“So, you haven’t seen Paul?” Audrey asks, her voice coming through the line, low and timid. I’m not sure if that’s because she fears me yelling at her because of her concern, or that she’s sensing my lingering anger about being thrust into this shit.

“No, he said he wasn’t going to bother me as long as I keep up my end of the deal.” I have until the end of the month to get him the next five thousand dollars. Mentally calculating the money I’ve earned swinging my tits on that stage over the last week and half, he’ll be in the club on the first for non-payment.

“He doesn’t always do what he says he’s going to do. That’s the only reason I ask.”

“I hear through Brittany that Jimmy doesn’t want him in there.”

“Paul is his own man, Mia. He goes where and does what he wants.” She laughs proudly— that pisses me off.

“How are things going in Texas?” I ask, changing the subject. The thought of Paul walking into that club on any given night isn’t something I want to ponder on.

“It fucking smells like shit.”

“You’re on a farm, Audrey. With animals. They shit.” I smile, holding in my laughter.

“I know you’re happy you sent me here, but really Mia, I want to come back. I’ll even dance. Maybe between the two of us, we can pay it back sooner,” she whines.

“Nope! I have this under control.” I lie, knowing I don’t have shit under control.

I’ve taken that stage ten nights in a row and haven’t gotten any better. When I’m not at the ballet studio, I’m online studying pole dancing videos. The only lesson I’ve learned so far is that I’m a ballerina, through and through.

“Aunt Donna is always up in my shit. She wakes me up before dawn. Before dawn, Mia!” she repeats as if the idea is most absurd thing she’s ever heard. Although to Audrey, the only sunrises she’s seen are those on her way home from the bar or partying from God knows where.

“She’s doing us a favor, Audrey. I don’t want to be an asshole, but you are safe and as long as you’re not hanging out with bad people, you seem to be doing okay.” I cross my fingers, hoping she will be okay while being locked away on that farm with no transportation or phone to contact any of those shitty people.

“I’m just so damned bored. Aunt Donna tried to get me to ride a damn horse the other day. It’s bad enough I have to shovel their shit!”

“Take a class. Isn’t there a community college nearby?”

She groans. “You and your damn college. I’ll go when you do, okay?” she says sarcastically. I’d love to go back—if the option were mine. Shit, I’d like to have the time to ride a damn horse. The doorbell rings and I hop off the couch.

“I gotta go. I’ll call you again in a few days.” I hang up before she has time to launch back into another spiel about wanting to come home.

I open the door. Brittany stands, smiling excitedly on my small front porch with a garment bag flung over her shoulder and a little boom box speaker in her hand.

“Hey. Come on in.” I wave my hand into the small space with a smile. I’m thankful that despite the fucked up situation Audrey has landed me in, I may have actually found a friend.

“You ready to learn some moves?” She shimmies her tits, stepping into my small cottage. Save for the bathroom, it’s all one room. The only divide in space is done with the grouping of furniture. Bedroom in one corner, living and dining share a spot, and then the section off the far wall, my kitchen. “I love your house! It beats the hell out of my dorm room.” She smiles, dumping the bag over the back of the small couch and taking off her coat.

“Thanks. It’s cheap, and well, you know how important that is.” I laugh, knowing she does. Over the past few nights, in that dingy, dark dressing room, I’d told her more of what Audrey buried herself in and what I’m trying to dig us both out from under. She’s opened up about growing up being jostled around from home to home and trying to find her footing in society.

When I got off stage last night and failed, yet again, to make more than twenty bucks on a dance, she took pity on me and volunteered to drive into the city earlier than our shift so she could give me some pointers.

“You ready to do this?” I nod, nervously. “Don’t look like you’re about to throw up. That’s rule number one.” She thumbs through her phone and syncs it to her little speaker. I take a deep breath until the thumping music comes through the little device.

I vow that after my stint as a stripper is over, I’m never listening to music. Ever. I’ll want nothing but absolute silence. Each girl at work has her own playlist, so every genre has been ruined for me.

“First off, you have a rocking body and you’re extremely flexible. I think your music is part of your problem. You’re letting the DJ pick your shit and that doesn’t work. We have to find what your body naturally moves to.”

“I don’t think my body moves to any of that kind of music.”

“That’s the other part of your problem.” She points at me with a smile. “You have to come to terms with being up there. We’re all up there for different reasons. For people like Gigi, it’s a way of life. But for you and me, it’s a merely a stepping stone. You need to keep that in mind while you’re there. Don’t fight it, because everyone will notice.”

I nod, that making more sense than the “no oils, no glitter, shave your legs against the grain, and your bikini area with the grain” pointers Jimmy gave me when he hired me. The music changes again and it’s slower, erotic. Its beat is more seductive than pulsing. Brittany watches my reaction and I tilt my head from side to side, kind of liking it.

She starts moving and encouraging me to follow in her lead. She prances seductively toward the front door and slides against the wood, grinding toward the floor, opening her legs in a way that would surely leave little the imagination if she weren’t in leggings.

She steps away and motions toward the door, still moving as she moves to the side. I try to copy her movements, feeling silly, but more confident than I have in any other time.

“See, you’re doing it. Feel the music. Close your eyes if you have to,” she calls just over the volume of the slow rhythmic beat.

She makes me put on a pair of platform, glittery torture devices on my feet and we spend the next hour prancing, dancing, and grinding against things in my little house. She’s perfect in every move, me only mediocrely improving, but with a new playlist created, I feel better about taking the stage tonight.

We both fall on the couch and kick our glittery-heeled feet onto the coffee table. Her head falls to the side, looking at me with a sincere smile. “I think you’re going to beat your twenty-dollar record tonight.”

I burst out with laughter, the idea of how disillusioned I was going into this, thinking it was going to be a lot of easy money, coming back to me in full force. I made fourteen dollars that first night and haven’t made more than twenty bucks a dance since.

“Good thing Jimmy schedules me for five dances a night now. I only need like eighty-three more nights this month to earn Paul’s next installment.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks, looking up to the ceiling.

“I don’t know. Skipping town has come to mind,” I laugh, but it’s humorless. “I talked to Audrey just before you got here. She said it wouldn’t surprise her if Paul came into the club at some point. I’m already scared as hell of him that if I saw him while I was up there, I’d probably piss myself.”

“Don’t worry about him. Jimmy won’t let him stay. I’ve seen him in there a few times, but Jimmy was always quick to run him off once he realized he was there.”

Her confidence isn’t contagious and the worry still roots in my belly. Just seeing him would upend me enough to ruin my night. I’m not going to have the money and so I’ll have to face him sooner or later.

“How’s Audrey? She stayin’ clean?”

“I think so, but she’s getting antsy already. I kind of figured farm life wasn’t going to be for her, but I thought between the hole she’s dug and my anger about being dragged into it, she wouldn’t complain.” I throw my head back, staring at the ceiling with a heavy sigh. “But typical Audrey, she’s bitching about wanting to come home.”

“That girl was fearless. I never saw anyone stand up to Jimmy the way she did.”

“She was probably high. Paul eluded she stayed that way quite a lot.” I internally cringe at the memory of that night.

“Thanks to him!” she snickers sardonically.