by Abby Gale
Fortunately, before I froze or got even more anxious, a black SUV stopped in front of me and a guy got out from the driver’s seat.
“Hello, Miss Violet. I’m Zac, the club’s driver,” he said politely and extended his hand toward me for me to shake.
“Hi, Zac. Nice to meet you and please just call me just Violet,” I said, my teeth were chattering because of the cold. It was hard to talk.
“Okay, Violet. Before you freeze standing out there, let’s get you inside the car,” he said in a friendly tone. I happily jumped into the backseat of the car and purred when I felt the welcoming warmth. It felt like a blanket.
Zac got in the driver’s seat and smiled at me genuinely. Thank Goodness! He didn’t seem like the security guy at all.
A few seconds later, I heard Zac chuckle. Looking at him curiously, I tried to figure out what he thought was funny.
“Not talkative, hmm?” he asked.
“The security guy didn’t seem like much of a talker so I assumed you might not want me to talk, either,” I said smiling.
“Oh, you have met Frankenstein. Well, that explains why you look like a high school girl in detention.”
“Frankenstein? I think you’ve lost me there.”
“Frank. The security guy. Everyone calls him Frankenstein,” he explained and I started to laugh.
“Okay, I admit. He was…intimidating.”
“He has to be. He is the security guy and an ex-army. But don’t take it personally, he doesn’t talk to anyone,” he explained and I just nodded.
“Well, where do you need to go?” he asked casually. He seemed easy-going.
“Pike Street, please” I answered.
“Hmm, good place.”
I agreed with him. Feeling too tired to chat I have put my head to the cold glass of the window.
“You look exhausted.” Zac observed.
“I am exhausted. I was nervous if I would get the job—it wore me down,” I answered honestly.
Zac frowned at my answer and asked.
“Why do you want to have this job? No offense, I’m not judging. It’s just…I think, you could have found another job,” he was trying to sound nonchalant but his voice was rigid.
“I need a job. I didn’t work for a while so there are a lot of bills to pay but there is no other job that pays me this much. Also, I’ll work only at nights, here. I can find one more job during the day if I have to,” I answered.
He didn’t answer for a long while; there wasn’t anything to say that would change my mind, anyway. I let the silence grow until we have reached to my street. I only broke the silence to point out my building.
“Goodnight, Zac. Thank you,” I said and got out of the car. Zac stopped me by saying my name before I could get inside my apartment. He was frowning when I looked back at him.
“Be careful.” he said tensely and drove away.
Watching the car disappeared from my sight, I stayed in the cold for a while. I tried to understand if there was another meaning behind his words. If he knew something… but I couldn’t answer those questions swirling in my head and the cold quickly cut the way my thoughts were headed.
The same anxious feeling passed through me as I tried to quickly skim my surroundings. It was almost morning and there was no one in proximity but a few people who started their days earlier than the rest; they were jogging despite the cold.
Finally, I shook my head and took a deep breath, letting the cold air prickle my lungs with sharp tingles before I got inside the house. It helped me to ease my lingering paranoia.
The water started to turn cold after I had been sitting under it for a long time without a purpose. But I couldn’t move a muscle in order to get out from the shower. My feelings were keeping me stuck there—I wanted to stay under the pure water to erase my filth. I felt dirty, not because I was a prude, but because I enjoyed the night I had at the club. My reason to be there was far different from having fun but for some minutes I forgot about it. I couldn’t shake the guilt I felt. No matter what my real motive was, I selfishly enjoyed the time I spent there.
The dance was the only thing that had kept me going, the only thing I had allowed myself to do since I had last been in a club. It had been two years…two years of agony, darkness and loneliness. Tonight was an exception but tonight, I wasn’t there to have fun and get drunk. I had a reason, a purpose, for being in the club and dancing was the only way for me to reach my goal. Could I blame myself for having fun while dancing?
Cold water started to torture my body but also, it erased any further thoughts from haunting me and awakened the determination in me. I only spent one night in the club and I was letting it affect me. I should have stayed true to myself.
I knew why I was going to that club, I knew my reasons, I knew my motives…as long as I remembered those reasons, I could allow myself to be the old me again.
Maybe… just maybe, having fun and bringing out the old me might help me to be the best, command the attention I needed. I hoped being the best could eventually lead me to the one I was looking for.
I walked out of the shower, wrapped the purple towel around my body and another one to my hair without looking at the mirror. The steamy bathroom became suffocating or maybe it was the thoughts I had in here that put the weight on my chest—I quickly went to my comfortably warm bedroom.
After checking through the drawers on my study table with determination, I found what I was looking for. I took out the leather journal and sat on the bed, examining the blank pages in front of me. It would no longer be empty because I had been preparing myself for a year to write in it.
This journal would be my guide and my witness of the success or the failure. I shook the possibility of failure from my mind.
Finally, I took a deep breath and started to write…it was short but it meant a lot to me.
Day 1- 13th October
I got the job.
I’m working in the Club Nymph from this day on.
I am a pole dancer…
After writing these words down on the white page, I closed the journal and put it on the nightstand near my bed.
Lying down on the bed still wrapped in a towel I exhaled deeply and whispered to the empty room before closing my eyes.
“Goodnight, Angel.”
The next morning I woke up before my alarm went off, finally feeling active after years. I was determined, feeling responsible like I had a purpose in life and… I did have a purpose. As soon as I got out of bed I put my gym clothes on, black yoga pants and a dark violet sports bra with a black t-shirt that was loose on one shoulder…
As I ate a bowl of cereal, I started to plan my day. This week would be different than the last. I had a new job and I was one step closer to reach my goal than I was before. I felt strong but I was also nervous. I put the bowl in the dishwasher, noticed that it was the first time I didn’t mind eating cereals instead of happy family breakfasts.
Though I didn’t sleep more than six hours, it was eleven when I finally walked out of my door. Rosie came out of her apartment at the same time as me and I waved at her.
“Dawn? How are you, sweetie?” she said with her gentle voice.
Rosie was a classy woman with a thick British accent. She’d been living in America for fifty years after she moved to the States with her family when she was in her late teenage years. I was lucky to have her kindness and wise words in my life.
“Good morning, Rosie. I’m fine, heading to the gym. How are you?” I answered. But noticing she was wincing with her each step, I added.
“You still feel pain in your knees? Do you need anything?”
“Oh, my sweet girl. I’m fine I’m just not as young anymore,” she said smiling. I loved her smile. It was soothing and reminded me of my mother. When I moved into this apartment one and a half years ago, her smile and wise words were everything I needed. She never asked about my history, she just gathered that I was having a hard time…really; really hard time and she helped m
e. Every day, she made me see the light without even knowing it. Every day, she helped me find my purpose in my new life.
“You look great, Rosie. Never say anyone your real age,” I said back.
She smiled at me with her royal-like smile. “Go to your gym, Dawn. You’re being too nice to this old lady.”
“Okay. I’m going now. See you later, Rosie.”
“I’ll make you a pie, sweetie. Have fun at the gym,” she called out after me.
Waving my hand to her way, I started jogging.
Fifteen minutes later, I was in front of the gym and wasn’t feeling cold anymore. As soon as I stepped inside the building Gary, my trainer, spotted me. He was twenty-nine with olive skin, hazel eyes and a goatee. I had seen his pictures with curly hair from his early twenties, but he had a buzz-cut since the first time we met. Gary Tornado, my Krav Maga trainer, was a good-looking man but he was also dangerous and cold.
“Hey, Dawn! You’re early,” he greeted me while striking toward me in his usual predatory way. We knew each other for a year and because I spent my hours with him in the gym every day we were pretty close.
“Hey, Gary. I know I’m early. I have big news. Do you have any lessons now?”
“Nope. I have time and my first lesson is with you. Now, spill,” he said with his cool attitude.
“I got the job,” I said curtly when he stopped in front of me. As soon as I said the words Gary brought down his water bottle he was about to take a sip from.
I didn’t have to make any further comments about it. Gary Tornado was the only person who knew everything about my plans and my reasons. Although he was cold to everyone, he respected me enough to care for me like a brother.
He stared at me with a serious look on his face. I knew his mind was working in high gear. Waiting for him to finish his observation was hard. I fidgeted from one foot to another under his serious gaze.
“You promised to be careful about all this stuff. You remember that, don’t you?” he asked.
I knew he wasn’t finished with his inquisition so I answered only with a nod.
“This is not a game, Dawn. It will get more dangerous every day. I’ll keep training you, but only if you promise me to be careful about everything and to think wisely before your each move,” he said. His gaze was pinning me in place, there was no mistake in the severe tone of his words.
“Do you remember the first time I came here? I wasn’t strong then. You said I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. You were right. I wasn’t ready, then. I thought I was but I wasn’t. Now…After one year of training and after the first night I’ve spent in the club…I know what I am about to get myself into. I am ready for it,” I said with determination.
He observed me for a while then nodded.
“Okay, Dawn. This is only the beginning of everything that awaits you. We’ll practice even harder. Are you ready?” he asked.
Knowing he wasn’t asking me this just for our training, I bit my bottom lip and considered his question. I pondered deeply until I was sure of my answer.
I kept his gaze and gave him my answer.
“I’m ready.”
֎
“You can have the upper hand easily if you know where to hit, Dawn. You may even kill the person but we’re not killers, don’t forget it.” Gary told me and placed the fake human figure in the middle of the platform.
“I wouldn’t mind killing the asshole that had something to do with Angel’s absence,” I murmured.
“Revenge causes you to lose control. I need you to be in control. Stop it. Focus on Angel. Focus on survival. But never on revenge. Focus on something strong but simple.” Gary told me sternly. His gaze dared me to disagree with him but I knew better. I kept my mouth shut and just nodded.
“You need to understand your surroundings, first. Just a small detail might give you the power you need. Open your eyes to everything,” he said while walking around the fake-human. It looked scary and ugly.
Gary walked to the corner of the platform and grabbed a stick. He touched his own foot with it, just the middle.
“If you push your heel with enough strength, it will distract your enemy and will give you enough time to think,” he said.
He nodded his head toward the fake-human and said, “Try it.”
It was funny but I did as I was told.
“Harder.” Gary instructed. I did the same thing until he was pleased with my effort.
“Okay…another place is the groin but you already know that. Also, the iliums. Both sides of the abdomen. Now, hit it with full force,” he instructed.
“Gary, what if I wouldn’t have enough strength to hit? I need a place more sensitive,” I said while hitting the sides of the body again and again.
“I know. We’ll get to those places. Think about it as training, use your strength and when you’re exhausted I’ll show you the most sensitive yet fatal places. Now, hit. For every wrong move, you’ll fight with me. Hit.” Gary demanded sternly and that was what I did for hours.
I hit.
Again.
Harder.
After a painful lesson with Gary, I headed back home. He really didn’t show me any mercy. My muscles were in pain, my skin was so sensitive because of the hard practice but thankfully my tanned skin would hide any possible bruises.
The only thing I could think about was jumping to my bed when I came home but no matter how tempting the idea was I headed to the shower. Cascading warm water and in-shower body lotion were just what I needed to relax my muscles. Feeling so much better, stronger and in control, I left the bathroom.
I had to go back to the club in a few hours. This would be the first workday for me there and I wanted to do a rehearsal for tonight. I was nervous. Not only because I would do my first rehearsal for the night but also I would meet the people working there. The waitresses, other dancers…all my coworkers and more.
I put on leggings, sneakers and a t-shirt. I didn’t think I needed anything fancier than that. I would change into my dance outfit anyway. These were the most comfortable clothes I could wear while doing my rehearsal. It was still too early to go to the club, though.
For a few hours, I just wanted to relax and enjoy the time in my home. This house had embraced my loneliness and cries since I moved in. But now, I wanted to feel comfortable after a long time. I went to the kitchen to prepare my “energy-bomb” as Gary called it. It was a mixture of fruits, celery, spinach and peppermint. I wasn’t a fan of it but Gary insisted that I needed the energy. So, twice a week I drank it with silent curses.
I brought my “grocery-bomb”, this was the name I called that thing, with me to the living room and grabbed the book I’d been reading recently. It provided an escape from my real life into my deepest, secret fantasies. Reading about the female character in a loving passionate relationship with two men at the same time, made my heart skip a beat or two, making my skin prickle with sweat and goosebumps as I wished my own darkest desires would come true.
I almost dropped my kindle when the disturbing tone of my alarm interrupted my reading. I always got lost in the book, losing the track of time; setting the alarm was the only way to guarantee that I wouldn’t be late. There was nothing to do for the frustration I felt because I had to stop reading.
Closing the kindle with a long exhale, I grabbed my purse, coat and left my apartment just after a few last touches to my hair.
I considered the idea of buying a car as I waited for the bus in the cold. During the summer, I would often use a bicycle, enjoying the warm summer air on my skin and feeling free. But in winters, the idea wasn’t as appealing as it used to be.
I shivered again, feeling the cold air like a whiplash on my face. I sighed deeply in relief when the bus finally came to take me to my destination...to my destiny.
After two blocks of walking from the bus station, I finally arrived at the club. The Club Nymph.
Inside the club, everything looked and felt the same. I knew it wouldn’t chang
e over a night but I assumed in the late lights of the day it would maybe look different. More ordinary maybe or more like the other bars. But Club Nymph was nothing like the bars I used to go to. It was exotic, sensual and it screamed sex.
I thought to myself how the name perfectly depicted the true meaning of it – like the sirens in Greek Mythology would lure their victims, we were calling our customers to see us perform, we were luring them with our bodies and sex. We were nymphs in the look, sexual spirits, but we were sirens deep down in our souls.
“Violet!” The voice that caught my attention wasn’t familiar.
I turned my gaze to the girl who was coming toward me. She was shorter than me with alabaster skin, raven black hair, and green eyes. She was covered in leather from head to toe. Short-tight-black leather skirt, black leather bustier, and knee length black boots. She looked like a gothic pixie.
“I knew it was you. Yesterday, I saw you on the stage and with that hair of yours, it’s hard to miss you,” she said smiling. Then, I noticed the piercing on her bottom lip. I wasn’t fan of piercings for myself but it looked so good on her.
“Umm, hi,” I said unsure of what to do exactly.
She hit her forehead with the base of her hand.
“I’m sorry I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Harley Davidson,” she said and I felt my expression wary.
“Harley Davidson?” I asked smiling.
“Uggh, don’t tell me. This is the usual reaction I get. That’s why I don’t use any nickname in the club like others. The name itself is enough of a stunner. My dad is a fan of Harley Davidson, I’m not sure if it was because of his last name Davidson. Anyway…Since his last name is Davidson, he decided to name me Harley, but this is not the only connection between me and Harley, trust me,” she explained with rolling her eyes.
