Saving Dallas Forever (Saving Dallas 3)

“Oooh ooh!” Red said, jumping up and down in her seat to get all of our attention. “Dallas you’re up in fifteen. Let’s go get you ready.” I paled at her comment, looking around to see everyone grinning at me. “Come on!” Red urged. I laughed in her face as I shook my head and sat back.

“Red I ain’t gonna do that shit,” I said, watching Mary laugh hard at my response, her small body falling over in Chi Chi’s lap. She was piss drunk, but, hell, which one of us wasn’t.

“Dallas!” Red whined, her attempt to pout only making me laugh harder.

“Hell no. I can’t do that,” I said, gesturing with my hand to the poles on the stage.

“You don’t have to use the pole, just dance.” There was no way I was getting up there. I shook my head, draining my glass and lifting it in the air, as I swayed without intending to, and hiccupped.

“You pussy. I should have known you would be too scared,” Red said, daring me to prove her wrong.

“I’m not a pussy, Re-ed,” I said, rolling my head and sucking my teeth, while I snapped my fingers in her face with my free hand. I slammed down my glass and stood, wobbling slightly, but was assisted when a strong hand grabbed my arm to steady me. I turned to see Chris standing there, his eyes laughing, although he didn’t utter a word. Had he been there the whole time? “What do you think Chris?” I asked, turning on my heels and facing him. “Do you think I’m a pussy?” he fought to contain his laugh, but there was no chance of him hiding his smile.

“I’m just here,” he offered, taking the easy way out. But I wouldn’t let him.

“Come on, Chris,” I said, playfully punching his arm and nearly falling on my face as I did. “What ya think?”

“I think you’re drunk,” he said, his arms clasped in front of him. He leaned in as if to tell me a secret, but everyone at the table heard what he said. “And a pussy.”

“Red, I don’t think I can do this,” I said, my stage-fright so bad that I thought I might vomit. We were backstage, and I was dressed in a ridiculous plastic outfit with a teeny, nude bikini underneath. The idea was for me to strip down to the bikini and give the appearance that I was naked, but my privates would be covered. Or at least that was the plan. “I don’t know why I let you talk me into this,” I said, taking deep breaths trying to remain calm.

“I didn’t. I believe it was you who dragged me back here. And for what? To prove to a PROSPECT that you weren’t a pussy? You’re pathetic. And very hot in that nurses’ outfit. Here, drink this.” She shoved a glass in my hand, and clinked it with hers. I downed the shot, which was so strong it nearly took my breath away.

“What the fuck is that?” I asked, wiping the remnants from my lips.

“That is liquid encouragement. Here, take one more.” I looked at her as if she was crazy. “Oh stop, you’ve had fifteen fruity shots that can hardly be considered hard liquor, and five mixed drinks. If you were really drunk, you wouldn’t be freaking out right now. Take the shot.” She pushed it into my hand and I downed it, knowing that I would probably need ten more just to get through the next ninety seconds.

“Arrgghh!” I said through my teeth, as the liquor scorched my throat and burned the inside of my stomach.

“Okay, you’re up. Just work the pole in front of our table. Remember, it’s your birthday, have fun!” Red blew me a kiss and I caught it, slapping it against my ass cheek, as I peeked through the curtains at the audience. The alcohol was already taking effect as I felt my body loosen and my mind relax. When the announcer called my name, I stepped through the curtain and hit the stage, full of confidence. My girls stood front and center with fistfuls of one-dollar bills, screaming my name while Chris stood behind them, looking very pleased with himself. Asshole. When Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” filled the room, I transformed from the nervous girl who had stood backstage to the baddest bitch in the room, or so I thought. I got lost in the moment, as I used the pole to grind against, forgetting to strip through the first half of the song, until I looked to my sisters to see them making motions that signaled I should rip my shirt off. I grabbed the center of my shirt, which was held together by Velcro instead of buttons, and positioned my fingers to pull it apart in an attempt to look very sexy, during the climax of the song. But the damned thing was stronger than I thought. My dance went to shit after that, and when the song ended, there was not a one-dollar bill on the stage. Even my sisters refused to tip me. I walked backstage fully clothed, and had to have Red help me with my pathetic outfit.