The make-up I had on my face made me look like a whore and honestly, I felt like one even though I was merely a bottle girl at the club.

Right from when I was five years old, I had always wanted to be a chef at a Michelin-star restaurant but the universe had other plans for me as my mum died barely a month after I clocked ten, and that sudden grievous occurrence took both my dad and me off guard and our peaceful and harmonious lives went spiraling downward as dad started indulging in bad vices and decisions.

He became a chronic chain smoker and an alcohol addict. Not to mention how he used half of his settlement fee which was paid to him after he was laid off from work to gamble and you bet me, he lost and about half a million dollars went down the drain just like that.

But he still managed to save a reasonable amount of money which he would use to send me to culinary school and that was the only reason I still felt happy with him.

I thought I would attend culinary school, graduate at the top of my class, talk my dad into getting a loan for me with his connections and then open a five-star restaurant but my sixteen years old dream never came through.

A day before I was supposed to take the entrance examination into culinary school, my dad suddenly had a life-threatening seizure and was rushed to the hospital. On getting there, he was resuscitated and we were given the heart-shattering news of his diagnosis.

My dad had stage three and stage four of both lung and liver cancers respectively.

He finally got the reward of smoking and drinking alcohol like a well.

There and then, I knew my dream to be a chef was as good as dead. I had to devote my time to taking care of my ailing Dad. It wasn't as if he had any other family apart from me anyway, and just like that, I, Ophelia Alvarez gave up my passion to be a chef and got myself registered in a cheap-ass university, training to be a teacher.

"Lia, Ophelia!" Ava's voice drifted into my ears in form of a high-pitched tone and jolted me out of my reverie.

"Yes, what's wrong?" I tilted my head sideways with confusion washing over my face to ask her.

In response, she scoffed, "What were you thinking so deeply about?"

"Nothing much, I was just mulling over how blissful my life is and how proud my mum must be watching me walk half-naked, and serving drinks to old perverts in a strip club. She must be so elated and proud to have a whore as a daughter," I muttered, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Ophelia, we both know that you are everything but a whore. I mean, you and I both, aren't doing this just because we want to. We are only doing this because we have to and we don't have connections and the qualifications to get a respectable job elsewhere. Your mum would understand everything. Stop beating yourself too much over this. Everything will be fine, Lia. You are supposed to be the optimistic and mature friend between the both of us, why are you suddenly so dejected?" Ava turned me to face her as she interlaced our hands together.

I smiled at her and shook my head. "I don't know either. I just feel very miserable today. I checked my savings balance and realized that I've barely saved one-third of the required amount for Dad's surgery which is in a month. What am I supposed to do when the time comes? Will Dad also die and leave me alone? Am I a good daughter? I can't even do anything for my dad," I full-on started crying as I said the last word, I didn't care that I had spent almost two hours on my makeup. I just wanted to let it all out.

My frustration and distress.

"Lia, I can help you with that. I already told you several times and you told me you don't want my help. Why don't you? I'm sure we can save more than enough together for his surgery before the due date. Let me assist you, babe," Ava sighed, gently squeezing my hand.

I shook my head and with the back of my hand, I cleaned my tears off, "No, it's fine. I'll be fine. I can do it. I'll ask Rodrigo to allow me to work overtime, starting tomorrow. I can't bother you, Ava. I'll be selfish to do that," I politely declined her offer, which made her roll her eyes in a mixture of exasperation and frustration.

Ava was also like me and I mean, she was motherless and had a scumbag as a father. He'd beat her up and forcefully take the money she made from the club whenever he was in one of his foul moods and gamble everything away. So, I knew better than to bother her for money, even though I was sure she'd give me if I said the word.

I didn't want to be a burden to anyone, especially not to my best friend.

"But always remember that I'm here for you whenever you need me, okay?"

"Okay," I nodded with a grin.

"You look hideous, Lia. Your make-up has been smudged with mascara. You're not by chance planning on going out to serve your loyal customer while looking like that," Ava feigned an aghast expression, and this time, it was my turn to roll my eyes.

"I would if I could to get that man away from me but I sadly can't because I need money," I muttered as I plop down on the chair in front of the mirror to redo my makeup.

"We both know that man will always have heart-eyes for you even if you were dressed in the trash. So, that statement of yours is impossible," Ava laughed, and I just snorted as I retrieved my makeup supplies from my cosmetics bag.

"Fuck, I almost forgot I had a client to attend to," Ava squealed with wide eyes.

"Bye, I gotta go now," And with that, she sprinted out of the dressing room, leaving me to stare at my distorted appearance in the mirror.

+++

"Flower, you are late," Mr. Arnold, "my most loyal customer" and the most respected patron of the club smiled at me as he outstretched his hand to take mine into his with a lustful smile playing at the corner of his wrinkled lips.

Mr. Arnold had to be well over seventy but he had lied to me that he was sixty-two years old. Even though he lied, his wrinkles spoke for themselves.

"I had an emergency," I feigned a remorseful countenance as I gingerly slipped my hand into his aged one.

"Oh, it's good you're here now. Pour me a drink and sit on my thighs," He patted his wobbly legs and I internally cringed as I gazed at his crooked, brown teeth on display and the way his lips seemed to slack at the corners as if he had lost proper functioning of them.

I bit back the laughter that bubbled in my throat and smiled at him as I poured the liquor into the beer mug, "I'd love to sit on your lap but sadly I have another emergency to attend to. But don't worry, Mr. Arnold, when I'm done with my affairs, I'll join you in your private room for the rest of the night," I winked at him, and I watched in amusement laced with disgust as he smiled back at me and nodded his stiff and big head in understanding.

"Alright, flower. I will hold you to your words and wait for you," He delivered a harsh smack to my ass and grinned at me.

I suppressed the urge to deliver a befitting slap on his face with anger bubbling inside him as I smiled through my teeth at him before I took the empty beer bottle with me to the backroom.

Fuck it, I hated my life.