I'm a cocktail waitress in a seedy bar, squeezed into a bunny costume that was more humiliation than fabric.
In the VIP booth, the tycoon's son, Bruno, was arguing with his one true love, a black card pinched between his fingers.
"Five million on this card. Are you sure you don't want it?"
The girl, dressed in a janitor's uniform, sneered at him from behind her mop.
"My money is clean! You think being rich makes you special? Go on, ask anyone. Who would ever love a person like you?"
Furious, Bruno grabbed me. "The card is yours. Do you dare to love me?"
I took the card. "I dare."
Later, the girl had regrets.
And Bruno? He came back to me.
"Victoria is bothered by our past," he'd said. "Maybe you should date someone else for a while."
"Fine," I'd replied.
