I can feel eyes on me as I round the hood. The attention grabs at me like a hand hovering over a hot plate that’s getting warmer. Don’t give in. Don’t look up at them. It’ll only burn.
I pull on the door and lift myself into the driver’s seat, buckling my seatbelt and turning the keys in the ignition. The feeling of their eyes on me still lingers. Is it their judgement I feel? Or is it the years of paranoia, of constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the glass to shatter, that’s rearing its ugly head?
I reach for my phone, pulling up the text thread that mostly remains dormant.
ME:
Anything?
I watch as the message goes through, chewing on my thumb as I wait. He doesn’t normally take long to answer, but when you’re the one running, every second feels like forever. That’s why I look up. Just as I thought, the Stepford wives all stare in my direction, but I see right through those fake smiles.
I jump when the message comes through with a loud buzz, almost dropping my phone in the process.
ROYAL:
Nothing out of the ordinary. You’re good.
I close my eyes, leaning my head against the seat and sinking into it as I breathe out in relief.
We’re good.
I turn up the radio, check behind me, then pull away, making the short drive to Parlour Tricks. I don’t normally work Wednesdays but I needed the distraction today. I’m slowly getting familiar with the streets of Heart City. We’ve only been here for six weeks after leaving our last town behind. I reached out to Royal as soon as I got the news of Aurora’s acceptance to Heart City Secondary College, and he helped us get set up. Again. He was able to get me a few nights’ work with one of his contacts, but I didn’t exactly want erotic dancer as my sole occupation when filling out any parental forms for this fancy school.
The week before we moved, I scrolled past Claire’s ad for a manager position at Parlour Tricks. I’d just completed my certificate in beauty therapy, but I didn’t hold out hope for such a senior role with no in-salon experience. I applied anyway, I had nothing to lose, and Claire requested a video interview. We hit it off straight away. Her salon had only just opened so she was still developing her managing style, she was excited to learn together, and she loved my background in dance.
I’m not ashamed of what I’ve had to do to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads. Aurora has grown up around confident women and an open understanding of safety and acceptance when it comes to sexuality. I was lucky to fall into dancing the way I did, meeting Presley, another dancer and my only true friend, who not only taught me everything she knew, but was there to watch Aurora when I had to work. All the women in those rooms behind the stage, before the makeup and fishnets, would come together for each other. All understanding of the various circumstances that led us there. I wasn’t the only one with a child to look after on my own. In the back of those clubs, with those ladies, I never felt alone. They gave me something I never had growing up, but still, it felt like something was missing. Something deep inside me that I’d searched for my whole childhood. Something that only slipped further from my grasp when Iran away. How do you find something you’ve never had to begin with?
If it were just me, I wouldn’t worry. I’d try to be like some of the other dancers who are just there for the love of it. Who move with confidence, their spirit full of a contagious zest for life. I try to learn from them as much as I can, knowing it’s me who has the power to make my life anything I want it to be, and sometimes, it works.
In a way, Aurora saved me. Without her, I wouldn’t have the life I have now. I’m glad I didn’t leave sooner. I’m glad I waited until the stars aligned and lit up the path I was meant to follow.
I pass the candy pink façade of my day job and pull into the car park behind the building. With my bag in hand, I step out of my Jeep and lock it behind me. The purple jacarandas looming overhead scatter sunlight over Main Street as I check both ways before crossing over to Sweet Escape. A white ute is parked right in front of the store. All the windows are cracked, and there’s a note stuck to the front passenger window.
My dad’s inside. I have water and a treat. I would follow him but health codes say dogs aren’t allowed in the kitchen, no matter how cute I am. If you think I need help, ask for Westley at the front counter.
The note is signed off with a little, hand-drawn paw print, and my mouth quirks at how unexpectedly cute it is. I peer into the back window to find a black and white Staffy sitting on the back seat. He’s stretched out on a blanket, a bone between his front paws that he happily gnaws at. The huff of a laugh that escapes me is enough for his keen ears to prick up, pulling his focus to me. He tilts his head, his floppy little ears bouncing as he assesses me. One is black, joining a patch that reaches down, covering one eye, and the rest of his face is white.
“Are you flirting with all the ladies that pass you, Patch?”
My hand flies to my chest, startled by the deep, rough rasp that speaks from behind me. A man with a thick, dark beard, facepartly shadowed by his ballcap, looks at me with a friendly smile. “Sorry. Did I scare you?”
“No. I just didn’t hear you come over.” I adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder. “I was distracted by your dog.”
The man looks past me into the back window, and within seconds, the dog is ambling across the back seat, rocking the car as he does. He sticks his thick head through the gap in the window. His owner rewards him with a scratch, and I swear, this dog actually smiles.
“Almost done, bud,” he says to the dog, then looks back at me, smiling again, and I’m not ready for the way it affects me. It’s a damn nice smile.
I’m five-eight. I’m used to being pretty close in height to most guys, but this one must be closer to six feet. His green flannel shirt is unbuttoned over his chest, highlighting the way it fills out the white T-shirt underneath. The sleeves are rolled up his forearms, patches of skin smudged with grime and intercepted with bulging veins. My head tries to make sense of his intense confidence as it mixes with a soft smile and gentle green eyes. I don’t usually take notice of guys this closely, but something about him steals my attention.
I’m careful with who I trust, who I let in. Aside from my daughter, that list has only held two names. But for Aurora, I need to learn how to settle. We have to stay put for once, so she can keep this scholarship and give herself a better life than I ever dreamed of. It’s been years since the last time they found me, but the unease still makes my skin crawl. I’ve kept myself hidden for so long. It’s not easy to let go of the way you’ve always been, the way you’ve had to be to survive.
Claire’s the first person I’ve befriended in a long time. I think that was more driven by her, and her relentless pursuit of ‘badarse bitches stick together’—her words, not mine. She won me over by giving me time to open up at my own pace, filling our days with her own oversharing of sass and personal details.She reminded me of Presley in a way, and soon enough, I found myself letting go of the tight grip I held around my world, bit by bit.
“Anyway, caffeine calls.” I point a thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the door. “Have a good day.”
“You too,” he calls out as I head inside the bakery.
“I was talking to your dog,” I sass over my shoulder. I nearly trip over the threshold when I keep watching him, head dropping down to his feet, a chuckle pulling the side of his mouth, visible through his beard.
