Poll Dancer

by Laura Heffernan

  Although I’d always been extroverted, the process of constantly begging other people for approval exhausted me. I missed my studio, my routine, my old life. The ability to invite men over if I wanted, without worrying about who might see them entering or leaving.

  I missed being able to ask a man out on a date if I wanted. One man in particular. I missed being able to kiss someone new, not caring who could be watching.

  My feet pounded against the pavement. Running had never been my favorite activity, but being out like this felt amazing. I couldn’t go to the studio. My local gym was half an hour from campaign headquarters, past my house. Most days, I didn’t feel like driving out there. So, running. My frustrations melted a bit more each time my foot pounded my aggravations out against the pavement.

  Erica. Stomp. Wearing my dress. Stomp. Ruining my hair. Stomp. Knowing that I couldn’t be with Daniel. Stomp. The media, stomp, directing my life without even knowing they were doing it. Stomp.

  I ran on and on, not paying attention to street signs, just wanting to keep moving until I felt like myself again. I turned right, then left, then right, knowing that my phone’s GPS would lead me back to my car when the time came. Before I knew it, darkness fell, but I kept running in the glow of the street lamps.

  Eventually, I drew to a halt. I didn’t know the name of the street I’d turned onto, but it didn’t extend very far. Ahead of me, the road dead-ended into a gate and a sign. That’s not what caught my attention. Because standing in front of me, the streetlamp shining off of it like a beacon of hope, I spotted the most glorious thing I’d ever seen: a pole.

  Not an actual fitness pole in the middle of the street; that would be ridiculous. At the end of the street lay a playground. A playground with swing sets and slides and platforms and a fireman’s pole for children to play on. Children and fitness instructors, that is. My spirits lifted ten thousand percent. This was what I needed.

  Barely able to contain my excitement, I hop-skipped across the distance until I was close enough to put my palms against the cool metal. I wanted to lean forward and kiss it, not even caring that it must be covered with germs from thousands of people.

  After weeks away from the sport, I feared I wouldn’t remember how to do anything. Just to see, I wiped my sweaty armpit on my shirt, clamped the pole between my right arm and my side, rested my right hip on the pole, and spread my legs into a perfect vee shape. My body fell into the teddy bear pose like I’d been born doing it.

  With a tiny squeal of joy, I dropped to the ground and glanced around. No one else was in the park or the surrounding streets. Windows in the nearest houses were dark. This time of year, only masochists and hard-core fitness junkies wandered the streets after dark. No one would see me. I could manage a real workout, and Erica never needed to be any wiser.

  The rest of the world dropped away. I swung, kicked, climbed, and inverted until I was dripping with sweat and panting. After several moves in a row left me breathing hard, I hooked my right leg and laid back to catch my breath, wiping strands of hair off my forehead. All the blood rushed to my head; it felt glorious.

  When I hung from a pole, I was invincible.

  I would win the election. The temporary injunction would expire, and Helen would be allowed to run her studio again. I’d be in a position to help other women whose businesses were threatened. Daniel and I would finally get a chance to have an honest talk about our feelings. Nothing could stop me now.

  CHAPTER 18

  Basic Drop: Do NOT attempt this move without a crash mat. Start from mid-pole until you’ve got the mechanics down, then move higher. To drop, do a basic climb, then move into a pole sit. Move your upper body around the pole like in a crucifix. With hands off the pole, open your legs.

  - Push and Pole Fitness Tutorials, Vol. 3

  Sirens blared, jolting me out of a sound sleep. Fire! I leaped to my feet, scrambling to find something to cover myself with. No time to get dressed. Any cover would do. I needed to get out.

  Grabbing a pair of panties off the floor, I shoved one leg in. My foot slipped on the wooden floor, sending me back against the wall. With no time to waste, I hopped on one foot, trying to get my toes unstuck from the lace without face-planting.

  The blaring stopped.

  The sudden silence made me pause. Or at least, I tried. My momentum tipped me over. I crashed to the floor in a tangled heap.

  Ten seconds later, my phone beeped. The voicemail notification. Hold on a sec.

  Cautiously, I sniffed the air. Nothing but my vanilla bath bomb from the night before, still lingering. My phone started beeping on the nightstand. Oh, geez. Erica. I’d completely forgotten that I set her ring tone to the fire alarm so I knew not to answer. She usually texted.

  Great move, Mel.

  My phone told me it was only six-thirty in the morning. My schedule for the day remained open until ten. Whatever Erica wanted, it could wait. Silencing my phone, I rolled back over. It started vibrating on the nightstand. What could she possibly want this early? Did she know what happened between me and Daniel? Well, if she did, she could yell at me later. It was way too early.

  With a groan, I turned my phone off, dragged a pillow over my head, and rolled back over. In a few seconds, I was blissfully dreaming of life on the beach with a mai tai in one hand.

  Sometime later, ringing woke me again. I grabbed my phone and chucked it at the wall, but the sound didn’t stop. Probably because it was still off. In my sleepy haze, it took me a moment to recognize the doorbell. The clock on my nightstand showed that it was now six-fifty-three. Apparently, Erica didn’t like being ignored.

  Another groan escaped me. This had to be a bad dream.

  Please God, don’t let Erica have tracked me down and come to ruin my morning.

  Things had been okay when we parted yesterday, and I didn’t think she figured out what Daniel and I were doing in his office when she showed up. If he’d told her after I took off, she would’ve called right away. Stewing in her anger for twelve hours didn’t make any sense. Unless calling to wake me up was part of my punishment.

  No. None of that made any sense. Daniel wouldn’t tell her about our personal business, especially not before we got to talk about it ourselves. But I couldn’t think of any other reason Erica would be standing on my doorstep, laying on the doorbell before the sun finished clearing the horizon. In February.

  My brain urged me to leave her out there, let her freeze. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be here unless it was important. It would be easier to call her back, or text to see what she wanted, but at this point she’d just order me to come open the door.

  Still grumbling to myself, I threw the covers back and got out of bed. I went to swipe a t-shirt off the floor to cover myself before remembering that I’d tossed everything in the dryer before going to bed the night before. Somehow, I doubted that Erica would feel like waiting patiently on the porch while I dug through my laundry for something to wear.

  Grumbling at my bad luck, I yanked the bedspread around me as I stomped across the living room, wrapping it like a sari to cover my nudity. Meaning that when I opened the door to find Erica spitting rage from her eyeballs, the half dozen reporters camping out on the front walkway got quite an eyeful.

  Oh, balls.

  My entire body sagged against the frame as I processed the scene in front of me. So many people. Cameras. Flashes. And a cacophony of words coming at me. “What are you doing here?”

  Behind her, a bald forty-something guy pushed his way to the front of the crowd and shouted at me. Jerry, from the fundraiser. Even in the early morning haze, I’d recognize the way he walked without moving his arms anywhere. I couldn’t make Erica’s words out through my confusion. Not that I wanted to speak with him at the moment, standing shivering in my doorway wrapped only in a duvet.

  “Don’t just stand there,” Erica hissed, shoving me out of the way. “Get inside! Close the door. And cover yourself. You’re naked
.”

  “I was sleeping.” I moved aside enough for her to stride past me toward the kitchen, a briefcase swinging from one hand. After closing and locking the door while hopefully not letting the reporters take any more pictures, I followed her. “I sleep naked.”

  “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “Good morning to you, too, Erica. Would you like some coffee? Is it okay if I get dressed before you start harassing me?”

  “I’m not here to harass you, you idiot. Someone saw you!”

  “That’s what happens when you pull someone out of bed before seven a.m. banging on their front door,” I said reasonably.

  “Not the reporters waiting outside! Last night. In the park.”

  Realization slowly dawned. Someone spotted me poling. But who? And how did she know about it?

  She slapped a newspaper down on the counter. There I was, plastered on the front. A gorgeous picture. Perfect form, legs split into a vee, with my toes pointed. Probably not the right focus. But it was on the tip of my tongue to ask if I could keep the image. It would make a great advertisement.

  “Where did you get this?” I asked instead. The park had been deserted. Even if anyone saw a woman playing around, how would the media know it was me? Why would they care?

  “Someone saw you. It’s all over the news. You, doing exactly what I told you not to do. Hanging from a pole in a park at night. And not just any park,” she continued, “but the only park in the area where drug dealers have reportedly been spotted.”

  “Oh, c’mon. There was no one in the park but me. Clearly, I wasn’t dealing drugs. If you looked at the pictures, you know I was just having fun.”

  “But we talked about this! You can’t have that kind of fun when you’re running for public office. Especially when it’s only weeks until the election. Did you forget everything I ever said to you? Do you want to lose?”

  That hurt. Usually, when Erica blustered, I ignored her, but the accusation that I would try to sabotage my own campaign stung. I flinched as if she’d slapped me. Then I turned and walked toward my bedroom.

  “Where are you going?” she demanded.

  “To shower,” I said. “To put some clothes on. To give you a chance to calm down. Make some coffee. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

  “Make it ten. We’ve got a lot of damage control to do.”

  I desperately wanted to talk to Daniel before Erica did, but calling him now wasn’t going to resolve anything. In my tiny condo, she would easily overhear our conversation, and Erica did not need to know the details of my private life. Besides, he was probably as angry as she was. He might’ve even been the one to tell her about the papers. After all, Daniel was the one who wanted me to change my image in the first place.

  What horrible luck. I couldn’t believe my moment of weakness blew up in my face like this.

  Part of me was tempted to linger, to make Erica wait, but she might call Daniel and tell him I wanted to get caught. Of course, I didn’t. But a caged animal is going to escape when given the opportunity. They’d clipped my wings, but they couldn’t take away my need to fly. That moment in the park was about me, not Erica or Curtis or my studio or the people of New York. Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to piss Erica off more by ignoring her ten-minute deadline. If she quit on me now, I’d lose everything.

  We didn’t have time to hire someone new, even if someone was available. Clearly, I still needed her help. We needed to find common ground, figure out how to work together. And do to that, I did something I should’ve done about Erica earlier: I called my lawyer.

  Lana answered her phone from a coffee shop where she’d already stopped to pick up breakfast. She promised to be on my doorstep, with chocolate croissants and lattes, in less than twenty minutes. I could manage Erica for a little while on my own, knowing backup was on the way. Especially after a long and fortifying shower.

  When I returned to the kitchen fully clothed with wet hair streaming down my back, newspapers lay spread across every surface. The original front page she’d shoved at me was there, along with several others, including a surprise spread from a New York City paper. Who knew they cared about our little election down there?

  Erica sat on a stool at the island, sipping something steaming from a paper cup she must’ve brought with her. Good, because like an inconsiderate jerk, I didn’t ask Lana to bring her anything. She spoke into her phone.

  When I walked in, she said, “I’ll call you back” and banged the phone onto the counter. To me, she said, “Daniel is very disappointed.”

  “You called my campaign manager?” Please, please, please tell me he didn’t mention the kiss.

  “Of course I did. He needs to know about the difficulties I’m having with this assignment. You should have spoken with him already.”

  “Yes, and maybe I would have if I’d been awake for more than thirty seconds before you barged in. Excuse me for thinking I should find out what the hell’s going on before calling to report that there’s a circus outside my front door.”

  “That circus isn’t going to go away as long as you give them stories like this. Once you catch their eye as someone sensational or interesting, that’s it. That’s why I told you to be careful. But you didn’t listen. And look at what happened.” She gestured wildly at the pages all over my kitchen.

  The first newspaper I picked up showed me hanging upside down, legs spread under a headline that read, STRIPPER RUNS FOR STATE SENATE by Jerry Braithwaite. The dude from the front porch. Hmmmph. He’d seemed so nice when he did my candidate profile after the fundraiser. I didn’t even know what to say.

  “But there was no one else around…” I said helplessly. It sounded weak, even to my own ears.

  “The evidence clearly indicates otherwise.”

  Behind me, the front door opened, then closed. A moment later, Lana appeared at my side. I gratefully accepted the hazelnut latte and chocolate croissant she offered, no longer feeling bad about not buying Erica anything. How dare she call Daniel without talking to me first? What did she say about me before I walked in? Was she trying to convince him to get me to drop out of the election? Or was he trying to stop her from walking away and leaving the campaign high and dry?

  “Nice to see you again, Erica.” Lana peeked around my arm at the pictures of me posing on the pole. “Wow. Great chopper!”

  “Are you here to help?” Erica asked.

  “To help you? No. I’m here to support Melody. Who is in kick-ass shape and likes to work out and isn’t doing anything illegal or immoral.”

  “Well, there were signs saying the park closes at sundown,” I admitted.

  “Were you cited?”

  “No.”

  “Then it doesn’t matter.”

  “You’re completely missing the issue at hand,” Erica said. “My job is to make Melody likable so people will vote for her. Women running for office have an extraordinary challenge in this country. Look at Hillary Clinton. Look at Elizabeth Warren. It sucks, but we live in a world where a woman has to be twice as good as a man to get half as many votes. I’ve spent the last three weeks molding Melody into someone the people of Saratoga can respect enough to want her representing them.” She jabbed her finger at the pictures. “How can people respect this?”

  “You’re not giving the voters enough credit,” Lana said. “Maybe they’d respect Mel for being strong and passionate and believing in herself. Or for having the kind of dedication it takes to get to her level.”

  Erica snorted. My head swiveled back and forth between them. “You’re hopelessly naive.”

  “You know what? You’re fired.” Lana said. “I can handle Melody’s image from here.”

  My mouth dropped. Never in my wildest dreams had I expected this. But Daniel would object much less strenuously to my letting Erica go if I had someone else to step into her shoes. Lana was a lawyer; she had a background in politics. Maybe she didn’t have Erica’s specific exp
erience, but she could handle the job.

  “You can’t fire me,” Erica said. “I don’t work for you.”

  “Maybe she can’t, but I can,” I said.

  “No, you can’t, either. I was hired by the party, paid by the campaign.”

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll call Daniel and tell him to fire you. But for now, please leave.”

  Erica swept her briefcase off the counter and stormed out. Newspapers fluttered around the room in her wake. As soon as the door slammed, I squealed and hugged Lana.

  “Thank you so much!”

  “You’re welcome! I can’t believe you put up with that bitch for so long,” she said. “Now, first things first. Let’s go to my place. I need a pole lesson.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Splash: So named, presumably, because you look like you’re about to fall face-first into a swimming pool. But gracefully. When I started pole, I learned so very many cool ways to fall…

  - Push and Pole Fitness Tutorials, Vol. 3

  By the time I finished my lesson with Lana, my spirits rose significantly. They plummeted again when I entered campaign headquarters that afternoon and found Erica and Daniel sitting in the back office, stone-faced. Apparently she was right, and I didn’t have the authority to fire her. Darn it. I still hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Daniel about last night, and I’d stupidly hoped he would be alone when I got here.

  He looked up when I entered, stone-faced. My heart stuttered at his expression. He definitely didn’t look like he wanted to kiss me again. Whatever I’d hoped to say stuck in my throat. I looked around for anything to do other than going to join them. Our interns sat by the back wall in the main room, both speaking rapidly into the phone while other lines rang off the hook. Jade was speaking Spanish, while Seth spoke into the main office phone and texted on two cells simultaneously. Impressive.