It was cold, very cold. Even though Vanessa knew she was on a moon orbiting a gas giant five times the distance from the sun then the earth, it was freaking cold. This had been done on purpose, lowering the temperature slowly over generations, letting colonists adapt but leaving visitors buying multiply jackets from the very happy vendors near any spaceport. Vanessa stood in the shadow of an alley, her red hair tucked into a hoodie under the New York style pea coat she wore. The fog of her breath reminded her how stupid she was for forgetting gloves.
She peaked out of the alley while adjusting the small duffle bag strapped to her. She looked up and down the street again. She had pawned all she could for cash, but didn’t have enough money to last forever. A noise from deeper in the alley shook her nerves and she moved on. For blocks she tried not to look behind her or over her shoulder. The crowds were starting to thin, she’d need to find a motel soon.
Finally she found a lit sign of hope. The building seemed to be converted from one of the original colony structures dropped from the ship a few centuries ago. Its heavy metal supports and airlock door had more than a hint of rust on them what made her stop was a small plastic sign in the fogged window with two words in plain black letters: Help Wanted. She pushed the lit orange button much harder then she thought she should have had to and an arced support whirred into action. Not so much opening the door as rolling it out of the way enough for her to get through.
The scene was as impressive as it was surprising to her. At least six small circular platforms displayed men and women dancing on poles with a surprising level of aptitude. Vanessa was about to decide that this much “exposure” wasn’t quite conducive to staying hidden when she noticed a peculiar sight. A thirty foot bar, as crowded with people as the rest of the establishment, but with only one bar tender. Vanessa made her way through a crowd, whose nearly equal ratio of men to women she found odd, and got the attention of the bartender.
“I’m here for the job.” She pointed at the sign to help clarify over the loud music.
“All the stages are full tonight.” The bartender answered with an authority that suggested he was in charge here.
“No, for bartending.” She pointed at the bar.
“Can you?” a skeptical eyebrow appeared as he judgmentally looked her over.
“All through college”
“Right.” The bartender rolled his eyes at the notion of a college girl looking for a bartending job on a Galien moon. Vanessa looked at the bartender with a challenging stare as he walked away. She turned her head at the sound of a yelling patron as he failed to get the attention of the only available drink provider.
A quick hop and she was over the bar, a few steps and she had the order. In the same amount of time she had charged and provided the drink. She served at least fifteen more people before she felt a tap on her shoulder.
“If you’re going to work here you’ll need to wear the uniform.” He handed her what Vanessa thought were two cloth coasters, she then realized it was a bikini top. A skeptical eyebrow appeared on Vanessa. Her new boss responded with an awkward evasion of eye contact, and then simply shrugged.
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