by Toni Aleo
“What made you change?” I ask when she pauses.
A slow grin comes across her face before she looks up at me. “Phillip.”
I’m completely engrossed in her. Taking in a deep breath, I ask, “How?”
“He came and saved me. At the time, I thought he was ruining my life more, but I was completely wrong. He loved me so fiercely and helped me and pushed me to be a better person. Then Reese came along and gave me dance as my outlet and things just fell into place. I no longer think I’m going to end up a strung-out stripper dead in an alley. I may not know what I want, but I do want to be the best at whatever I choose.”
Her story warms my heart. It really is a phoenix-type story. She burned to ashes but then rose from them. It’s inspiring and only makes me love her more. I go to tell her that, but she says, “I know that it isn’t your typical childhood story, but I’m not ashamed of it. I think it made me stronger. I just never wanted to tell you because no one knows but Reese and Phillip.”
“I’m glad you told me,” I say, squeezing her hands.
A grin pulls at her lips. “Not scared? Don’t want to run the other way?”
I shake my head. “Nope, I admire you for your strength and power to overcome the shit that was dealt to you. You are inspiring, baby.”
“Thanks,” she says shyly as she looks away, a grin still gracing her lips.
“And I know what your next tattoo should be.”
“What?” she asks, her fingers playing with the strings to my sweats.
When she looks up at me, I say, “A phoenix, because your story really defines just that.”
“You’re right.”
I nod. “I know I am.”
“Oh, hush,” she says with a laugh. She then shakes her head as she says, “Wow, we really had a come-to-Jesus talk, huh?”
Reaching out, I take her sweet face in my hands, bringing her closer to me. “Yeah, and I have to say, I think I love you more.”
Grinning, she leans her head to mine and says, “I couldn’t agree more.”
Chapter 32
Claire
Crawling slowly and very provocatively, I move to the end of the stage and then quickly spread my legs behind me in the splits. Running my hands down the lace of my top, I stop above my center before turning to my back, letting my legs fall open then shut and open again. Tens, twenties, and even hundreds rain on me as I circle my legs to the music of “Fever.” Arching my back, I go to the tip of my toes and then bring myself to my feet, kicking the heels of my shoes against my ass as I walk toward the middle of the stage where my chair sits. With every step I take, a bill falls to the ground and I mentally count each one, adding it to my bank in my head.
I’m so close I can taste it.
Tonight is a good night. Lots of really important, rich people are here tonight, and they are throwing the cash like it’s nothing to them. But it’s everything to me. Taking the back of the chair, I shake my ass to the music, and the crowd claps and whistles in appreciation of what I’m doing. Straddling it, I lean back, letting my head brush the ground as I move my hands along my body, giving the boys a show. Sitting up, I turn around, stopping my legs in front before standing up just as the curtains go up. Behind me are four other dancers, and right on the beat of the music, we go into a hard-hitting dance routine that flaunts our bodies in the best way possible.
Slowly the girls head back up the stairs, posing in various styles as I go back to the end of the stage, my eyes never leaving the older man who has been giving me loads of money all night. Dropping into a squat, I run my hands along my thighs. His beady brown eyes darken as he stands, coming toward me. Ben, our security guy, stops between us, and the guy puts his hands up as I continue to shake and move. Opening his wallet, he takes out hundreds and waves them in front of Ben’s face, but he doesn’t care one bit about the money.
But I do. I want that money.
I pat Ben’s shoulder and he steps to the side. I slowly move my body, biting my lips as I bend to the left, shaking my ass for him. He can’t touch me. If he does, Ben will dismember him – but he can look. Running my fingers from my lips down my chest and between my legs, I give him a very seductive look, one that I know is my moneymaker, and he lays eight one hundred dollar bills at my feet, nodding his head, still holding a bunch of hundreds.
“Take something off, sweetheart. Let me get a–,” he says, but before he can get the last word out, Ben places his hand on his chest.
“This is the burlesque side. The naked girls are on the other side,” Ben yells.
The man shakes his head. “But I want her.”
“She isn’t yours to take,” I hear Ben say and then he turns to me. “Go on.”
I nod, blowing the man a kiss, and as I slowly walk backward trying to get some more money, I see the guy go to take back the money he laid on the stage. Ben is quick to act, and just as fast as the old guy reached for the money, his face ends up against it.
“And that’s it for our beautiful Diamond. Let’s hear it people, she’ll be back out soon.”
Turning, a grin comes on my face as the crowd hoots and hollers for me. Going through the curtains, I let out a long breath before pulling off my pin-curled, blond-haired wig. The wig is so itchy, I’m going to have to get another one, but I love this style. It is so pretty and very burlesque. As I wait for Tony, our money collector, I scratch my head and basically moan out from how good it feels. Pulling down the long black gloves that go up to my elbows, I tuck them into the bra of my lacy black outfit before stretching my arms. I’m sore and I’m tired, but I only have one more dance and then I’m done for the night. I haven’t seen Ms. Prissy yet and I need to.
I’m gonna quit the stage.
I can’t take it anymore. I feel like I’m lying, and I can’t do that anymore. I love Jude too much. Ever since we lay in bed and basically opened the closet and aired it out, I know I can’t do this. I should have told him then. He was so compassionate, so sweet and understanding. He thinks I’m strong and believes in the person I am, and I think that’s why I didn’t tell him. I couldn’t taint what he thinks about me; I want him to continue thinking I hung the moon and stars. For that to happen, I have to quit. I have to let this go. Yes, it’s hard because I am so good at it, but I just can’t help but think that Jude will throw a fucking fit.
For the last two days, I’ve felt like I’m allowing some guy to change me, but sometimes you change for the right person. Reese doesn’t do this anymore. Yeah, she’ll choreograph stuff, but she hasn’t been onstage since she was twenty-one, back when she didn’t have someone to care if she danced for men. I found that person early, and this isn’t a job that a girlfriend or maybe even a wife should have, especially the other half to an NHL player. How would that look? What if people found out? How would Jude handle that? Yeah, he may be fine with me doing it, but what about when the world finds out? I don’t know and that scares me. I can’t lose him. I just can’t. If something happens and the investors want to hire me, then I’ll tell him about this. He’d have to be proud, right? He’d still believe in me, but then again, maybe he won’t and everything will come crashing down on me.
Who knows? All I know is tonight will be my last performance.
Finally, Tony shows up with my bucket full of cash. “One thousand twenty-eight.”
“Fabulous, thank you,” I say, handing him a five out the bunch and then taking out four twenties for the girls who were onstage with me. Turning, I head to my station where all my stuff sits. I put my wig on a mannequin head and then kick off my sky-high heels, loving the way the tile cools my feet. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I smile. I love this outfit; it’s my moneymaking outfit since it is the most revealing. The whole thing is black, the top a see-through lace, my nipples only being covered by a darker piece of lace. Ten strips of satin ribbon run along my stomach, connecting to satin panties that have to be held down with glue to stay in place. Let’s just say, this outfit is gorgeous and may get me p
aid, but man, it’s a bitch to take off.
Laying my bucket on the table, I stand in front of it and count each bill, making sure that Tony’s count was accurate. He almost always is, but I still like to check. Bundling my money up, I open the safe I keep in my station and lock it up before dropping onto the bench. Combing my hair up with my fingers, I bundle it on the top of my head before reaching for my phone to check the time. It’s a little past midnight and that surprises me because I usually have already seen Ms. Prissy by now.
Looking over at Ellen, I see that she’s on her phone, a dreamy little grin on her face. “Have you seen Prissy?”
She shakes her head without looking up from the phone. “Nope.”
“What are you doing?”
“Talking to my man.”
My brow quirks up. “Your man?”
She looks over at me, nodding her head, her curls bouncing against her face. “Oh yeah, I’ve figured it out.”
“Figured out what?”
Laying her phone down, she looks over at me like I’m beneath her. I’m not sure what the look is about, but before I can ask, she says, “That guys our age are dumb and nasty. Older is the way to go.”
I scoff. “Oh, is that right?”
“Yes, Claire, you just don’t know how amazing this man is. I am completely in love with him.”
“You are?” I ask since Ellen hasn’t been with anyone long enough to even like them.
She nods quickly. “Oh yeah, we’ve been dating for almost a month.”
My point exactly, she goes from crab boy to older guy. Not that I tell her that. “And Claire! He’s so rich and powerful!”
Bingo, ladies and gentlemen, that’s why she loves him.
“Wow, that’s wonderful,” I say, holding in my laughter.
“He’s amazing. He’s actually one of the investors. He’s from New York and only comes in on the weekends to see me.”
Hearing the investor part, I look over at her, intrigued. She may not know how big of a deal it is to be dating someone like that, so I decide to remind her. “Well, make sure to keep him happy! We need him to consider us,” I say with a wink.
But she glares, her eyes and demeanor acting as if she’s the older, wiser one of us, when that couldn’t be any further from the truth. Ellen is a dimwit. “It is more than the investor shit, Claire. This is true love!”
“Yes, it is,” I say sarcastically, but she won’t ever realize that. “I wish y’all the best.”
She smiles sweetly before turning to pick her phone back up. Looking back at the mirror, I move my hair out of my face and wash off the makeup from my previous performance. I’m doing a softer song in my next set. It’s something I’ve been working on, and I’m excited since this will be the first and last time I perform it.
It’s for Jude.
I know it’s dumb since he will never see it, but every time I hear the song, I think of him.
“There’s Ms. Prissy,” Ellen says suddenly.
Whipping my head around, I catch her going into her office. Standing up, I check the time and I have plenty of time to talk to her. Rushing to her office, I knock on the door and she looks up from her desk, her red hair falling into her face. She’s wearing a black leather bodysuit today with matching whip. She must have been on the Rock Room side.
“Hey, Claire, you okay?” she asks, a grin growing on her face.
I bite my lip because I know by the end of this conversation that grin won’t be there. “Yeah, can I talk to you?”
“Sure, baby, close the door,” she says, closing a file as I do as she asks, then I fall into the seat in front of her desk.
“What’s up?”
Moving my fingers together, I bite the inside of my cheek and take in a deep breath. She isn’t going to like this one bit, but I have to remember the reason I’m doing this.
Jude.
“I’m quitting the stage,” I say and watch as her face contorts in anger. “I still want to choreograph for you, but I mainly want to be backstage only. I can’t be onstage anymore.”
Nothing is said. Her eyes are locked on me, and I’m ready for her to start screaming. Surprising though, she doesn’t.
“Why?” she asks, her voice sharp and to the point.
Swallowing loudly, I say, “Well, for two reasons, or maybe two people. I’m not sure how my uncle will react to this, and I have a boyfriend now. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want his girlfriend onstage.”
“No one knows it’s you. We make sure of that.”
I nod. “I know, but I know and I feel like I’m lying to them.”
“Who cares? Lock that shit up. You are my best dancer, my biggest moneymaker.”
“I know, but I can’t stay here for the rest of my life, Ms. Prissy. You knew this day would come.”
“Yeah, I did,” she snaps. “But not three weeks before the investors come. I need you.”
“I will be here, backstage. I will still come and work with the girls and get them stage-ready. I’m not going to leave you hanging.”
She starts to shake her head before I even finish my sentence. “No, I need you onstage. What do you want, more money?”
I shake my head. “No, I can’t do it.”
She eyes me and then leans on her forearms, looking me straight in the eye. “Yes, you can, and here’s what I’m offering. Give me until the investors come. I won’t take a cut of your tips, no station fee, nothing.”
Holy crap, that’s over a grand I’ll be keeping. She must have known that would mess with my decision to leave because she goes on. “You will be strictly coming here, working, and leaving with every cent you make. On top of that, I’ll pay you five hundred dollars more, in addition to the money I’m already paying you.”
Fucking hell, I’ll have way more money than I wanted to save. I’ll be set.
“After the investors come and go, if you don’t get hired, which, by the way… What happens if you do get hired?”
I shrug. “I’ll have to tell them then, and pray that they’ll support me.”
She shakes her head, bored with me as she says, “Okay, whatever. After that, you can go and strictly be backstage. Don’t turn this down; this is a good deal. I need you and you know that.”
I nod. “I do, but it isn’t about the money,” I say, but I think we both know that is a complete lie. “I love them, and I don’t want to lose either one of them.”
Looking me square in the eyes, Ms. Prissy basically says what Reese said weeks ago. “If they love you, they will support you, no matter what.” Clearing her throat, she says, “My parents did not support me at first when I opened this business, but when they saw how happy I was, they did. Some people are made for this, and I believe you are one of them. The investors are going to eat you up, you watch. I’ve been talking you up something crazy, and I bet your bottom dollar that they are going to offer you something you won’t be able to refuse. I suggest you tell your loved ones now before you are forced to.”
I look away and take in a deep breath before blowing it out my nose. “But I’m quitting.”
She scoffs. “No, baby, you’re not and you know it. We both know that money talks, and I just gave you the mother lode.”
Not answering her, tears rush to my eyes because she’s completely right. I need that money; it will set me up for the rest of my life. If things don’t work out for me and Jude, not that I would expect to live off him, I’ll need the money in the future. If they do work out for us and I get picked up by the investors, I can put this money in a trust fund for our little hockey-playing babies. The best hockey schools aren’t cheap.
This money is my future.
I can’t turn my back on it.
It’s only for a few more weeks.
Everything will be fine.
“Okay,” I say, meeting her gaze again.
“That’s right, now off you go. You have a pole dance to get ready for,” she says, waving me off. I go to stand and she says, “I believe in you, Cla
ire. You have talent, talent no one can touch, and I know that these men who you love will come around once they know how much you love this and how good you are at it.”
Not able to trust my voice since tears are threatening to fall, I nod and then leave the room. As I walk back to my station, a stray tear rolls down my cheek, but that’s the only one I will allow to fall. I chose this life, and as much as I want to believe her words, I can’t.
It doesn’t matter, though. I need the money.
Chapter 33
Jude
Leaning against the doorframe, I knock twice on Claire’s door and wait. We both have classes this morning, and I won’t see her until it’s time to pick her up to go to her uncle’s. Since I got her something awesome, I can’t wait that long to see her. When the door flies open, Claire grins at me and I smile back. She just woke up and is wearing my favorite pair of dance shorts and my Bullies sweatshirt I gave her the other night when she came over to stay the night. Her hair is in a tangled mess on her head, and her eyes are covered with black-framed glasses like the very first time I saw her.
Smiling, I say, “Are those real?”
“Yeah, for reading,” she says as she goes up on her toes, kissing my lips.
“They are superhot. You should wear them to bed one time,” I say with a wink.
