Fighting Wrath

by Jennifer Miller

  “What ‘s the worst that could happen, Syd? Does he really care about you or not?”

  “He told me he loves me,” I bite my lip after I utter the words, still not believing them myself.

  Rena’s eyes widen and she claps her hands in excitement, “See! Honey, there’s not anything you can’t tell him. You need to trust in his feelings for you.”

  “You’re right, but I don’t want to lose him.”

  “Babe, if he’s going to leave you because you took a job that’s helped you support your brother and put yourself through school, then he’s not worth your time and energy. You are doing what you have to do and no one has a right to judge you for that.”

  Tears well up in my eyes because I really believe she’s right – no rationalization - and I nod as if it emphasizes her words. “I have nothing to be ashamed of. Yes, I take my clothes off for money, but I’d do much worse if it meant that Sammy would be as happy as he is now. After what he’s been through, he deserves everything.”

  “Then that’s all that matters,” she shrugs and I remain quiet.

  If only it were that easy. I love Rena, and her love for me allows this to be so simple in her eyes. She doesn’t understand my fear. So I elect to change the subject. “How’s Mark?” I ask her completely expecting to hear about whatever she’s discovered about him that she doesn’t like.

  “He’s great. We went hiking up Camelback Mountain yesterday - can you believe that? He actually got me to go hiking! It was pretty fun, especially when we found this little alcove that we could hide in and totally had sex.”

  My mouth hangs open speechless. It takes her a minute to realize I’m staring at her stupidly. “What?” she asks defensively.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  “If this is because I told you we had mountain sex, don’t be such a prude.”

  I laugh at her and together we walk over to the vanity so I can apply some makeup and do my hair.

  A few hours later I’ve already served more drinks than I can count and given three lap dances. My feet are starting to hurt just a little, but I’m doing my best to ignore it because it’s about time for my performance.

  Back in the dressing room, I stare at my reflection in the mirror, fixing my hair and reapplying lipgloss since it’s already faded. When Rena appears in the mirror behind me, I’m stupefied. “Hey, didn’t I see that your shift ended a half hour ago?”

  “Yeah, but I got suckered into doing another lap dance and then a few minutes ago a big group came in and Nikki got their table, but I helped them make some drinks at the bar.”

  “Nikki’s here? Ugh. I thought we lucked out not having to deal with her tonight.”

  “Yeah, she just came in a bit ago through the front. Her name wasn’t on the schedule, so unless she’s covering for someone, she must just be hanging out. I didn’t get a look at any of them in that group she appears to be with, but I’m going to have to check them out because I’ve got to know who the hell hangs out with her.”

  “I completely understand that curiosity,” I laugh.

  “So, you already for your number?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “What are you dancing to tonight?”

  “I’m doing some Queen Bey tonight. They’ve got my chair already on stage, I’m told.”

  “Ohhh yes, I love this one. I’m gonna watch you from backstage.”

  “Alright, well I’m up.”

  “Shake it, love,” she smiles at me with her send off.

  “I’ll shake it, babe.”

  Giving her a little wave, I walk out to the stage and stand behind the yet-to-open curtain and in front of my chair. The first part of my number starts with my back to the crowd. It’s a way to tease them before turning around and showing them the goods, as Rena would say.

  When the music starts, the lights go down out front, and the large spots focus on me as the curtain rises. I pause a second with closed eyes and take a deep breath before I start to move. this is a professional burlesque act, I think to myself. I can display my toolkit of choreography. The song has a slow beat, enabling a gradual seduction. I bend over and come up slowly, rubbing my hands over my body. Moving around the chair, I keep my face averted, only teasing them with the swaying of my hips, my arms wrapping around my body and moving over my skin seductively. I bend to the ground and roll back up slowly. I do a variety of well-rehearsed moves, spotlighting my long legs. Then, I turn around and while my head is off to the side, I move my hands to the snap of my bra between my breasts and as the men cheer for me to take it off, I let the material cover whatever it will briefly, then unsnap it and slowly remove the bra from my shoulders, feeling my breasts move freely from the enclosure. As I strut to the pole, my hands seductively move over them, enfolding them until I position them to clearly touch and then pinch my nipples, my mouth opening in an exaggerated circle as if emitting a silent scream at my own touch.

  Beginning the first of a few planned slow swings around the pole, I become aware of something that sounds and feels… off. Shaking my head slightly to regain my focus, I gradually reduce my circling on the pole and change up the choreography. Bending down, I slide up the pole seductively, but am again roused by an escalating noise. It finally dawns on me that something is transpiring in the crowd. I do my best to stay focused and block everything out and continue with the entertainment.

  I put my back to the crowd again and hold onto the pole, using it to stabilize me as I lower to, then rise from the ground. I know I’ve done this already, but it’s steadying and the crowd certainly doesn’t give a shit. I’m again losing myself to the music and the routine when a voice slices through the music and lights, “SYDNEY!”

  What the hell? Slightly startled, I try to figure out where that came from. No one has ever yelled my name during an act before. And if there’s a problem, it’s always dealt with. Thank god for Bruce. I think about stopping, but know the expectation is perform until the music ends. Continuing and trying to appear unaffected, in curiosity I squint through the lights, able to make out forms moving around, but they look like dark shapes. I’m shocked when Rena is suddenly at my side. The music abruptly stops. Looking at her in confusion, I ask, “What’s going on? Why are you up here? Why did they stop the music?”

  Before she can answer me the house lights come up and I observe the source of the commotion. Bruce is trying to physically hold someone back from barreling onto the stage. Bruce has his back to me and I can’t see the man he’s blocking, but from Bruce’s stance he’s struggling to rein this guy in. There’s lots of other commotion behind them. I’m totally confused by the activity and wondering why anyone would have yelled my name like that.

  Awkwardly crossing my arms over my chest,, I look around the stage for my top and the room for Freddy wondering why he’s not helping Bruce. My head turns as my eyes pass over the room, but quickly swings back when I notice something odd. Just to the right of Bruce is Nikki. She’s standing there with a sick oversized smile on her face, finger pointing, and she’s watching me expectantly, “Why is Nikki looking at me like that? What’s going on?” I ask Rena.

  Before she can answer me the yelling finally penetrates my stupid, stupid mind. “SYDNEY, what the FUCK are you doing up there?” As the person, still trying to evade Bruce becomes visible, my mouth drops open as my eyes meet his. With recognition and increased awareness comes an instant burning in my stomach that first falls to my feet, then ends up consuming me, making my eyes water immediately. A sour taste erupts in my throat and mouth, a strange buzzing starts in my ears and I’m pretty sure I’m going to be ill.

  “Tyson,” I whisper, “Oh god.”

  “Let go of me! I’m getting my girl the FUCK off that stage!”

  I can’t move.

  I can’t think.

  I can’t breathe. Oh god, I can’t breathe.

  “No! No!” he yells as he struggles against Bruce. “Get her the FUCK off of there.”

  “Rena,” I whisper h
elplessly.

  “I’m here.” She says and takes hold of my hand as Tyson continues to yell.

  “Get her some clothes, goddammit! COVER HER THE FUCK UP!”

  Out of nowhere someone appears with a robe and puts it over my shoulders. They try to usher me off the stage, but I can’t move. Bruce finally manages to get Tyson to the exit and Tyson continues to scream the whole way.

  “Come on, Sydney. Let’s go get you changed,” Rena tells me and I follow her backstage to my locker and silently change my clothes. Tears stream down my face the whole time. I tremor. Oh god. I just needed a little more time. Why? This is not what I wanted. I knew it. I knew he would be upset. I knew it was all too good to be true. I can’t face him. Not ever again. He’ll never look at me again. There will be no way for me to explain this. And oh my god, we just promised each other no secrets.

  Once I’m dressed, I look blankly at Rena, “I need to leave. Can you tell Freddy that I left? Tell him whatever you want, but I need to get out of here.”

  “You shouldn’t drive. Just give me a minute and I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

  “Rena, I’m fine. Really. I just need to get out of here, okay?”

  She looks at me for a moment, and I don’t know what she sees, but she nods her head, “Okay. But call me when you get home. I want to know you made it and then we can talk as soon as I get there.”

  I nod my head and she gives me a hug and I half-heartedly hug her in return. Gathering my things, I walk outside and go to my car, head down, tears streaming in rivers as I try to think about how I’m going to get Tyson to talk to me again. And if I should even try.

  I stop immediately when I see Tyson standing against my car. There’s absolutely no expression on his face. His arms are crossed, his hands in fists, and he watches me approach. I’d feel better if he looked angry, but he just looks… blank. Standing there, not knowing what to say, he turns his back as if to walk away and I panic. “Tyson! No! Please don’t leave like this.”

  Walking after him, I’m surprised when I realize his gait has slowed a bit. He reaches his truck, walks to the passenger side door and unlocks it, holding it open for me. I hesitate for just a second before I get inside. Without making any eye contact, he closes the door. Watching him closely as he walks around to his side, I see his jaw ticking as he grits his teeth. When he climbs in, he starts the engine, puts the car in gear and begins to drive. As we pull out of the parking lot, I see Rena standing in the doorway and she gives me a little wave as we pass. Struggling to figure out where to begin, how to explain, and how I can make him understand, I have no words and feel clueless about where to start so I merely stay quiet.

  We drive the whole way to his place in complete silence.

  I can’t help but think that this is the calm before the perfect storm.

  This is really happening. What I wouldn’t give for this to be a damn nightmare. No matter how many times I blink or try to push the images out of my mind, I can’t. I couldn’t fucking believe what I was seeing. After I won the fight, Eli convinced me to go out for a drink with the guys to celebrate my win and toast my last fight. I resisted initially, just wanting to call Sydney and go home. When I tried to call her and she didn’t answer, I conceded. Out of nowhere Nikki appeared and convinced everyone to go to the Pink Kitty. I guess I now realize why.

  My plan was to have one drink and leave. One drink. I got up and went to the bathroom when the lights were lowered and the dance on stage started. After finishing and intending to return and tell everyone goodnight, my eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the woman on the stage. She was getting quite a few catcalls and other responses from the audience. Initially I felt guilty for even looking, but then I couldn’t look away. Despite the smoke and lights, something about her was eerily familiar. When she turned around and I saw her face immediately before her bra came off, I lost my shit. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I still can’t fucking believe it.

  My girl. On stage. Practically naked. Dancing for men that aren’t me. Fuck. No.

  The anger inside of me right now is incomprehensible. The fire is again ignited. And the flame is intensifying. I make my jaw firm and tight, grit my teeth hard, grinding them together. If I open my mouth right now, I won’t be able to control what comes out of it. Sparks of bright yellow, orange and red will spew from it like a ferocious blaze, singeing and searing whatever it touches. And I won’t be able to douse it. Continuing to breathe deeply through my nose, I do my best to focus on that instead of the fact that she’s right next to me. Having her in the car with me right now was the worst fucking idea I’ve ever had. My breathing begins to sound louder in my ears and when we get to my place, I slam on the brakes with a jerk as I throw it into park.

  Practically rolling out of the truck and striding in ever-increasing movements straight to my front door, I vaguely hear the passenger door close and only then assume that she is following me. I don’t have it within me to worry about her right now, too concerned with the growing agitation and eruption within me. I head straight for the couch after I unlock the door, leaving it open for her. Leaning forward, I place my elbows on my knees, supporting my head in my hands and concentrate more fully on my breathing. I’m trying my best to calm down.

  I can hear her silently moving about the room and as she does so, images start flashing through my mind. Her blonde hair shining under the lights, the way her body moved in ways that no one but me should see. The translucence of her outfit. The way the crowd cheered and cackled when her bra ripped from her body and her tits were revealed to everyone. To fucking everyone.

  Lifting my head slowly, I stare at her. She’s standing by the kitchen counter shifting from foot to foot as she watches me, a look of uncertainty and perhaps anxiousness on her face. When she sees me looking at her, she speaks. Big. Fucking. Mistake. “Look, I know what you’re probably thinking, but I can explain and it really isn’t a big deal. I mean I even gave you a lap dance once before. You just don’t remember. Once you hear-”

  “Not a big deal?” I ask her, my voice quiet and my mind reeling with disbelief at what she just said, while at the same time having clarity about why she looked familiar initially.

  “I was going to tell you…”

  “WHEN? WHEN THE FUCK WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME THAT YOU DANCE NAKED IN FRONT OF OTHER MEN?”

  Her head snaps back as if she was slapped, and I am amazed that she could be surprised at the fury and volume of my voice.

  “I was just talking to Rena today about-“

  “Today? TODAY? How long have we been dating now? How many chances have you had to tell me?”

  “I don’t… I didn’t-” she stutters over her words and I stalk over to the bookshelf my back turned to her unable to look at her.

  “When Nikki kept pushing and pushing for everyone to go to the club and said she’d buy everyone drinks, I should have known something was up,” I comment.

  “Nikki? What? You were with her?”

  Spinning to look at her I ask, “Why should it even matter? I mean obviously you don’t respect me enough to even be fucking honest, so would it even matter to you?”

  Her mouth drops open, “Of course I care and I more than respect you. I’m in love with you.”

  “DON’T! Don’t you dare try and throw those words in my face right now. You can’t possibly tell me that and mean it.”

  Her face falls and I feel triumph at knowing I’m hurting her as much as she’s hurt me. It’s sick but true. “Wait,” she says. “You were with all the guys and your face, you’ve got new bruises. You were fighting.” She walks to me and touches a mark on my face and I pull away from her with a jerk not wanting her to touch me.

  “This isn’t about me.”

  She laughs cruelly, “Oh it sure as hell is. You can’t get on me for not being honest with you when you lied to me. You told me no more fighting. You lied too.”

  “I tried to call you. I tried to be up front with you. I wanted to ta
lk to you about helping Eli out one more time. But I couldn’t reach you. You didn’t answer your damn phone. Now I know why. You were too busy shaking your tits and ass in other men’s faces and couldn’t answer my call.”

  “Don’t you dare, Tyson. That’s not what it’s about for me. Not at all. You know what it’s like to do anything you’d have to in order to care for and support your sibling. To make sacrifices and less than desirable choices and do anything… anything you have to do so that they can have better. You’ve been there. So you know what it’s like. Think about this. See it through my eyes. You have to understand. You know how it is. ”

  “How many times?”

  “What?” she asks in confusion.

  “Since we’ve been together how many times would you say you’ve been naked in front of someone else?”

  “What?”

  “You fucking heard me. How many times?” I spit each word out with emphasis.

  “Did you not hear what I said? This wouldn’t be my first choice either. This isn’t what I want. But this is what I’ve done in order to support myself and Sammy and to try and make a better life for us.”

  I can’t process what she’s saying to me. I hear the words, of course, but they aren’t registering. On some level within me they make sense. I may even understand them. But the red in my vision keeps getting brighter as I see her spinning around the pole, and the image of her tits shaking on stage. Every movement I saw and all the others I can imagine continue to appear in my mind like some sick stuck video recording, playing over and over and over again. Grabbing a picture frame that contains a smiling image of myself, and my first restored car, I hurl it across the room and feel a fleeting moment of satisfied release as it shatters. “I ASKED YOU HOW MANY TIMES?”

  She stares at the frame on the floor with disbelief and as if in slow motion I see her head swing back towards me, but I don’t look at her. I grab another picture off the shelf and throw it. The release is so needed. As though a mighty wind has caught the fire and pushed it at enormous speeds downhill toward anything within its path, I grab books and anything within reach - and throw them all to the floor with a roar. Stalking across the room, crimson anger rises from the burning blaze and I feel the heat and hear the hiss of the growing, raging flames, I take a lamp and beat it against the floor until the iron bends and throw it across the room to express my wrath.