“Break a leg kid.” One of the older dancers called out to me and I gave her a wave as I left the communal dressing room and ‘Chloe’ behind to assume the role of my alter ego tonight.
The bass of the music that vibrating from the floor and up through my body, along with the sound of the audience’s chattering laughter made my stomach clench with nerves. So I took a deep breath, reminded myself I was dancing for me, no one else and the butterflies flew away replaced by adrenaline and the determination to get this done and do it well, then get home.
I strutted confidently onto the stage to a howl of cat calls, wolf whistles and shouts as I focused my eyes on the bright spot light ahead of me and stood in front of the pole, my legs slightly apart and my eyes hooded with faked desire. Red lighting was piped around the edge of the stage adding to the whole black and red theme I had going on. I prowled seductively around the pole. In my head I was in control of every man and woman in this room. Then with a wink and a sway of my hips I held onto the pole to do my first twirl. I bent down in time to the beat and let the pole skim along the crack of my ass which sent the left side of the club into a frenzy and the right side calling out to see more. Some random guy reached forward to try and grab my leg but I smirked down at him and shook my finger to indicate no touching, before squatting down in front of him with my legs open and running my long red nails suggestively along the inside of my thighs as if to say ‘look what I got, but you can’t get at it.’ His friends next to him groaned and he fell back in his chair moaning and grabbed his crotch shouting, “You can slide up and down my pole anytime gorgeous.” Dream on.
I spun some more on the pole rhythmically bumping and grinding seductively to the music then reached up and pulled my hair out of the bun shaking the chocolate curls loose and sending the room crazy. I was just about to showcase some of the more acrobatic pole dancing moves the girls had taught me when I heard a commotion coming from the left side of the stage. I didn’t look down, intent on keeping my focus on that magic spot light and staying professional but I could have sworn I heard someone say Chloe. That was strange because I never danced under my real name, I had followed suit with the rest of the dancers here and had been given a stage name beginning with the letter k. I was Kiki the Kitty Kat, not my choice but then if I had my choice I wouldn’t be spending my nights anywhere near a dive of a club like this. Front of house we only ever used our kitty kat code names, it helped keep the more creepy clients from trying to invade our real lives.
I turned to face away from the bustle unfurling behind me and yelped as an oversized men’s suit jacket was suddenly thrown over my shoulders. Startled I turned around but I couldn’t see who had covered me up because I was immediately disorientated from being thrown over a muscly shoulder. What the hell was going on? I screamed for this guy to put me down and banged on his back but didn’t get the response I expected.
“Shut the fuck up Chloe, I don’t know what you think you’re doing but you don’t belong here.”
How did he know my name and why on earth were the security guys just standing around watching and not coming to help me out? I was being kidnapped and they didn’t seem to give two shits. The crowd booed and heckled angrily as some other ‘suit’ held the door open for my kidnapper and before I knew it my exposed ass met the biting cold night air as he marched us towards the car park.
“Let me go, put me down you asshole.” I wriggled in his hold trying to kick my legs free, but he was too strong for me.
“Calm down Chloe I’m not gonna hurt you okay.” He sighed.
“How the hell do you know my name?” I snapped ready to use every ounce of power in my five foot four frame to kick the shit out of him and make a run for it.
He threw me into the back seat of what looked like a range rover, held both of his tree trunk arms either side of the car opening to fence me in and stepped back slightly so I could see his face.
“Don’t you recognise me Chloe? It’s me Freddie.”
My mouth dropped open and I stared at him for what must have been a long time because he reached up and shut my mouth for me. Federico ‘Freddie’ Marquez. He hadn’t changed a bit, not really. He still had a round friendly face, but he wasn’t over weight anymore he was muscly and strong. The white shirt he was wearing stretched tight over his broad shoulders and he had tattoos on his arms and just under the collar of his shirt which hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen him.
“Freddie? What the fuck are you doing here? And why have you kidnapped me?” I said, still scanning the car park behind him for an escape route.
He seemed disappointed I wasn’t throwing my arms around him in gratitude or hugging him like some long lost relative. I hadn’t forgotten how he left me all
those years ago though, I never forgot what that hurt felt like even to this day.
“I’m saving you Chloe.”
I thought I detected remorse in his eyes but I couldn’t tell for sure.
“Chloe you can’t work there not for that guy. Do you have any idea who your boss is?”
I was just about to argue that of course I knew my boss and I had every right to work where I damn well pleased I was an adult now, but some thug from the driver’s seat piped up.
“Enough with the reunion Fred we need to get out of here before shit goes off.”
Freddie nodded and pushed me across the leather seat then climbed in next to me and we sped off as he locked the door beside him.
“Where are you taking me? They aren’t gonna like you taking me from the club you know, plus my roommate Teresa will be calling the cops if I’m not home in the morning.” I said glancing sideways at Freddie as he bit his nails and fidgeted beside me. I couldn’t help myself from pulling his arm down to stop him, old habits die hard I guess.
“I still bite them when I’m nervous.” He shrugged.
“Why are you nervous? And why didn’t the security at the club stop you taking me and beat your ass?” I was getting pissed off with the lack of information coming from him right now.
He turned to me and glared, “Because I’m Luca Marquez’s brother and that fucking means something where those guys come from.”
At that precise moment a mobile phone rang and the driver answered by saying “You’re on speaker phone…”
“What the fuck did you do Freddie?” A familiar voice, only deeper and more gravelly than I remembered roared through the car stereo system.
“My phone is ringing off the hook God damn it. I have enough shit going on without you adding Sanchez to the list little bro.”
Sanchez; that was the name of my boss. Eduardo Sanchez or Ed as most of the girls called him. The men called him Mr Sanchez out of respect but he liked the girls to call him Ed, well the ones he’d probably fucked. I had only met him once and he scared the hell out of me. I didn’t call him anything expect scary boss man when I was talking about him in the dressing room, which wasn’t often believe me.