by Rissa Brahm
The one exception, though, was when she was in her mobile and temporary piece of paradise with Antonio at the wheel. He’d make her die laughing with his limo stories—she had quickly dropped out of the competition because her ER stories made her miss her real job too much, and her club stories made her hate her current one even more. He’d also tell her about his beloved Vallarta, and his huge family that had dwindled down to just his brother Ray, his sister Isabel, and Celeste and her girls in Jersey. She loved hearing about his siblings and their real, crazy, loving interactions. In general, the details of his life were a sweet distraction, a reprieve from her reality.
Then sometimes he’d remain perfectly silent. Giving her space, room to breathe, time to be. She thought it was a little crazy how in-tune he was to her needs, all unspoken, but he’d anticipate them just the same. It could’ve been that he was damn good at his job, super service-oriented. But, still, it was a little eerie. Not even Luly called her moods as well.
So for the entire week, from the hospital to the club, to the apartment and back again, round and round went the merry-go-round. Except when her new friend, her guardian angel, pulled up to take her away, if only for a short time, until the next insanity.
And of course, there were plenty of instances of insanity. She’d gotten not a single call or email update from her precious ER all week, and that drove her to the brink. And she’d made a small payment toward her father’s hospital bill with the advance Johnnie had insisted on giving her, but that teeny drop in the bucket seemed to make the hospital all the more diligent, approaching her mother daily instead of phoning Jana. Now her mother was calling Jana upon each occurrence, gnawing on her ear like a rabid mutt on a bone, but slightly more needy. Oh, then after hours upon hours on the phone with four different credit card companies, Jana now had to wait ’til the following week for her cards’ cash advances to hit her account so she could make a larger dent in the hospital bills. Then the billing people would lay off a bit, right? Unlikely. Round and round she spun.
Then, there were the girls at the club.
*
The dancers were super needy or full of attitude, one extreme or another. But she already knew that.
Today she got to the club a little early. She needed to pick through a pretty pathetic pile of resumes; many more of the existing girls had been weeded out because of the stringent training schedule she’d implemented. She also wanted to give the remaining girls some extra pole work before the Friday night peak, and, yes, to impress Johnnie. And she’d stay until midnight or later like she had every night this week. She needed to get this right. Make changes fast.
And God, the girls hated change. Again, something she already knew. But they wanted their income to change! She needed their income to change; she needed the club’s top line to change. Hell, the changes were only subtle tweaks to bring the atmosphere up: music choice, some costume guidelines, and of course, more elaborate pole work. But really, how much class could she possibly infuse into a club named The Wet Spot? In Newark-flippin’-New Jersey.
Anyway, it turned out to be a really good thing Johnnie was gone for the week. Even though she had gotten a virtual carte blanche from him with how she handled the training, the girls seeing that she didn’t have to consult the owner with each of her desired changes made her authority that much more real.
The other reason; there was definitely less complexity with him out of town now that she was staying at his apartment. There was no gray area staring her in the face. No mixed messages and no opportunity for an awkward situation. That is, until he came back from Long Island.
Get back to work, Jana. She sighed as she looked down at the never-ending pile overtaking the small round two-top. Filtering through the half-completed applications and amateurish headshots, all with sugary-sweet vanity email addresses to match their chosen stage names, was downright depressing. And guilt-surging. She hated the idea of meeting these faces, these names, these hopeless souls. And worse, the thought of hiring them, roping them into the life. It felt too wrong.
No choice in it, though. She’d have to call down the list.
Or she could ask the existing girls to ask their friends.
Like Amber had wrangled her nearly a decade ago.
Shit, she hated this.
She looked up to give her eyes a rest from the pile, and from the situation. The place was dead, none of the girls were out on stage yet, but the bar had a few hardcore early birds already. She sighed, wanting to be anywhere else when she heard her name. Or rather, her stage name.
“Winter! God, is that you? Still givin’ me the chills too. Damn,” a man’s voice came from behind her.
She put on a plastic grin and turned around in her seat. It was one of her very first regulars, a young attorney who had a really long last name and a really short first name, neither of which she could remember now. But she knew he helped pay for a hell of a lot of her parents’ first debt and was one of the more respectful guys she’d ever danced for in her past life.
“Hey, wow. It’s been years! How are you?” She couldn’t cover for her lack of memory. She’d worked too hard to forget it all, as a matter of fact.
“It’s Joe. Joe Papatheopoulos!”
“Of course, Joe!” He had aged over the years, deep etchings around the eyes, worry lines across his forehead, a dusting of gray at his sideburns. But he had the same kind eyes. If any regular had to recognize her, at least, it was one of the few benign ones.
“Wow! You look exactly the same, drop dead gorgeous. Amazing!”
“Thanks, Joe. Really good to see you,” she said, her face starting to hurt from her too-large-for-life smile.
He waved to Erin, the bartender, for another drink. “And one for my old friend Winter here.” He patted the stool next to him, signaling for her to join him.
“Oh, Joe, sorry. Nothing for me. I have to get back to my paperwork and then get the girls together—”
“Paperwork instead of pole work, huh? Moving up to management…good for you.”
She wasn’t going to explain. Not worth her breath. “Thanks, Joe. Yeah, taking on more responsibility these days.”
He pulled out a card from his shirt pocket and came over to her. “Look, I don’t believe in coincidences. You were legendary. Guys in my firm still talk about you. Take my card. Call me anytime you need any legal advice, whatever. For you or any of the girls,” he said, then he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Employer stuff, domestic situations, even real estate and bankruptcy, we can help. And for you, Winter Snow, totally pro bono. After all, you made our entire damn decade!” He ended his monolog but continued to stare at her, as if musing over long-passed memories in his apparently inebriated head.
“God, thanks, Joe. Really,” she said, relaxing her smile into a more genuine one. His offer was really nice. “And hey, enjoy your night, okay? The girls are training really hard on the pole, learning lots of new moves. See if you notice a difference, yeah?”
“Absolutely!” He winked and raised the glass Erin had set down for him. “Absolutely will do.”
She held up the business card, nodded another thank you, and showed him that she was sliding it right into her purse.
She turned back in her chair to the pile of resumes and sighed.
*
“Hey, Laynie!” she called, spotting the girl heading back to the dressing room.
Laynie was Jana’s favorite dancer, hands down. She was spunky and had a real talent for performing. Knew how to work the crowd. Jana thought she could go far, outside-the-club-scene far. And she was sure that no one had ever told Laynie that before. When she had given the beautiful young brunette the audition flyer she’d grabbed from the library, Laynie had lit up.
And it made Jana feel something other than numb. Maybe she could really make a difference to Laynie and to the other girls too? Get them trained, bolster them with confidence, teach them to work the system, save their money instead of shooting it into their veins or snortin
g it up their noses, and then get out and above this seedy, shitty no-type-of-life.
“Can you get all the girls together for me, sweetheart?”
Laynie nodded with a smile, snapped her thong at the hip with a wink, and headed to the back dressing room to do as she was asked.
It was an hour before the usual weekday crowd rolled in. They’d gotten used to coming in early, and the groans had even lessened. Because the alternative was bank-breaking. Jana wouldn’t let them dance if they showed up even a minute late for training, which was only enforceable now, on the slower weekday nights. It was tomorrow and Saturday night that Jana had to worry about, with the drastic dip in dancers. Shit.
She sighed. Then stood up from her seat as the stage began to fill. “Afternoon, ladies. So, before we start”—she sighed again, then swallowed, feeling suddenly parched—“need to know if any of you have friends you think would want to come and—” But she halted her words there. What the hell was she doing? Recruiting more babies? Her gut twisted. Yes, her friend Amber had given her a path to solve her fucked-up family’s money problems back in high school, and now she was back again for more, but most girls who got into the business weren’t as directed, focused, as she was. Most washed straight down the drain.
“Sorry, never mind. Let’s just stretch out, then get some pole work done.” No, she’d work with the girls she had, and with the resumes…and if girls came in seeking a spot…but that’s where it ended. The weekends hadn’t been that slammed anyway, so said Laynie. They’d be fine. Except that if she’d been training them hard and right, they might get a big influx by word of mouth alone.
“Stretching, Winter? Really?” piped Sugar, rolling her crystal-green eyes without shame.
“Yes, Sugar…you’ve got to actually stretch and warm up before each shift. You wanna get hurt? Then what?” She was shocked. There was no forethought at all. “Listen, ladies. You have to be healthy and toned to do this kind of work,” she went on, pointing to the pole. “To be great at it, to make the best money, you’ve got to physically train. You can all make astounding money here. There’s more than enough green amongst these assholes,” she pointed to the sea of empty stage-side seats, “to go around. But you’ve got to work for it. Be a cut above, and with how the other clubs in the area run things, it’s not hard to do. It does mean eating healthy, working out, little to no alcohol, and no snow, no needles. None of it. Actually, starting now, today, if the no-drug rule up to this point went unenforced, it’s being enforced now. If we even find any drugs on your person, you’re out. And I don’t care if you’re the best of the best, even if you have a following. It doesn’t matter. Any drugs, you’re done. Everyone got it?”
She took the nods and mumbling as her answer.
And then she left them all there for several minutes.
She returned with a pile of papers.
“Take one and pass ’em. You can’t dance here if you don’t sign it. It reiterates what I said. No drugs. And there will be more rules to come. Don’t like it, dance somewhere else.”
Amidst the scoffing and whispers, she went up to the pole. She reached up, her muscles flexed and shifted as she maneuvered the pole with ease as she pulled herself into an Iron X. Laynie and a few others applauded as Jana’s body maintained its perpendicular position to the pole, hovering in a parallel display of pure strength over the scuffed-up stage. Then her feet landed back on the stage floor. The whispers had stopped. She saw only wide eyes and gaping mouths. Even Sugar was silent.
“I made three times the money the other girls made in my time. The difference? I kept clean, and I kept focused. When I see you tomorrow before shift, I want everyone to be prepared to tell me their goals, I mean, their life goals.”
“I can tell you my life goals now!” Sugar announced. “Feeding my baby daddy and our six mini-mouths. Got no other priorities but that right now,” she said with her ultra-attitude stance, hip and chin jutting for emphasis.
Jana’s hand swept wide, presenting the mostly empty club and its neon red accented darkness. “This can give you a whole lot more than the basics. Believe me. So if you’re gonna be here putting it out there for these fuckers, I wanna show you how to really put it out there, and then bankroll a future for yourselves so that you don’t have to put it out there a minute longer than necessary.”
Sugar swiveled her gorgeous head of mile-high curls and spun around. The other girls either nodded or stared blankly.
No one ever tells them about a future. In fact, they’re scared shitless into hoping to get through today.
“Let’s get a new move in before the crowd comes,” Jana said. She’d obviously talked enough for tonight.
*
She worked with them for an hour then let them go back and get ready while she went back to her table to collect her papers.
“You’re pretty different,” Laynie said as she came up behind her. “I mean, I’ve only worked here for a few months, but no one has ever set rules or asked about our goals or anything like that.”
“Do you want to dance for these creeps forever?”
“God no. I want to get out of my dad’s house, away from my brother and his friends”—she looked down—“and make something of myself.” Jana realized with Laynie’s words how too many girls had it far worse than Jana had ever had it. Jana’s father had never lifted a hand to her. No, he acted as if she hadn’t existed at all. And her brother, of course, saw her as a social pariah since his friends had seen her dance and called her out on it. But they’d never touched her. She would have stuck her spiked heels in their chests if they’d tried.
But this girl was obviously trapped; trapped at home and trapped at the club. “You can get out, Laynie. I did it; why the hell couldn’t you?” Jana smiled at the pretty young thing. And Jana believed what she told her. Really. Char had told Jana the same thing. And Jana had gotten out.
Laynie tilted her head to the side as if sizing up Jana’s sincerity or her sanity. The girl’s eyes asked, “Who the fuck really gets out of this life?” Because although she was only eighteen, the girl in front of her seemed to know that most dancers usually, and easily, drown in this life. They’d get pushed into the strip club scene at the deep end of the pool to start with—sloppy money, hard drugs, and then lines were easily blurred, and soon there were no lines at all. The back rooms were often a short cry from hooking.
“We’ll see,” Laynie said, her tone sounding older than her years. “For now, just teach me how to make more cash,” she said, back to being a teenager, smacking her pink bubble gum and linking arms with Jana. “I gotta bring home enough to replenish my dad’s stash or I’ll get a bruise that no cover-up can hide. No ogler’s gonna wanna see a bruised up little bitch on stage, no matter how hard I work the pole.”
“Sadly, love, they would wanna see it. Fucked up as it is, they absolutely would. But I wouldn’t, and I’m the one who counts,” Jana said, lowering her chin to be sure Laynie got her meaning. Jana knew it was best to stay out of these girls’ personal lives, but she wouldn’t goddamn hesitate to send the cops to Laynie’s house if the girl was being hurt, and maybe then the sexual abuse Jana suspected—but who could prove—would end, too. God, this shit was too much, too sick, too painful.
She sighed watching Laynie hop up on stage, look down at Jana and wink. “See ya lata aligata.”
“Have a great night,” Jana said with a smile. Such a sweet kid.
Jana made her way to the upper bar, to her overseeing spot. Strobes and music shot on, a few girls joined Laynie on stage, and the waitresses loaded their trays with shots ready for the doors to open. Jana watched it all happen, while, thank God, she was far from it. Above it. So illusory, though, the superficial distance. It was more bearable for her, yes, but she was also more guilt-stricken too––being saved from the stares. And sitting pretty up in the balcony didn’t abate the queasiness sparked by her ever-vibrant memory of stage dancing not too long ago. It didn’t really block out the real-time, i
n-her-face foul nature of any of it.
She moistened her lips, having forgotten to grab herself some water, then she flipped open the club cell and dialed the number of the first girl in the resume stack. Water can wait. Getting more dancers in for the weekend could not.
CHAPTER 27
“Hey there, beautiful,” Johnnie whispered in her ear from behind.
He’d actually missed her. After only being in her vicinity for two nights the weekend before, he’d actually gone through withdrawals. He’d missed her scent, her smile, the quiet warmth in her voice. “Just so you know, I’m keeping the dress at my place in the City as a surprise. I’ll bring you to my place before the show so it doesn’t wrinkle on my drive over.”
She smiled, blushed, and took in a gulp of air at the same time. “Thank you. Very much. I, uh, I can’t wait to see it. But listen, I’ve been staying late with my dad every day. Do you think you could bring the dress with you? I can change at the club or at the apartment. The surprise is less of a thing than you having gotten it for me in the first place. And, of course, taking me to the show! I have never been to Lincoln Center!”
He searched her eyes, seeing the source of her discomfort was coming to his apartment in the City with him. He wouldn’t push or it would all backfire. “Sure. Of course. I’ll bring it to you at the studio. So anyway, how did your week go?”
“Fine. Good. The girls—”
“I meant, more importantly, how is your father?”
“Of course, right. So they finally moved him out of the ICU two days ago. He’ll be under close watch, though, until next Friday. Then home.” She gave him an attempt at a smile, but her wide, fear-filled eyes betrayed her.
“Don’t you want your dad out of the hospital?”
“Honestly, it’s almost safer for him to stay in. It’s not cheaper…but it’s safer. My mom is a pushover, and my father is a damn steamroller. I’m worried he’ll be back to his old habits and get sick again. Or worse. Really what he needs is in-homecare, but…” She looked away. Definitely hiding her emotion, trying so hard to be strong, but she didn’t have to do that with him. She could crumble, and he’d catch her. He’d sweep her up, take her home, and devour her.
