She finally closes her mouth and nods. “Okay.”
We all make our way to the center, waiting for the curtain to drop. It’s different now. Standing here with all of them. With Perse, Kenan, and Callan. Callan who is still not talking to me.
The curtain opens and Tinashe’s “Throw a Fit” starts playing as we move into our positions. Where the entrance and exit is, I notice all four of The Brothers standing, watching. King leans into Killian, whose eyes have not strayed from mine.
It’s intense. I miss a step, my cheeks flaring to life. I continue through the movements of the song. Slowly, lifting my shirt over my head and flicking it out to the stands. Now I’m in my bra and little shorts. When the song remixes into “Just a Dream” by Nelly, I let loose, rolling against the beat with a smile on my face. With every soft tune, I rub myself against the notes, with a hair flick every now and then. Kenan picks me up from the waist and my legs wrap around him as I slowly lean backward until my hands are placed on the floor. Kenan slowly sinks down, his face right near my crotch. He bites down on my inner thigh and I chuckle with laughter, kicking off him until I’m back on the ground. The song moves even slower into “I Wanna Fuck You” by Akon and Uncle Snoop. We ride the song out with me sticking next to Kenan. This choreography is all about how bad a man wants a woman but can’t have her, so anytime Kenan tries to grab at me, I swat his hand away and taunt him with the weapon all women have—their existence.
We all have one thing in common—we’re born with power, but the world doesn’t like a confident woman, so they try to crush them with tabloids of what “perfection” should look like. It’s all a hoax to deceive us into thinking we’re lesser of a woman if we don’t look or act a certain way. We, as a sisterhood, must rise above that and harness the power our ancestors fought so hard for and destroy the patriarchy. This won’t happen quickly. In order for this to happen, we have to stop slut shaming, skinny shaming, fat shaming, fit shaming, or any shaming. There is no shame in what someone looks like, period—what is truly shameful is how easy it is for some of us to attack the other all because it’s not something we would wear or how we would talk. Individuality is a gift. I love this dance and routine. It has nurtured my need for recklessness in the form of female dominance.
As the song ends, the audience stands and claps, and the cage slowly drops from the ceiling. I bend my head backward to watch as it falls around us. The pastel lilac and vivid white that’s on the ceiling of the tent begins spinning into a spiral.
I gulp.
I’m always nervous about this part. It takes a bit for me to get into it, but as soon as the cage is on the ground, the music shifts and the lights flick to red. This is the part that the audience is the most silent. Shrouding themselves in the erotic atmosphere that we provide. The vibe always shifts when the cage begins descending, even though every act is sexual one way or another.
“Say Yeah” by Nikye Heaton fades in loudly, everyone liquefying into the cage. I find a spot in the corner, where I usually am, dancing against whoever is there. Usually, I stick by Kenan and his shenanigans, knowing that he won’t press me, but I already feel that tonight is going to be different. I can feel the tension floating between Killian and I and I’ve come to learn that Killian isn’t someone who just lets things be. He likes to antagonize any situation he can and right now, that situation is me.
I’m making my way for the corner where Kenan is when fingers hook into mine. The music is thumping so loudly it feels as though the vibrations are sending tremors through my bones.
Fingers flex with mine. I pause. I don’t have to turn around to know that it’s Killian. His thumb presses against the palm of my hand before he’s tugging me into his chest.
His hard chest that smells of every bad thing that we were told to stay away from. He’s potent, a delicacy that you can’t afford to indulge in. He’s top shelf alcohol that if taken in large doses, you could die from.
Neither of us say a word, and I know what this is. I know the rules. Whatever happens in the cage, stays in the cage. It’s like Fight Club. Even when you’re coupled with someone, you still have to partake in the cage. King and Dove tried to get out of it, but it didn’t work. Now they stick to each other and have mastered how to conceal as much as possible.