by R. L. Wilson
I stalk closer to the stage to get a better view, with Brayden walking on my heels, trying to get a peek. His hormones are out of control.
Toni steps onto the stage. She looks completely different without the cap and thick coat. She has a nice, slim shape. But she shakes with anxiety. I hope she doesn’t fall flat on her beautiful face.
Chapter Five
Willow
Did she call my name? No, I can’t be the first dancer. I’m prepared to take this club by storm.
I took off the cap and fixed my hair, then applied some makeup and long, false eyelashes. I have this stripper look down. I’m winning this contest. Shivering with fear internally, I stare at the alcoholic beverage. Grabbing my drink, I hold my breath and take a small gulp. I grimace as the brown liquor slithers down my throat. I’m accustomed to heat, externally. Coughing, I try catching my breath. Then the female voice sounds again.
“Toni the Stallion.” It’s not in my head. She said my name. My stripper name.
I slip my glass of brown liquor onto the table. Time to get this five hundred dollars. My palms are sweaty, feet unsteady. But I force my way to the stage. Whistles wail in the background. I feel as if I’m being thrown into a pit filled with snakes. The crowd is loud and feisty. What if they boo me? I can’t think about that now. It’s do or die.
I get to the stage and turn my back to the crowd. The alcohol is giving me courage I’ve never had. I shoot a stare over to the DJ and give him a nod. The lights dim except colorful spotlights shining on me only.
I had changed into a designer bra and panties Madam Madonna gave me. But I refused to wear only panties to walk around in, so she allowed me to wear a tiny skirt. I hid my bruises the best I could. Hopefully, they’re invisible in the darkness.
The music sounds, and I tremble with nerves. But I flip around to the crowd as if I have plenty of confidence. You would never know I’m a battered woman with low self-esteem. I sashay toward the crowd in my stiletto heels like a runway model, and the crowd gets louder. That boosts my ego.
I dance to the beat, as I swing and throw my ass back. Every few seconds I see money thrown onto the stage. I guess I’m doing a good job.
I’ve never swung from a pole, but I’m feeling sexy tonight. After I toss my skirt up, exposing my ass cheeks, I strut over to the pole. The crowd cheers me on. I grab a hold and walk in a circle around the pole. I grit my teeth and gather my strength, then I climb to the top, holding on tight. This pole is more difficult than it appears. I swing around a few times, then slide down the pole. Cheers and applause roar from the crowd.
A tsunami of money floods the stage. Some even comes from the upper floors. Once I get off the pole, I feel an icy breeze causing my nipples to become hard. Now I know why the crowd is going crazy: my bra has fallen off.
The music stops, and I dance off the stage, continuing to the dressing room. Whew. That was the longest five minutes of my life. Sweat races down my back and my calf muscles throb.
I win the five hundred dollars and the job. Now to find a hotel room. I take an Uber to the nearest motel, only a ten-minute drive from the club. My new job. It terrifies me to dance, but Madam Madonna says that I will get accustomed to it.
One dancer at the club referred me to Shamrock motel. She said that for a small fee they didn’t care if you had Identification or not.
I enter the lobby of the fleabag motel, suitcase in hand. Everything in the lobby is antique. Likely built in the 1900s. No one is at the counter. It’s close to 4:00 am. The pungency of day-old meat lingers in the air. I slap the bell for service before resting my arm on the counter. I don’t really want to stay here, but what other choice do I have?
An older guy comes to the window. It looks like he was sleeping. He lets out a yawn, then rubs his eyes. “Can I help you?” he grunts and scratches his silver scruffy beard. He’s all human; I don’t catch an aura of magic.
“Yes, I need a room.”
“It’s seventy-nine dollars a night. Check out is at 11:00.” He grabs a sheet of paper and a pen. He tells me that I need an ID and a credit card.
“I don’t have either.”
He takes a better look at me. “Okay, your fee is one-hundred and nine dollars a night, four hundred-fifty dollars for a week.”
I dig into my bra and grab some money, mostly one-dollar bills that I collected from the stage. I count out 450. He gives me a nasty glare. But his money-hungry ass doesn’t turn it down.
I pay for the week and grab the key. Then I scurry to room 112 and open the door to an icebox. No one had turned on the heat.
Really, it doesn’t matter. I’m excited to be alone for the first time, sleeping in a safe bed and not with the enemy. I’m not on edge, hoping he doesn’t drag me by my hair in the middle of the night.
I set the suitcase on the floor, then riffle through my pockets for my iPhone. I surf through some of my old photos. There is a picture of my one friend back home, Sheena. I really want to contact her, but it’s too risky.
I go to her page on Facebook. There’s a post from a few hours ago that there was a massive fire at her friend’s house. And she hopes I didn’t die in the fire.
Maybe everyone will think I died in the fire. Any traces of Willow will vanish. A new woman has emerged from the ashes. One who is strong, sassy, and fearless.
That’s a dream. Tears come to my eyes as I reminisce about all the beatings I’ve endured. Thomas will get revenge. I learned as a child that you must pay for your sins. I’m willing to pay. I just hope my payment isn’t a blood payment.
It’s hard for me to believe I’m finally free. Freedom tastes so good. The alcohol made me emotional. Tomorrow is my first day at work. It’s the first job I’ve ever had. I’m proud of myself, even if my position is an exotic dancer.
I wipe the tears from my eyes and cradle the picture I had packed away of momma. One day I’ll see her again.
All the female demons are in a rush to escape hell. Life is tough there and food scarce. My entire family was happy when someone from earth chose me to marry, that I got to live on earth amongst the humans.
But living with Thomas was much more severe than actual hell.
Now I’m free from it all. I’ll do anything to keep it that way. Even kill, if I have to.
Chapter Six
Colton
She sure surprised me. I had no idea that she had all that ass under those baggy clothes. I try to stay calm while admiring her curves. Her slim waist accentuates her hips. She moves around the stage as if she owns it as the spotlight shines upon her. Her alter ego took over the stage. She has me mesmerized. The entire world stops momentarily. It was as if she danced for only me. My eyes are trained on her thick thighs and her lovely brown skin. Damn. Toni the Stallion definitely fit her.
“Close your mouth, brother,” Brayden says after a gaggle of giggles.
I’m aware of his presence. But I can’t take my eyes off her. She turned on her sexiness like a light switch. She was not nearly as confident when she walked into Omen.
“Shut up,” I respond, still staring at the Stallion.
“Besides, there’s no point in you staring at any supernatural who isn’t a dragon. Anyway, she’s a stripper. No one dates them,” Brayden mutters.
“I’m not getting involved with anyone. I’m just surprised she had those huge melons underneath her shirt.”
“I’ve seen that twinkle in your eyes before.” He laughs, hitting me on the shoulder. “You want to witness the Stallion ride.”
I ignore Brayden, but he is right. Refusing to admit it, I smile. Sure, I would love to take the Stallion for a test ride.
The sound of a car door slamming awakens me. I turn over in bed, still too tired to open my eyes. The thickness of magic in the atmosphere suffocates my room.
I wonder what this is all about. Forcing my eyes open, I stay quiet, hearing mumbles of chatter. It’s not only my mother and her husband. There are several other voices, some male, some female. My par
ents only have company this early during a tragedy. A death, or something else equally urgent.
I hurry to my feet and stagger toward the window. The afternoon sun is bright. The morning is gone. I count the cars parked in the driveway. They’re all the most expensive cars known to humanity. Along the street in front of our compound, I spot one in particular: a red Bentley, custom-made. It belongs to Eugene, the Helios’ eldest leader. My mouth becomes as dry as cotton. Something terrible has happened.
All the leaders of the Helios Coven are present. I walk over to my dresser, grabbing my I-phone. I note that it’s 1:00 pm. I overslept. I’m usually an early riser, but I was at the club late.
The twist of my door knob brings a panic. The rapid pounding of my heart intensifies as I await someone to enter the room. I see Myles. He rarely knocks.
“Hey, what’s going on? Did someone die?” he questions as I walk toward the adjoined bathroom.
“I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s bad.” I grab a towel and run piping hot water.
“These pop-up meetings make me nervous,” Myles says.
“Where’s Brayden?” I question as I brush my teeth.
“He spent the night at Nick’s house,” he says.
The dreaded sound of Mother’s voice splits the air.” Colton!” she yells. “Come down stairs.”
My eyes bulge in misery and an electric sensation pulses through my veins. I shoot a sharp glare to Myles. A surprised glare is stuck to his face. He straightens his pajama shirt and stalks toward the door.
I pat my face dry and grab a t-shirt from my dresser.
Myles stands by the door, trying to catch the conversation going on downstairs. It’s no use; they are all talking at once. “What did you do?” he whispers.
I shrug then slip on my house shoes and put on a brave face. Inside, I’m scared shitless. “Are you going downstairs with me?” I ask Myles.
“Hell no. I’ll watch from here,” he barks.
I slap him across the head then trot toward the stairs. How bad could it be? I hadn’t murdered anybody. Hopefully no one is dead. Although I’m a grown man, I feel like I’m going to be chastised by my parents. Here goes nothing. I take a hard swallow and creep down the stairs. I get to the dining room to see my mother, Lucinda, her face blank, expressionless. All that sparkles on her face is the dark red lipstick.
Aunt Michelle and Uncle Charles are present. Both are my father’s siblings. Also present are Eugene, and his wife Priscilla. George. Frank and Theodore. The leaders of the Helios Coven.
At the first sight of the leaders, I immediately begin to perspire. My armpits are drenched in sweat. Frozen, I stand there. No one greets me with a warm embrace. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. I say nothing.
“Have a seat, lad,” Eugene says, breaking the silence. He is the eldest of the clan. I can count the number of times I’ve seen him. He has a shiny bald head, with only a few strings of gray left. No one knows his exact age.
I take a seat, which feels like the electric chair.
“Let’s not beat around the bush,” Frank says, his eyes stuck on my face as his bushy eyebrows furrow. “You have made trouble with the Red coven.”
I give him a stare of disbelief. “Me? How?”
“Does the name Jake ring a bell?” Eugene questions. He folds his hands as the diamond dragon on his ring flitters.
My lungs stiffen. Shit, I thought I escaped that dreadful night. That damn snitch. “Yeah, I know Jake,” I confess. There’s no point in lying. I’m busted.
“The problem is, he’s a dragon. Having a relationship with his wife is a form of treason,” Frank says.
“Which puts this coven in jeopardy,” Eugene barks.
I glance over at my mother. Her red face brings pain to my chest. I’ve always wanted to make her proud. To know I caused her embarrassment is a dagger to my soul.
“I apologize for my wrongdoings,” I say, scratching my arms because I’m nervous. “I wasn’t thinking clearly,” I confess.
Frank huffs and puffs.
Aunt Michelle cuts him off. “Enough!” she yells. “My nephew has apologized. There’s no need to scorn him.”
I love Aunt Michelle. She doesn’t take any shit. Since my father died, she’s been around more. She’s like a second mother.
“I have decided you will marry Ashleigh Weathers of the Tolena Coven.” Eugene says.
I ponder the name Ashleigh. No face registers. I don’t care who she is. I don’t seem to have a choice. Especially since I have fucked up.
I just hope she has a pretty face and a smoking hot body. My friend Barry had an arranged marriage and his wife is hard on the eyes. Plus, he says the sex is a snooze fest.
“I have not set a date. Consider yourself engaged,” Eugene warns.
I look to Mother for direction. Her lips are locked. Nothing she can say can change his mind, anyway. I guess I have a mail order bride.
I’ll ask Myles who Ashleigh is. He knows all the young female dragons. But I’m not sure I’m ready to be with one woman. I’m still young.
Chapter Seven
Willow
It’s the first day of my new life. I take in a heady breath, then exhale. There’s no rush to prepare breakfast and coffee for a worthless man. I’ll prepare coffee for myself.
It’s my first day of work. I’ve never had a job. But I never thought I would be a dancer. If what I do is even considered dancing. I don’t care what it is as long as they pay me. Anything is better than being with Thomas.
I stare at the mirror on the ceiling. The fading bruises that cover my face are a constant reminder. Flashbacks dance in my head. His fist pounding into my face repeatedly. The stench of alcohol that engulfed the apartment. I can nearly taste it. The blood splatter against the tile in the bathroom. I could never quite clean the grout.
Silently, I vow to never continue in an abusive relationship. At the first sign of abuse, I’m getting out.
I grab my clothes for my performance tonight. They’re as small as dental floss. I place the clothes in a backpack along with a ton of makeup and stiletto heels. Luckily, I have some heels. Sheena had given me a pair, and they are the perfect stripper shoes: a long, pointy heel, clear, with shiny silver beads along the heel.
With the money I made last night, I can buy shoes and more bikinis tomorrow.
I arrive at Omen an hour early. I head to Madam’s office to get a locker and fill out forms.
The club looks different this early. There’s no line. It’s not crowded. Security is always present, though.
“Thank you,” I say to my Uber driver. I scurry out of the sedan and throw my backpack on my shoulder. I stand in front of the building and a faint grin forms on my lips. This building is massive and beautiful. You can’t help but grin looking at the unique architecture.
I get to the entrance. The same guard from yesterday is present. His arms are folded. They are easily the size of my thighs. The difference this time is that he doesn’t ask for identification. He simply says hello, and I enter the building with no problem.
Maybe I’m on the VIP list. If I could just get upstairs. I’ve heard the other dancers say it’s off limits. You must be a multimillionaire to ascend the stairs. I’m curious to know what it looks like up there. The first floor is immaculate. Upstairs must be a piece of heaven.
I strut pass the bar to the back. The music is pulsing, a hard bass sound. It’s crowded, but nowhere near as crowded as last night.
I enter the locker room and freeze. There are a dozen females or more. Some are half naked. Everyone is preparing for the stage. They’re looking in the mirror, fixing their hair and plastering on brightly colored makeup.
I stand in front of the door. The females walk past me like I’m a piece of furniture. No one asks to help me. If I didn’t need the money, I would probably leave. They give me dirty stares. Maybe it’s hazing because I’m the new girl. Or they’re jealous of competition.
Finally, Madam Madonna comes
over, wearing her white catsuit and draped in jewelry. She has long red hair, as red as the lipstick she wears. If I had to guess, I would put her in her forties. But since she has money, she is probably fifty with an excellent plastic surgeon.
“Hello, new girl. The Stallion, right?” she says.
“Yep, that’s me.”
“Come, dear.” She waves her hand. “Ally, come meet your new mentee.” A tall lady struts over. She glides across the floor like a goddess floating. She is gorgeous, with the cheekbones of a model. Her hair is in a long blonde ponytail that nearly reaches her ass. She has on a red leather skirt and boots that come above her knees. If she dances as good as she walks, I’m not dancing after her.
“Allison here will be your mentor, dear. She will show you all the tricks of the trade.”
Allison nods at me. I guess that’s her way of saying hello.
“First, you must sign some forms. Follow me to my office,” Madam Madonna says.
Allison walks off. But I’m a little afraid. She never cracked a smile. I bet she’s a witch. She has that sass that witches have. And that gruesome, no-nonsense glare. She doesn’t take any shit. Well, neither do I. I want to dance and make money, that’s all.
I follow behind Madam to her office. Hidden in the corner is a vast office. It’s pleasant and a lot cooler than the locker room. The musky scent is absent. The office smells like Madam, a foreign perfume.
“Fill these out.” She hands me a stack of papers. “And I’ll need your ID.”
Damn, that ID keeps coming up. I need to get a fake one and quick. I slip my hand into my pocket, then search my purse, pretending to look. “I’m sorry. I don’t have it today.”
She has a good poker face. I can’t tell if it’s okay.
