The Club Deep parking lot is practically empty when I pull in. It’s well before opening, so it’s not surprising, but still, without the cars, this building looks more like an abandoned office building than a popular club. But I suppose that’s at least partially the point. I’ve come early to fill out my paperwork, and I hope I finish it before Cosette arrives. After the awkwardness last night, I don’t know how to tell her about the absolutely ridiculous salary that I’m going to get. I think that news has to come later, with a lot of tequila shots between us. Or maybe I won’t tell her at all. I can’t really see how her knowing that I’m making more than four times her salary is going to help anything. She’s already hesitant about both of us working here, and I want her to be happy.

Early in the morning, the club is almost unrecognizable. With normal fluorescent lights instead of the roving colors, this looks like an industrial loft space. Funny, you never think about the way a night club looks in the daytime. Probably part of the charm. They’re places that can really only exist at night, when you can be in the shadows and your better judgement takes a vacation. Time will tell if my better judgement was present last night or not. One thing’s for sure, my boss at the restaurant wasn’t happy to find out I was quitting, and I wasn’t sticking around for two weeks’ notice either. Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be eating there any time soon.

“Hello?” I call across the club because I don’t see anyone, and I have no idea where Randall swept Cosette off to last night for all the employment stuff.

A man appears from behind one of the bars carrying a box full of glassware. Seeing me, he gives me a once over, and I’m not sure what conclusion he comes to. “You need something?”

“First day as a dancer,” I say, explaining. “I need to fill out paperwork?”

He points behind the bar. “Double doors back there, second office on the right.”

“Thanks.”

Pushing through the double doors, I find a hallway not unlike the one I spent some time in last night, even if this one seems more worn. The fluorescent lights sputter a little, and paint is peeling in places. The second door on the right is open, and I knock on the frame as I look inside. “Hello?”

Randall looks up from the desk and gives me a sarcastic smile. “Oh, it’s you. Mr. Rivers told me that you’d changed your mind.”

“Yeah.”

The disdain is practically rippling off him. “Sit down.” I do, and he gives me a clipboard full of papers. “Basic employment stuff. W-2, direct deposit, employee questionnaire guidelines. Let me know when you’re done.”

He goes back to typing on his computer. I don’t like Randall. I mean, I’m sure he’s got some kind of redeeming quality to be employed here, but I don’t like the vibe he gives off. Thankfully, I’ve done this kind of paperwork so many times over the past few years that it doesn’t take me long, and it’s only a few minutes before I hand the clipboard last night.

“Good.” He gives me another look down his nose. “I heard that you got a tour of the place last night, so we’ll skip that. Follow me and I’ll show you the costume room.”

He leads me out of the room, further down the hallway and through another set of double doors. I fight to keep my jaw from falling to the floor. This room is huge, with double-high racks of clothing filling the space. I spot a little bit of everything, from tiny sparkly bikinis to a corset with some LEDs attached. “Most of these are for theme nights, and we’ll let you know when you need to choose one. Those you don’t get to keep.” He leads me to a corner of the room with more traditional looking club wear. “This is the normal dance-wear. Choose three outfits, you’ll get to switch them out in a few weeks. You’ll learn the schedule. When you’re done, head to the dressing room. I’ll give you and the other new dancers a quick orientation before opening.”

He disappears through the racks of clothes, and I can’t help being a little bit relieved. I look around, taking in the racks of clothes. This is insane. And amazing. The more I find out about this place, the more those two words seem to go together to describe it. I start to flip through the clothes and there’s anything you could ever want, really. I know my first choice the moment I see it: A royal blue 1960s mini-dress that’s covered in sequins. With the lights in the club, that dress is going to look like a disco ball, and I’m thinking hell yes. And the thought of Julian seeing me in that dress, all legs and glitter is a bonus. I can’t keep the grin off my face. No job should be this fun.

I pick some neon orange high-waisted leggings and a black halter bra as my second costume, and my third is a body suit with crystals in interesting patterns. There’s a rack of high heeled shoes, and I pick some pairs in my size that look good but hopefully also won’t make my feet bleed. Randall told me to go to the dressing room. We skipped that part of the tour last night, but I’m not going to go ask him. But it turns out that it’s not that hard to find, the door is behind the main bar.

When I enter, there’s already a bunch of people milling around and getting ready. One of them is Cosette. “Libby!” She jumps off the bench and tackles me in a hug, all signs of yesterday’s awkwardness gone. In fact, she seems like she’s bouncing off the walls. I struggle to not drop anything. “I’m so excited, are you excited?”

I laugh. “Yes. Only a really good job lets you go shopping before you actually have to work.”

“I know, right?” Cosette laughs too, a little too loud and hard. “I saw your locker, it’s over here.”

She points me down the row, and I see a locker that has a piece of paper attached to it with my name. I pull the paper off and turn it over. On the other side is the lock combination along with a note in neat handwriting.

I can’t wait to see you dance again.

There’s no signature, but there doesn’t have to be. I know exactly who wrote it. I put my clothes inside the locker and change into the blue mini-dress while Cosette sits down on the bench by me to do her make up. She’s fidgeting and jumpy while she does her make-up and she hasn’t stopped talking since we came over to the locker, filling me in on our colleagues. “Everyone is super nice. Those girls over there, they go into the orgy room and fool around with each other to make people more comfortable to start having sex. The girls over there in the black pants and bras are the waitresses. She’s a DJ.” Cosette gestures to a gorgeous tall woman who’s putting on some neon eye make-up.

I sit down next to her, strapping on mile-high back heels and pulling out my make-up bag. “This is all going to take some getting used to.”

“You can say that again. Working at night’s going to be so different. But, Libby,” she says, “we have jobs dancing. Dancing.”

A grin spreads across my face. “It’s amazing.”

Cosette draws liner across her lid in a dramatic cat-eye. She’s dressed in a black catsuit with a plunging neckline. She takes in my outfit. “What look are you going for tonight?”

I start to dab some orange color across my eyelids. “Mod disco.”

She laughs. “Sounds perfect.” Again, her laugh is loud.

She looks at me, and I startle, because her pupils are huge. Dread sinks in my stomach. I grab her hand before she can do her other eye. “Cosette,” I whisper, “Are you high?”

“As a kite, baby! Nothing feels like this. They have really good shit here.”

My mouth drops open a little, “I don’t understand.” It’s been a long time since Cosette has done any drugs, but it’s never a good sign. Whenever she gets high is a time I have to worry, because high Cosette doesn’t make smart choices. And I can’t lose her. I don’t think I’d survive it if something happened to her. Plus, it’s our first day? “Why today?”

She rolls here eyes. “Lighten up, Libby.” She elongates my name, drawing it out. “I’m just having a little fun. That’s what this job is right? Fun?”

“Cosette—”

“You’re too much of a goody-two-shoes, Lib. You need to relax.”

“I’m just concerned.”

“Yeah, well don’t be. I can take care of myself.” She snatches her make-up kit off the bench and goes back to her own locker. Shit. Did something happen? I always find out later why Cosette gets high or drunk and wish I could have seen it coming. This is the same. I have no idea what set her off, and I honestly don’t have time to worry about it, but I know that I will all night. Hopefully later, when she’s sober, I can ask her again.

My make-up is almost done when Randall strides into the dressing room. I do a double-take. Is he supposed to just come in here like that? When people could be getting dressed? I glance around, and I see that everyone is decent. But still, it seems weird. “New dancers, with me.”

I shove my make-up bag in my locker and close it quickly before following him, Cosette, and two other girls out into the club. The fluorescent lights are gone and replaced with the dramatic, flashing colors from the night before. The club is still pretty empty, but there are a few guests arriving. No one is dancing yet, even though the DJ has already taken her place and the music has started to pound.

Randall stops by one of the cages that’s on the floor by the edge of the dance floor. “Okay, so the main thing I need to tell you guys about is our tipping system.” He points to a screen that’s attached to the top of the cage, easily visible. It says the number of the cage. “We’ve got an app, and if somebody likes what you’re doing in the cage, they can tip you. Anything above $50, your cage gets spotlights, and the bars glow. I’m sure you’ll see soon enough. Rack up enough tips, and you’ll get confetti from the ceiling. Don’t hold your breath on that though, it takes a lot to get there and even with our high rollers, it rarely happens. Any questions.”

I don’t have any, it seems pretty straightforward.

“Good. You’ll have a break half-way through your shift. I’ll send a waitress to tell you when.” He points to one of the other new girls. “In you go.” He helps her into the cage. The other stranger goes into another cage on the floor. Some of the cages are already taken with girls dancing. It makes sense. You need the mood to be in place when the customers come in. But for Cosette and me, he doesn’t give us a cage on the floor. Instead he walks us to the middle of the dance floor where several cages hang above just above the heads of the crowd. If someone jumped they might be able to touch the bottom. A couple of them are already taken, but Randall has a remote in his hand, and two of them lower to the floor. He gives a mocking bow to us. “Your chariots, girls.”

I look at Cosette and grin, pretending that I’ve forgotten our exchange in the locker room. “Ready to make some money?”

“You know it.” She gives me a high five before climbing into her cage.

Our screens are at the bottom of the cage. I can see Cosette’s, and she can see mine, and I notice there’s a tiny screen inside the cage that lets us know how much the current tip is, plus our total. My stomach lurches a little as the cage is lifted off the floor. I’ve never danced in anything suspended like this. It’s going to take me some time to get used to the way it swings with my movements, to trust that it’s not going to fall and that I’ll be able to dance without being afraid. I look over and I see the same look on my friend’s face: nervous anticipation. The cages lock into place, and for a second, I stand there. I’m really doing this. I’m dancing in a cage. At a sex club. What the hell am I doing?

Randall’s voice floats up from below. “Well? Get going. We’re paying you to dance, not to stand still.”

Sharing a look with Cosette, I shrug. It’s way too late for me to turn back now. So, closing my eyes, I start to dance.