Rachel slid the door open and stepped out onto the concrete balcony. The sound of the city's rush hour could be heard from down below. Glancing down, she could see the scurrying figures of cars and people, running in all directions, all with places to go. Except her. She was the odd one out. She was going nowhere with her life; at least, that's how it seemed to her. She was stuck at a dead end job as a waitress at a nightclub that played the pounding techno music so loud it gave her a headache. Not exactly her dream job.
Of course, it had been an improvement over her last job. She had used to work as a medical assistant at a doctor's office, but the old man turned out to be a pervert and tried to sleep with her one night. One lawsuit later, he was out of business and she was out of a job. Not exactly what she had had in mind, but she had learned to take what she could get.
She had always enjoyed being able to help others. Her dream, since she was a child, had been to become a teacher. She was in love with the idea of her being able to help kids learn and grow, and maybe even look up to her as a role model. Of course, the schooling for teacher's college was a bit too steep for her tastes, and her parents couldn't exactly help pay for her schooling. Not that they would have wanted to, anyways.
Her parents had split up before she had even been born. To her recollection, she had never seen them happy, or even content, when in each other's presence. She had never bothered asking why her parents had divorced; with her father having a new girlfriend essentially every week, it was pretty easy to figure it out on her own. Her father was a drunk, party-rousing idiot who she hadn't seen in nearly two months since he stopped calling her. That was both a blessing and a curse; her father may have been nearly intolerable, but he was the only father she had. Her mother was nearly his exact opposite; she believed in keeping substances out of the body for 'cleanliness', and the only time she had ever seen her having a good time was when she was at the local church, saying her prayers. According to her Aunt Laura, her mother had once been an exciting woman who was full of life, but Rachel had never seen that side of her.
Throughout most of her high school, she alternated living with the parents, but mainly lived with her mom since half the time her father was nowhere to be found. Her mother had forced Rachel to attend church and Sunday school every week; something Rachel particularly disliked due to her atheist views on life. As soon as she had gotten enough money, Rachel moved into an apartment with a friend of hers in the city, far away from both of her parents. She wouldn't call her life exactly miserable; another guy at the nightclub, the DJ, had asked her out on a few dates, and he seemed like a decent guy. The tips at work were good, and the apartment was in a supreme location. She also got along great with her roommate.
But where was she really going with her life? Was she destined to be stuck as a waitress for the rest of her life? If not, when was the big change going to come? Rachel was used to taking charge and manipulating her way out of a situation she didn't particularly like; with this one however, she felt trapped.
The sounds of screaming from below caught Rachel's attention, bringing her out of her deep thought. Looking down at the street level, she saw a young woman's umbrella fly from her grasp and soar down the street in the sudden gust of wind. The sound of the rain as it began to pour down drowned out the cacophony of city life. After one last deep breath of fresh air, Rachel re-entered her apartment and locked the door behind her.
Her roommate was gone until tomorrow; she had left a week ago to spend some time with her boyfriend in his hometown, which was quite a little while away. Not that Rachel cared; she was happy that Lilia was having a good time with Brent. Plus, she didn't mind being able to spend some time alone.
She looked over at the clock Lilia had insisted installing in the kitchen: 7:49 PM. Rachel was working the night shift at the club, starting at 9:00. The night shifts were usually quite unpredictable, but Rachel had learned to count on at least two things: they were tiring, and they were crazily hectic. Sighing, Rachel entered the apartment's bathroom and took off her damp clothes. Stepping into the shower stall, she turned on the water. The warm water beading down on her skin rejuvenated her energy and warmed her up from the dampness outside.
Stepping out of the shower stall, Rachel wrapped the silk blue bathrobe around her body. She inspected herself in the mirror; the bags beneath her eyes were hardly noticeable, which was always a good sign. Her dark brown eyes were sparkling and full of life, which was very useful in getting good tips. She combed her long, wavy chestnut brown hair, struggling with some of the knots. If there was a downside to curly hair, Rachel would definitely say how time consuming it was. After applying black mascara around her eyes and brightening her lips with cherry red lipstick, Rachel took the bathrobe off and got on her work outfit.
This was probably Rachel's biggest problem with the job. Her work outfit consisted of blue jean shorts, which came quite high above the knees, and a black tank top, which revealed the majority of her breasts. Rachel understood that it was fitting since the main group of customers the club got were young drunk men, but it still disgusted her to diminish herself in such a revealing way. She'd gotten used to it by now, and just tried not to think about it that way anymore.
She went into her kitchen and inspected the fridge for something to eat. After careful consideration, she chose a microwave-able chicken and potatoes dinner. As it cooked, she checked herself out one last time in the microwave's reflection. She looked damn hot; or at least, she would if she wasn't so modest, she told herself. She took the cooked dinner out of the microwave and ate it at the kitchen table, taken careful consideration not to spill it upon her uniform.
After she had finished eating, she threw the dinner container out and exited her apartment. Making sure the door was locked behind her, Rachel began descending the stairs to street level. She never took the elevator unless it was an absolute emergency; it was a machine, which had been created for lazy people who were inefficient at descending or ascending in her opinion.
The underground parking lot gave Rachel the creeps. She always tried to find an outdoor parking space, but since she usually worked late at night until early in the morning, that hardly ever happened. Due to her paranoia, Rachel always kept a flashlight in her purse with her, just in case of power failure. She always parked close to the apartment doors to reduce the amount of time she was outside of her car for. Her car, a silver Lamborghini, had been a gift from her Aunt Laura on her 21st birthday. She adored the car; she refused to let anyone but herself drive it.
The parking lot was packed as she pulled into the nightclub. Rachel let out a groan, knowing it was going to be one hell of a hectic night. Thankfully, the club had reserved parking seats for the staff near the back of the lot, so Rachel didn't have to fight for a space. Wrapping her brown leather jacket around herself as she exited the car into the cold rain and harsh wind, Rachel ran for the staff entrance of the club, trying to get out of the weather.
As Rachel entered the door, the sound of pulsing techno hit her ears and the warmth of the club's heater caused the chill she was experiencing to subside. She was grateful for the latter; the first one she could do without.
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