Sassy college grad Allison is stuck serving booze at L.A.’s glitziest strip club during the ’90s recession. After Hollywood heartthrob Heston Stahl stiffs her on his huge bar tab, she crashes his mansion to settle the check. But she stumbles on Heston’s corpse, and becomes lead villain for police, paparazzi, his stalker—and a target for his killer … unless she solves the crime. HUSTLERS meets VERONICA MARS.
Describe your relevant experience. I trace the words in pencil. Ponder how I’ll distinguish myself on the application to waitress at a topless bar. My usual credentials aren’t going to cut much ice. Graduated with honors. Student council. Co-captain of the swim team. But I’ve never set foot in a strip club before today. Never seen a lap dance. Never worn a thong as an outer garment.
My eyes search the lobby, as if I’ll find answers embedded in its polished mahogany paneling. The walls offer only framed posters of strippers, styled like burlesque advertisements. The young woman behind the hostess desk smiles encouragingly. With her sleek bobbed hair and black cocktail dress, I could envision her at Spago if not for the sound of Van Halen vibrating the red-leather upholstered double-doors behind her. I shift in the cushions of the claret-colored couch. Try to focus on the application laying on the glass-topped table.
What is my relevant experience? Well, back in Austin, I served booze at a campus dive bar as a high school junior. I scored that gig with a fake ID and a stolen name. My father, the Honorable Timothy Patrick of the 98th District Court, learned about that bit of teenaged defiance when police swept the bar for underage drinkers and discovered me pouring shots.
Probably best not to bring up my childhood misdemeanor. Even here.