I picked stripping because I had a decent body, I could move, I knew it’d make me loads of cash, especially if I danced at a class establishment like Smithie’s, and I had a high school education and a dream, and I needed the seed money to start it.
It was just dumb luck, some of the little of it I’d ever had, I landed in a joint like Smithie’s where our insurance was better than a government worker’s, he had a 401(k) plan and the infinite, albeit frustrated, patience to put up with a staff that consisted almost entirely of attractive people who were in their twenties.
“Hey,” I called when he looked up from his desk.
His eyes narrowed.
And there was the sharp astuteness.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said quickly, coming around one of the chairs in front of his desk and sitting down.
He sat back and stared at me.
“Life’s a little rocky lately,” I came clean (kinda). “Family stuff with my brother and his ex and their kids. It’ll be okay.”
He looked to Dorian, who had taken a seat beside me. His mouth got tight at what Dorian silently conveyed. He again looked to me, then, wisely, he let it go (I knew, only for now).
“I got a proposition for you I want you to take away and chew on,” he declared.
“All right,” I said.
“I wanna move the club to a revue.”
I had no idea what that meant.
“Sorry?” I asked.
“You, Hattie, Pepper, Dominique and maybe Champagne, along with Lottie, will have the stage for your own dances. Your music. Your choreography. You can take it all off. You can keep something on. I don’t give a shit. As long as it’s sexy, entertaining, and keeps me havin’ a velvet rope outside my door.”
I found myself breathing funny.
“I’ll hire other girls who’ll do routines together in between you girls doin’ your thing,” he went on. “Burlesque style. Filler will be general stripping, though the headliners won’t be onstage during this time, so patrons have plenty of breathers in the program to buy drinks and regulars still think they’re comin’ to a titty bar. And maybe I’ll throw in a comedian to MC.”
Holy shit.
This was so cool.
“Like Lottie, tips will be collected for you,” he continued. “I’ll be uppin’ the cover charge, so I’ll also pay you more as a base salary since you’ll have to come up with your own routines and wardrobe. But to get you started on that last, I’ll give you a stipend. Only thing you gotta do for the stipend is sign a contract that says you won’t quit for six months. You don’t do that, and you want your time onstage, you gotta provide your own shit. You don’t want your time onstage, you can dance in the burlesque. You don’t want a part of any of this, and I go this way, we’re gonna have to have another chat. You can serve tables, and waitresses don’t make dancer money, but they don’t do bad. Or you can tend bar.”
With this offer on the table, I wasn’t tending bar.
“I’m interested,” I said in a voice shimmering with excitement, my mind reeling with ideas, music choices, costumes.
He nodded, some tension I didn’t notice leaving his face.
He didn’t want to lose me, freak me or land any unwitting pressure on me to do something I didn’t want to do.
I might have failed to mention, I totally loved my boss.
“We go this way, we’re gonna invest in a few things that’ll allow you to be more creative,” he continued. “Dorian and Lottie have brought me ideas for lights and lasers, sets and props and other shit. You got anything you need, depending on the cost, I’ll consider it.”
“Can I Flashdance this mother?” I asked.
“Girl, you dump a bucket of water on you and kick around wearing a wet teddy, I’ll give you a bonus,” he answered.
Finally!
My life was looking up.
“I’m totally in,” I said.
Smithie smiled at me.
“Have you asked Pepper or Hattie?” I queried.
“Pepper, last night. She’s in. Hattie’s up when she gets here.”
“Smithie, I think this is a great idea,” I declared.
He looked to Dorian.
That message was clear.
I turned to Dorian.
“Ian, I think this is a great idea,” I told him.
He tipped up his chin, cool as shit, but I saw his dimples popping.
I smiled at him.
And made a mental note to go out the next day and find a kickass red teddy.
* * *The next morning, my phone rang, waking me up.
I saw my alarm said eleven o’clock.
That meant a solid seven hours of sleep.
Things were looking up.
I peered at the screen of my phone.
It said MOM.
Okay, that could mean things were going back down, if Brian and/or Angelica got hold of her.
Or it could just mean she wanted to have Saturday lunch with her daughter.
I reached out, grabbed my phone and took the call.