Midnight Ballerina

by Cori Williams

“Oh, aren’t you just a doll? I’m Vanessa. Don’t worry,” she whispered into my ear, “they’re not as scary as they look. Well, most of ‘em.”

  Vanessa introduced me to each of the girls, explaining that there were a few that were currently on stage, so I would meet them later. She gave me a short tour of the back rooms, where I could change, and told me what door to use if I needed a quick smoke break. Apparently, it was a popular hangout for the employees all night, but not one that I needed to use since I didn’t plan on picking up the habit.

  “I don’t smoke either,” she explained with a bright smile, “so welcome to the club, I think we’re the only two. I need to get out there. Do you need help with anything else?”

  I looked down at my tiny shorts that I’d paired with an equally tiny shirt, which barely contained my boobs. I never realized my boobs could actually look so big. “Um…well, what about makeup? I really don’t wear any but it looks like everyone here kind of….”

  “Slathers it on?” Vanessa replied with a grin. “It helps on stage with the lights and everything. But you don’t need to go crazy, just wear what makes you feel good. Do you have anything in your bag?” I nodded my head and handed over the bag, which she rifled through for a few minutes before pulling out a single tube of bright red lip gloss. I wasn’t even sure where it came from in the first place. It was something Amelia probably left in my bathroom after a night of getting ready at my apartment before going out. “Here, this will look perfect with your coloring. Other than that, I think you’re good. Let me guess? Randy hired you because of your whole innocent look. Am I right?”

  “I guess.” I shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve never really thought of myself that way, but if it makes me money, I’ll roll with it.”

  She giggled loudly. “That’s the spirit. Oh, here’s Bianca, the head server. She’ll tell you what exactly you need to do and what tables you’re in charge of.” She gestured to a tall girl with caramel-colored skin and short brown hair, a rainbow of chunky streaks running through it. She was headed my direction, glaring. “Good luck with that one,” Vanessa added before scurrying toward the stage.

  “So you must be Monroe?” She spit out my name like it left a bad taste in her mouth. “Let’s get a few things straight. I’m not here to babysit you, so do your job and do it right. If you have a problem with a customer, tell one of the bouncers, not me. I have my own tables to worry about. Randy may have hired you, but I can still fire you, so don’t screw up. Got it?”

  “Got it,” I replied, following after her down a narrow hallway that led through a small kitchen and into the bar area. My eyes took a minute to adjust to the dark club, my ears overwhelmed by the roar of the noise blaring from the speakers combined with everyone trying to talk over each other. Bianca didn’t stop to wait for me, and though I’d just met her, I didn’t really expect her to.

  “Okay, you have that area over there,” she explained, indicating a section near the stage that looked to be the most crowded. It seemed like she was trying to make me fail on my first night by throwing me into the biggest pack of wolves possible. Well, I would just have to prove her wrong. I was always a hard worker, no matter what the job, and this was no different. “Take that tray and I’ll follow you over to get you started.” She pointed to a tray loaded down with all sorts of different drinks, half of which I didn’t recognize—not a good sign—but I scooped it up, using the awesome balancing skills I acquired working at a small diner back home.

  Bianca handed out each drink when we got there, making small talk with the group of guys seated at the table. There was an assortment of them and surprisingly, none of them looked all that skeezy. I assumed every guy that showed up to a strip club had to be some loser, looking for a good time and naked girls to throw dollar bills at, but these guys were dressed for a business meeting. It was a little strange.

  When there were three drinks left, Bianca began handing me the remaining ones, pointing to each owner of the drink and offering them a flirty smile, which they all appeared to ignore. “And that one goes to him. I have my tables to get to, you’re on your own.”

  I meant to say thanks just as I reached out with the last guy’s drink, but the word didn’t leave my mouth because suddenly, something nudged my elbow. I glanced to my side, catching a glimpse of Bianca smirking triumphantly before turning in the other direction. Everything went in slow motion from there. The drink that was in my hand, quickly left it, and the contents flew into the air, landing on the owner of the drink’s lap, drop by drop. My mouth fell open as his hands loudly smacked down on the table, his back pushing against the booth. Freaking awesome. And somehow I knew Bianca didn’t just accidentally “bump” into me.

  “I am so sorry!” I pressed one hand to my mouth, frantically scanning the table until my eyes landed on a pile of those tiny cocktail napkins. They would have to do. I quickly scooped them up and rushed to dry the spilled drink, dabbing at the soaked material of his pants. I froze for just a second when he breathed in sharply close to my ear, the warm air whooshing back out to slightly tickle my cheek, causing me to visibly shiver and embarrass myself even more. I didn’t realize exactly where my hands were until his fingers wrapped around my wrist, brushing against the sensitive skin, which sent a spark up the length of my arm and I jumped in place. Several of the guys seated at the table snorted, making my cheeks burn at the thought of what it looked like I was trying to do.

  “It’s all right.” Oh my goodness. The words rolled off his tongue smoothly, so simple, yet tiny goosebumps prickled across my whole body. He had a full-blown, deep, southern accent. The kind that could make any girl’s panties wet at just the sound. Amelia always teased me when I told her I was jealous of her drawl. It wasn’t as noticeable and she was convinced she didn’t even have one, but I could tell a local from the transplanted students so easily.

  I yanked my tingling hands away, pushing at my hair as I straightened myself back up and met a pair of warm brown eyes that focused intently on me. His heated gaze turning me hot and cold all at the same time, as I stared back at him in utter fascination. I hadn’t noticed him before when Bianca handed out the other drinks because I was too busy paying attention to what everyone was drinking. Still, I don’t know how I missed him. I felt this pull toward him, the rest of the guys seated at the table fading into the background.

  His dark brown hair was pushed away from his forehead, revealing eyes that had my stomach doing flip-flops while simultaneously sending my heartbeat skyrocketing. His deep tan made his teeth almost blindingly white, but I noticed a few on the bottom were slightly crooked, making him seem just a little less perfect. One leg stuck out from underneath the table, like there wasn’t enough room for him, so I could tell he was tall, and he looked to be pretty fit underneath his expensive looking suit, tailored to fit his body very nicely. My eyes dropped to his broad chest, his dress shirt fit oh-so-snugly. Yes, very nice indeed. Luckily, I resisted the urge to fan myself from the sudden heat wave this man was throwing in my direction, probably without even knowing it.

  I don’t know why I let myself get so worked up. He wasn’t really my type, more like Amelia’s; she could totally get a guy like him, not me.

  But back to the situation at hand. Spilling a drink on a customer my first night was not a good start. I needed to figure out some way to make sure that he didn’t complain about the horrible new waitress. First thing’s first, I had to shut my gaping mouth; I looked like a freaking moron. I cleared my throat, swallowing down the excessive saliva that had pooled from staring at the man in front of me, thankfully it hadn’t dripped out of my mouth and caused me to drool all over him.

  “I’ll get you a new drink right away. I’m so sorry. Tonight’s my first night and my fingers must’ve slipped because I’m so unbelievably nervous. I’m sure you know what I mean. Well, probably not. I bet you never get nervous. Why would you?” He squinted his eyes slightly, like he was trying to figure out my babble. Most of the time I didn’t even unders
tand what I was saying when I started rambling. I took a deep breath and tried to focus. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  “How ‘bout I tell you what I was drinking in the first place?” he suggested with a smirk and I blushed even harder, feeling like a complete idiot. He ordered a Jack Daniels on the rocks before turning his attention back to the men at the table, dismissing me, which was completely fine. The sooner he forgot about me and that whole situation, the better. I quickly headed to the bar and introduced myself to the bartender, who was at least helpful.

  After delivering his new drink accident-free, I greeted the rest of the tables in my section, finding that nobody needed anything. So, I headed toward the back for a quick breather. I collapsed onto one of the couches and let out a loud sigh as I pressed my fingertips into my eyes. My feet already ached and the night had just begun. I felt the seat next to me sink in and I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to open my eyes.

  “How’s it going out there, sweetie?”

  Relief flooded my body that it was Vanessa, that is, until I realized my new frenemy Bianca was sitting directly across from me with a very satisfied look on her face.

  “Not too great,” I answered, my eyes trained on Bianca. I wasn’t going to let her push me around. “Somehow I managed to spill a drink on my first customer.”

  “Oh.” Vanessa looked back and forth between Bianca and me, obviously feeling the tension in the room. “Well, it happens. Don’t sweat it.”

  Bianca shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t do it on purpose. It just happened to be Mr. Buchanan that the drink landed on. Oopsie.” Her evil smile said otherwise and I just didn’t get why she already disliked me.

  Vanessa’s eyes widened. “Mr. Buchanan? You spilled a drink on him?”

  “I guess. We didn’t really introduce ourselves. Well, my hand introduced itself to the front of his pants.” My cheeks burned at the memory. I couldn’t believe I basically gave the guy a hand job without even realizing it. He probably thought I was doing it on purpose, trying to get a good tip or something. I was so not that type of girl.

  “Oh my goodness.” Vanessa slapped her hand over her mouth and Bianca giggled obnoxiously loud. For the first time in my life, I felt like bitch slapping someone.

  “Who’s Mr. Buchanan? Is he a regular customer or something?”

  “Oh no, honey,” Bianca answered between laughs. “He owns the place.”

  “What?” My stomach twisted into knots. One, because of how malicious Bianca was after just meeting me. Why would she try to humiliate me like that? I didn’t do anything to her. This was one of the reasons I didn’t have many girlfriends growing up. Back home, I mainly hung out with Carter. Amelia was the first female best friend that I ever had and at first, I was a little hesitant to hang out with her. From my experience, girls could be two-faced and liked drama. I lucked out with Amelia because she didn’t show signs of either.

  And two, because I spilled a drink on the owner. Awesome.

  “Don’t worry about it. He’s barely ever here and when he is, he stays in his office for most of the night.” Vanessa patted me on the back. “Mr. Buchanan isn’t so bad, he’s just a little intense sometimes and that comes off as scary to some of the girls, especially since he can have a bit of temper sometimes. But, he has a soft side.”

  Bianca snorted loudly. “Sure he does, try to remember that when’s he chewing your ass out for showing up a minute late or not getting to your tables quick enough.” She made a face and I had a feeling that her getting yelled at was probably her own fault. She didn’t seem like she’d win employee of the month anytime soon, and that was just my observation from working with her for an hour.

  “So, anyway, new girl. What’s your story? Single mom?” She flicked her eyes to Vanessa, who gave me a small smile. Maybe that’s why she seemed to be a little more nurturing than all of the other employees I met so far. “Daddy issues? Attention seeker? Just for the thrill of it?” She looked like she had more to add to the list and it made me wonder what she was—If I had to guess, she liked the attention.

  “I’m a student, just looking to make some money to pay the bills.”

  “Oh, that’s original. College student turned stripper. Never heard that one before. I think our girl Honey has been paying her way through school for ten years now, but I don’t think she’s gone to a class in two.” Bianca stood up, throwing me an icy glare. “Well, good luck with that. You probably won’t last long here anyway. I can tell you’re not made out for this type of place.”

  She left the room, slamming the door shut, and I collapsed back onto the couch. Great. Well, I would just have to do my very best and see what happened. I could continue to look for a new job during the day when I didn’t have class and hopefully I could get caught up on the pile of bills that had been staring at me for the past month, untouched.

  “I thought Randy was the owner,” I grumbled aloud and Vanessa giggled.

  “No, Randy’s just the manager, and he’s a pretty good guy most of the time. Mr. Buchanan really is nice, he’s just very focused and not much of a talker. He doesn’t take shit from anyone either, which is smart, and probably why he’s so successful. Runs all of his businesses that way.”

  “Businesses?”

  “Yup.” She popped up off the couch and grabbed my hand. “He started out as a backwoods country boy that didn’t even have two nickels to rub together, and made a name for himself.” She opened the door, pushing gently on my back. “C’mon, you better get back out there and check on your tables. Don’t give Mr. Buchanan a reason to actually complain.”

  “Thanks, Vanessa.”

  She smiled as she straightened the sheer bra that she was wearing, pushing her boobs up so they were just beginning to spill out of the top. “No problem. Oh, and Randy said something about me taking you under my wing. Maybe with some pole dancing lessons?” She quirked one eyebrow and my stomach rolled once again. By the time the night was over, I was probably going to have several ulcers. “Are you really thinking about getting up on the stage?”

  “Um…I guess. I’ve danced ballet since I was little. Randy thought that would be helpful, but since I didn’t have any other experience, he started me off waitressing. I didn’t think it would happen so soon.” I really needed to get on the ball about looking for another job. Quickly.

  “Hmm…well, we can meet up sometime during the day and practice if you want then. Now, chin up and get back on out there.”

  I pasted a smile on my face and did exactly as Vanessa suggested. I wasn’t going to let Bianca screw the night up for me, or this job.

  MY FIRST NIGHT working at the club was overwhelming. The next few nights that I was scheduled definitely weren’t as bad. I didn’t spot Mr. Buchanan again either, so that was a plus since I probably would’ve further embarrassed myself in front of him. Most of the girls seemed friendly enough, well, except for Bianca. I just don’t think she liked people in general, unless they were packing something between their legs. Then she was all over that shit. She saw everything as a competition.

  Whatever.

  I tried not to worry about her, especially since I was making decent money. More than decent, really. Just after a few days of working, I had almost completely caught up on bills and still managed to have a little left over. It felt good to have that weight lifted off of my chest. But the nerves were starting to set back in. I have no idea how I’d gone this long without having an anxiety attack, considering the way I let myself get worked up.

  It was time for my lessons with Vanessa.

  I’d only been working at the club for a week, but I guess Randy wanted her to show me all of her stripper moves. That made the actuality of me getting up on that stage even more real, and I didn’t like the thought. I guess if I had to have anyone teach me, it would be Vanessa. She was a sweetheart and I got along with her so well, and that woman owned that freaking pole.

  When I served drinks, I tried to avoid the stage because I wasn’t com
pletely comfortable watching practically naked women dance around, men drooling all over them, but sometimes, I couldn’t look away. The club scene was definitely different from the dancing world I grew up in, but it was still dancing and that’s what I loved. It was beautiful and told a story, especially when Vanessa was up there; she put on a show. Her body and the way it moved were insane. I had never seen anything like it, even after years spent studying professionals and amateurs alike. Vanessa was a born dancer and most definitely needed to put her talents to better use. But I was trying not to judge. From the brief times that we got to talk to each other during breaks, I learned that she was in fact a single mom and her daughter was her world. Anyone could tell that by the way her face lit up whenever she talked about her.

  A knock at the door stopped me from overthinking the situation, and I yelled down the hall that it was open, knowing it was Amelia.

  “Roe, Roe,” she called from the living room, her voice coming closer as she walked down the short hallway leading to my bedroom. “There you are.” She smiled brightly, pushing a plate full of cookies into my hands.

  “Another one of your creations?” I cautiously pulled back the plastic wrap, uncovering at least two-dozen cookies. Amelia loved to bake, it was her biggest passion in life; she said it was the southern girl in her. I think she was the only one to ever use the oven at the sorority house, and she didn’t even live there. I knew that her dream was to go to a culinary school, but her mom wasn’t having it, being a chef was not a respectable career, according to her. So, Amelia did as her mom said and instead enrolled in college, choosing secondary education as her major, even though she hated it. In a way, I was glad that she came here because we wouldn’t have met otherwise, but at the same time, I was sad for her. She was old enough to decide how to live her life.

  “I think you’re going to love these. I made them especially with you in mind.” Sometimes Amelia got a little too creative when it came to her recipes, but I was always her guinea pig, and smiled whenever I tried something new—even if it was the craziest combination.