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“You good?” Auggie asked, perfecting his cat’s eye in the mirror. “I know you won’t talk to the boss, but you can talk to me.”
“Just some high anxiety,” I replied. “Not up to putting on an intimate show. I can handle the stage.”
Auggie pursed his lips and watched me carefully.
“Quit looking at me like that. I’m fine.”
“C’mere.” Auggie held open his arms, wiggling his fingers with an expectant expression.
I knew from experience he’d stand like that until I gave in, so I caved quickly and slotted myself into his embrace. His scent was a thick caramel and sweet pears, like one of those fresh-baked upside-down cakes, warm and soothing.
“Bestie, did something happen?”
I sighed and quietly told him about my freak out with Luca, excluding names, of course. “It was great until it wasn’t. I dunno why I panicked with him.”
Auggie tapped my nose. “Because that primal brain takes over. Rational thinking takes a back seat and you’ve got to manage the part of you that you keep burying. How’re you feeling about the money loss?”
“Not fabulous.”
“We could buddy up. Lots of the alphas like a little party, and I’d be right there so I could intervene if you need, and take over if you wanted a break.”
“Tomorrow?”
Auggie kissed the top of my head. It wasn’t the same as when Luca did it, but it was comforting regardless. “Whatever you’d like. I don’t want you to miss out if all you need is extra support. Plus, it’s less work for both of us and I can make sure you come.”
I snorted against his chest. “Bonuses all around. Maybe I’ll drop to once a week instead of both nights, and then there’s more competition for my time.”
“You know I’m a big fan of half the work and double pay. Do it. Start weaning them off until you’re only available at your headliner shows and you’ll be rolling in cash.” Auggie gave us both a shake. “Ugh, maybe I make myself too available. Do you think people would pay double for this ass?”
“It’s a pretty cute ass so I’m sure you’d get some bidders as high as you want.” I smacked his butt and extracted myself from his arms. “Let me finish putting on my glitter.”
I gave myself a mental shakedown and shifted from Luna to Selene, painting on the silver eye makeup and the body glitter that I’d expose as I slowly stripped out of the silvery mini dress and platform gladiator sandals. My hair was down in curls today. The Friday crowd gave better tips with curls, and the Saturday crowd was more generous when I straightened my hair. Auggie’s own hair was in full curls as well today. We’d experimented over the years to see what combinations and styles fared the best.
“Good luck, babe.” Auggie grinned as the announcement for my start came across the speakers. “Don’t trip.”
I flipped him the bird and sauntered up the stairs and climbed onto the sparkly crescent moon prop they’d had made for me so the stage hands could lower me down. We had a full main stage and then a bunch of smaller stages that jutted into the audience where up-close performances could take place after the primary shows.
Tonight would just be my hoop. On the rare occasions that I headlined, I would space out performances through the evening on hoop, pole, and silks, plus general dancing on the stage. The performances weren’t long, considering how strenuous they could be, but they always drew a crowd.
I closed my eyes a moment before the spotlight blazed across me as I was lowered into sight. The collective hush from the audience always gave me a rush. I was lowered down to the stage floor, where I hopped off, the moon ascending, and my performance hoop lowering in its place. I knew the routine by heart. Each time I became Selene, I would add in one or two different moves for some flair, but the real showstopper was the drop when I was on silks during a headline. Today would still be fun, though.
They hoisted me up while I hung by my fingertips, pulling myself into an inversion, legs spread into a split. The alpha scents in the space went into overdrive even with the ventilation. My own scent saturated the air, pumped into the air vents using bedding from the capsule nests we all had and rolled around in after every performance.
I moved through a series of poses like water, or at least that was how it would look to observers. For me, it took all my strength and concentration. Each time I was lowered back to the ground, one more piece of clothing was removed, each item being dutifully collected and sealed for purchase at the end of the night.
I craved the burn in my muscles, the sting of striking the hoop with flips and drops, the friction of holding on too tight so I didn’t plummet. Everything about it tested my endurance, my flexibility, and my showmanship.
Gasps and growls rolled through the audience. Even with most of my focus on the hoop, I could see their fingers clenched into their armrests, feel the heat in their gazes. When I was on stage, it felt like every soul in the building wanted me. I knew that time would come to an end eventually, but until it did, I was going to bask in that sense of power.
Sliding to hang by one hand, I unhooked the clasps at my shoulders, letting the slinky dress I wore float to the floor, leaving me clad in a silver thong-bikini.
I scaled the rope, preparing for the next move. One more drop had the hoop crashing against my hips, stealing my breath as I transitioned into a split and flip. I was painted head to toe with a long-lasting foundation to hide the bruises from my practice; the glitter decorating my skin above that further obscured anything that insinuated I wasn’t as perfect as they wanted me to be.
By the time I was down to my shoes, I was bordering on exhaustion. It had been a long-ass week, and my stamina was reflecting that.
Okay. Last move.
I dropped backward through the hoop, hanging by my knees, and gave the crowd some dramatically blown kisses while the stagehands raised me out of sight. I rolled onto the platform where no one could see me, sprawling there to give my body a moment to rest.
