Dawdled on my way to work Saturday and was still only the second girl there at almost noon. No customers, of course. Sat around in the dressing room for a half hour with Kandy, the brand-new 18-year-old black girl, talking about the state of the club. Kandy has only been with us a month, but she works more than I do, and was listing for me all the dancers she hasn't seen in the last few weeks. "The big titty girls are gone," Kandy sez. "The blondes are gone. Just you and me, baby." On Tuesday, she said, one other dancer showed up besides her. The two of them rotated on and off stage all day. Customers see that and bail, sometimes for the day, sometimes permanently.
In the end, the girls showed up, the customers came in, and it was actually a fairly good day. I made bank, in fact. But it's time to find an alternate venue, before the other clubs get crowded with our refugees -- if they aren't already. Those other girls didn't vanish from the face of the earth, I know. I'm half scared that I've already waited too long -- am I the last little rat on the ship, staring at the sky and wondering why my feet are getting wet?
On the other hand, I personally do well at this club most days, because of my regs. Starting at a new club will be like starting from zero, unless I can convince them to follow me up north or down south -- not a sure thing, by any means.