Carl turns to leave, and my mouth opens before I can think better of it.
“No.”
“No?” He turns back slowly. “Did you just say no to me?” He takes several steps toward my area, and I clench my fingers into a fist to keep the tremor at bay as much as possible. I feel them going up and down my spine, but I refuse to let my hands shake.
“My contract says I’m only to perform.” I swallow the fear in my throat. “I… I don’t dance. I don’t do private events.”
I shake my head as I speak, trying to be CJ. Trying to be strong and stand up for myself. CJ is the name the club gave me and one I try to be when I’m here. Well, when I dance. CJ is the brave one who jumps off the scaffolding and rigging. She flies and smiles at the people below. She entices and flirts, even if she never speaks a word. Unlike me, who would ratherhide in my blankets and never come out if given the opportunity.
For his size, Carl moves fast. He grabs my hair and pulls back till my head is facing the ceiling and he’s looking down at me. My hands fly up to his wrist.
“Yourcontractsays you’ll do whatever the fuck I tell you to do. If I say dance like a chicken, you dance and cluck like a fucking chicken. You will go to room 3, and you will do everything you can to make them happy. You understand me, girl?” He pulls tighter and I wince, closing my eyes to keep from crying out. “And if you don’t, I’ll make sure you never perform again.”
My eyes snap to his, and the smile on his face shoots true terror through me. The way he said “perform” makes me think he’d do more than fire me. And if I can’t move, if he hurts me enough that I’m no longer able to do this, I might as well die. Because without this job, the money, I’m dead anyway.
I nod, as much as I can in his punishing grip, and he snarls as he lets go before pushing me back up. I catch myself on the table with my hands to stop from putting my head through the mirror.
“You got five minutes. Don’t keep him waiting,” Carl says before I hear him move off. I don’t dare look in the mirror, too scared to see if he’s watching me.
“I hope he makes it hurt,” Trixie says close to my ear before she giggles and walks away.
I’m not sure if she’s talking about Carl or the guy in room 3. The one who just paid to do whatever he wants with me, for however long he paid to keep the door locked.
I finally look in the mirror and see my makeup is ruined. Without much thought, I grab my foundation and reapply. It’s autopilot, nothing more. I’m not thinking beyond how to get out. I’ve done my face up so many times, I can do it in my sleep.
Once I’ve finished, I turn and stand, my eyes on the door that leads out. The one I know is unlocked because the lock doesn’t work. Anyone can come in here if they want, but they don’t. Those outside are just as afraid of the stairs giving way as those inside.
I could make a run for it. Could just run and never look back. I only have the stuff I brought in with me and a few hundred dollars that I got earlier because the girl forgot to pay me last time. It’s not much, but it could get me a bus ticket. No idea where I would go, but anywhere would be fine. Right?
“CJ.” Carl’s voice booms across the room as he looks at me with narrowed eyes.
He must have known I would leave. I should have just made a break for it the second I saw him gone. I waited too long. If I tried to run now, he’d have one of his bouncers grab me in the back alley. And I’ve got zero doubts that they would take their time bringing me to Carl before he did whatever he threatened me with. And that might all happen before I’m still forced into room 3 anyway.
But even if I run and manage to make it out, there’s a part of me that knows I have no place to go. That if I run, it will never be far enough. I have responsibilities. Ones who come to collect every month, and they aren’t the type to just give up on what they consider theirs. They would come after me. It could be weeks or years; I would never be able to sleep with both eyes shut. And even if I had what they wanted whenthey came to collect, it wouldn’t be enough. Not even my death would appease them, but they would take it anyway.
With nowhere to go, no out in sight, I put one foot in front of the other, passing Carl as I exit the dressing room and walk across the bar. I ignore everyone, from the patrons vying for my attention to the dancers onstage. I keep going till I get to the hallway with the private rooms.
When I reach room 3, I take a breath. Close my eyes. Wish to be anywhere else.
Thenwalk in.
Chapter 5—Tommy
Not good.
This is absolutelynot gooddancing. It’s downright torture to watch. Perhaps Carl knew what he was doing by not putting her in a private room until now.
This girl has zero idea what sex appeal is. Unless she’s doing it on purpose, but I’ve got a feeling she’s not. She’s a dancer. A true dancer. My mama dragged me and my siblings to enough ballets that I know one when I see it.
She’s got talent, I’ll give her that. But talent for the stage, not a strip club.
Which begs the question of why she’s here.
Her act before drew me in. There was something about her that I saw and wanted almost instantly. Which is probably what more than half the people felt. But unlike them, I got to her first. And that was only because Carl knew not to deny me, even if he still charged a fortune. One I’ll be expecting back after this.
She’s stiff in her movements, all tight elbows and smooth legs. Her dance of choice is meant for Mozart or Bach, not for this bump-and-grind shit they’ve got pumping through the speakers.
She’s also a football field away from me. The rooms are bigger than some of the other strip joint private rooms I’ve been in, but not as much as she’s making out. I’m sitting in the overstuffed, overwide chair on one back wall, and she’s as faraway as can be, practically backing herself into the wall, leaving barely any space between her and it.
