Sandy

Dancing was a job. Some looked at it as more; a stepping stone or gateway to being an actress. I knew better. The club was a place for the dreamers to gather. The dancers who dreamt of something better than what they had at home, and the patrons who dreamt of the same.

I looked at dancing differently than most people, and while doing so, compared myself to an actress. When I was on stage, I was playing a part. The people who came to watch me were no different than those who flocked to see the latest installment of the Fifty Shades movies.

I opened the car door, got one foot out the door, and doubled over in pain. Drowning my sorrows in an all-you-can-eat Thai buffet wasn’t a terrible idea, but the hole in the wall I chose to do it at wasn’t one of the best decisions I’d ever made. When the pain diminished, I stepped out of the car and ran toward the back door.

I knocked on the door three times, paused, and then knocked once.

Craig pulled the door open, saw me, and smiled. “Out of breath, as always.”

I pressed my hands to my knees, gulped a breath, and grinned. “Hey.”

“How’s it going?”

I wedged myself between his massive thigh and the door frame. “Not good. I ate Thai food at Thai-cos last night.”

He stepped to the side and wrinkled his nose. “The place that sells tacos on one side and Chinese food on the other?”

“It’s Thai, not Chinese. Thai-cos, get it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t partake.”

“It won’t happen again. I’ve been sick all day.”

Craig was one of the bouncers, and was also a close friend. He was tall, muscular, and looked like a professional wrestler. His head was shaved, he wore a neatly-trimmed goatee, and his skin was as smooth as glass. As with all the bouncers, he was gay, which was one of the owner’s prerequisites for male employees at the bar.

According to the owner, it eliminated the drama between the dancers and the male staff members. The owners only other rule, no boyfriends allowed in the club, was strictly enforced. This left the club drama reduced to the arguments with the dancers.

But it was enough drama to satisfy even the most dramatic of the drama queens.

“Starla didn’t make it,” Craig said. “And Neveah’s still sick. So, we’re short staffed tonight. Might need you to stay ‘till close.”

I’d been exhausted for the last few days, more than likely the result of slight depression. Nothing would help me get my mind off Smoke more than working until I was exhausted even more.

“That’s fine,” I said. “I can use the money.”

He glanced at his watch. “I rotate to the stage in a few, so I’ll be on the floor when you’re up.”

I shouldered my bag and peered toward the dressing room. “Good. I’ll see you in a few.”

If there was a drama free zone in a strip club, the dressing room wasn’t it. Boyfriend problems, girlfriend problems, baby daddy problems, missing tip money, babysitter problems, and lap dances gone bad were some of the typical concerns. The discussions were never simple, and always seemed to either turn into an argument or a fight.

After three years, it was getting old.

Sitting at the vanity preparing for her shift, Nikki glanced over her right shoulder. “Hey, Texxxas.”

I smiled. “Hey.”

Diamond turned to face me and widened her eyes comically. “Guess what George did? After you left last night?”

I tossed my bag on the vanity. “Uhhm. I don’t know, what?”

She cocked her hip, shot Nikki a shitty glare, and then looked at me. “Tipped me $500, and then asked me out.”

“Any guy will ask you out if you jack him off in a booth,” Nikki said without turning around.

Nikki was one to talk, she gave her regulars blowjobs when she could get away with it. I looked at her and then at Diamond’s reflection in the mirror. “Are you going to go out with him?”

“Yeah.” She gave Nikki another glare, and then looked at me. “Do you know what he drives?”

I had no idea, and I really didn’t care. I did my best to feign interest and shrugged. “Uhhm. No. What?”

“Mercedes.”

“A twenty-year-old Mercedes,” Nikki chimed.

“She’s jealous,” Diamond said. “Can you tell?”

Nikki spun around. “I doubt he tipped you more than $10. From what I hear, your hand jobs suck. And, jealous of what?”

“Jealous of the $500 tip, and because he asked me out. What do you get? $20 for a blowy, right?”

Nikki turned around. A strip of eyelashes dangled from the tip of her finger. “No, I get a grand, a ride in a new Mercedes, and a lobster dinner.”

Diamond picked up her sweats, waved her free hand toward Nikki, and rolled her eyes. “Jealous bitch.”

“A fifty-year-old surfer let you give him a handy, and then asked you out while you were wiping the cum off his disgusting gut. What is there to be jealous of?”

“He’s not fifty. And he owns a construction company.”

Nikki leaned forward, pressed the eyelashes in place, and then fanned her face with her hands. “He’s probably a janitor, and he looks fifty.”

Diamond cocked her hip. “He’s not fifty. He’s got a teenage dick, and a Mercedes.”

“Give it a rest, Theresa.”

“Don’t call me that,” Diamond hissed.

Nikki picked up another strip of eyelashes and then glanced over her shoulder. “It’s your name.”

“We’re not supposed to use our names, and you know it. Mark will have your ass, you spiteful bitch.”

My stomach knotted, and I bent over in response.

“Are you okay, Tex?” Nikki asked.

After a few seconds, the pain went away. I looked at her and shook my head. “Bad Thai food.”

“Nothing’s worse,” she said. “Where?”

“Thai-cos.”

“Oh my God. Why?”

“All you can eat. I was in a mood.”

“A mood for food poisoning.” She nodded her head toward my waist. “You’ll pay for it.”

Diamond pulled on her sweats, slipped her arms through her hoodie, and then zipped it up. “I guess I’m out of here.”

“Only reason you stuck around was to brag to Texxxas,” Nikki said. “Go.”

She grabbed her purse, shot Nikki a look, and then turned toward the door. “Bye Texxxas.”

I waved. “See ya, Diamond.”

Nikki leaned forward, checked her makeup, and then looked at me. She batted her lashes a few times.

“They look good, as always,” I said.

She smiled. “You’re so sweet.”

“You always look good.” I said. It was true, she looked great, she just didn’t look her age. She was 21 years old, and looked like she was 35. A really hot 35-year-old, but 35, nonetheless.

She shook her head lightly, and then looked in the mirror. “You come in here, put on your outfit, and walk on stage. No one else here can think about doing that. We’ve got to work for it.”

“I’m just a take me or leave me kind of girl,” I said. “That’s how we are in Texas.”

I wasn’t really from Texas, but none of the girls knew it. I was from New Mexico. The daughter of an alcoholic mother who had a second job as a drug addict, and a father who decided he’d had enough of her when I was six, I left when I was thirteen and went to live with my aunt and uncle.

When I was seventeen, I graduated high school. I thanked them for their hospitality, loaded my belongings into my Volkswagen, and left. Hoping to land a job as an actress, I made my way to Southern California. Upon arriving, I realized I was no different than the other 40 million people who lived there. Disappointed, but not defeated, I got a job as a waitress, saved my money, and bought a set of boobs.

“Well, I’m from the SD,” she said. “It’s competitive in SoCal.”

I laughed at the thought of her and Diamond arguing about the $500 hand job. “It sure is.”

As I was changing, I noticed a little spotting on my panties. After cleaning up and getting my outfit on, I turned toward Nikki. “It’s the 22^nd, right?”

“21st. Why?”

I shook my head. “Just wondering.”

She looked me over. “That outfit is on point. Can’t go wrong with a school girl get up, that’s for sure.”

“We’ll see,” I said.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was dressed like Britney Spears in the Hit Me Baby One More Time Video. I cleared my head of thoughts of Smokey. Then, I prayed to see right through whoever happened to be on sniffers row.

The music stopped, and then I heard the DJ dismiss Rose.

I took a deep breath and waited.

“Here’s what you’ve been waiting all night for. Gentlemen, the one and only. Standing five foot seven, and only 114 pounds, she’s got a set of natural double D’s that are the envy of the industry. Give it up, motherfuckers. This. Is. Texxxas!”

As Buckcherry’s Crazy Bitch began to blare over the sound system, Texxxas walked out onto the stage no differently than a Victoria’s Secret model walks up the runway.

When she did, she left Sandy in the dressing room.

Where she was safe from everyone and everything that Texxxas didn’t have the common sense to fear.

The men shouted and cheered. Money rained onto the stage. And, she danced like it was the last time she’d ever have the chance.