The President and the Starlet: A Forbidden Romance

by Cassandra Dee

  “Sure, sweet’ums,” he said casually again. “But if I reduce the amount, what do I get?”

  I was flabbergasted.

  “I thought you said it wasn’t up to you?” came my confused voice. “That you had no decision-making power over the amount?”

  Chester’s expression grew crafty then. I could almost see him sensing an opportunity and tapping his fingers together while hissing, “My Precious.”

  “Well, I have a little wiggle room,” he said suggestively. “Like maybe if you wiggle for a me a bit, I’ll reduce it fifty bucks.”

  I stared at him.

  “I’m sorry?” I asked with a dumbfounded expression on my face. “Wiggle what?” Was this some sort of New York-ese that I wasn’t understanding again?

  Chester rolled his eyes like I was a country bumpkin wearing overalls with a piece of straw stuck through my teeth.

  “You know, shake da bom-bom,” he said, jiggling a bit in his chair in demonstration. “Do a little dance. Make me want it.”

  And the dam burst in my mind then. Make it more like the great floodwaters rushed over my consciousness, making me feel horrified, shocked, and disgusted all at once. Chester expected me to dance for him, and in return he’d lower my rent? Oh god, no. This was like out of some sick Law & Order episode where a ruthless predator preys upon the young girl new to the city.

  But fortunately, I’ve seen a lot of episodes of Law & Order, not to mention Blue Bloods and old episodes of Cops. So I know when things aren’t kosher and I stared daggers at my new landlord.

  “Absolutely not,” was my flat declaration, hands on hips. “No way.”

  Chester shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

  “Suit yourself,” he said, already flipping his laptop open once again. “But be sure to have your money ready tomorrow at noon. I’ll expect it hand delivered to this office,” he threw out there, stabbing a button on his keyboard. “In cash.”

  And to my utter disgust, a woman’s moans filled the shabby office with lots of breathy “Unnh, unnh’s” and “Yeah, right there’s!” I shuddered before beating a hasty retreat.

  “I’ll have the money for you,” I called once I was safely into the hallway. “Don’t you worry!”

  But Chester didn’t even bother to look up, his eyes already fixed on the screen hungrily. And with another shudder, I slammed the door before bolting up the stairs back up to my apartment.

  Oh god. What was I going to do? I certainly wouldn’t do a striptease for my new landlord because it was disgusting not to mention probably illegal. But I needed money, and unfortunately, there were no ready sources at hand. My job at the library didn’t start until next week, and besides, I wouldn’t receive my first paycheck for two weeks after that. So caught in a quandary, I let myself back into the apartment and looked at my stuff scattered around the shabby place. Was my first day actually going to be my last? And with a heavy heart, I sat down on an unopened cardboard box to think.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Susie

  My eyes took in the bright neon sign.

  The Pink Flamingo, it screamed. And just to be clear, the words Girls! Girls! Girls! flashed below an outline of a flamingo, in case you thought they were actually a pet store.

  This isn’t where I want to be, but it’s where I’ve ended up. Because after the horrible encounters with Chester and Cheryl, I dialed up my best friend from back home, Mary-Kate.

  “Heya Suse,” my buddy burbled. “You just caught me baking a pie. You know there was a bonanza of apples this season, and after we got back from the orchard, we had so many bags that it was crazy. But when God gives you apples, make apple pie!” she squealed happily. “Get down, Buster! I said, get down! No apple pie for you,” she scolded.

  I smiled and my heart flipped over a bit. Suddenly, homesickness washed over me, and my mouth curled downwards involuntarily.

  “Mary-Kate,” I said with a waver to my voice. “I want to come back.”

  “Down, Buster!” called my friend again. “No pastry dough for you either. Down, down!”

  I choked back a silent sob because I could see what was happening in my mind’s eye. Mary-Kate was engaged to her high school boyfriend Darnell even before we graduated. And two days after we got our diplomas, Mary and Darnell tied the knot at her parents’ house with all of us watching. It was really sweet, actually. My friend’s dream is to be a homemaker, and she was happily ensconced in her kitchen now with her dog and the yummy smells of home-cooking. It was a far cry from where I found myself, alone and miserable in a shabby apartment. A painful lump rose in my throat.

  But Mary-Kate and I have been friends since first grade, and she could sense my distress from thousands of miles away.

  “Why, what’s wrong, Suse?” she asked, the snuffling of Buster still audible in the background. “What’s got you down? This is your first day in the city. It can’t be that bad.”

  But I swallowed again painfully, tears springing to my eyes.

  “It is that bad,” I choked over the phone. “The landlord wants an extra thousand dollars in rent, and I don’t have it.”

  “What?” asked Mary-Kate disbelievingly. “Didn’t you already pay that company a thousand bucks upfront? Now they want even more, on top of that?”

  I nodded again even though she couldn’t see.

  “Yeah, it’s this weird thing called key money,” I said pitifully. “And I have to have it by tomorrow afternoon.”

  I could almost hear my friend’s thoughts. I’m so glad I never wanted to go to the big city. I’m so glad that it’s Susie having these problems, and not me.

  But Mary-Kate is kind and would never voice feelings like that aloud. So my buddy shuffled into the bathroom and closed the door, locking Buster outside.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked in a hushed voice.

  A small sob escaped from my throat again.

  “I don’t know,” was my croaky reply. “I don’t have the money. Maybe I should just get on a Greyhound and come home now. It’s what I deserve, isn’t it?” I asked ruefully through the tears.

  Because the good citizens of Littleton would laugh if I came back so soon with my tail between my legs. After all, I was the golden girl of the local high school. Not only did I graduate with straight A’s, but I was also elected Homecoming Queen and Class Vice President. I didn’t ask for these things, believe it or not. They just happened to me because I was there.

  But success breeds jealousy, no matter where you are. So if I came home licking my wounds and looking worse for the wear, people would coo with sympathy but more than a few bitches would also be secretly happy. Looks like someone got taken down a couple notches, they’d whisper. Seems that someone wasn’t able to make it in the big city, hmmm?

  I didn’t want that to happen, especially not so soon after leaving. But at the same time, what were my options? It was better to go back home than to stay at a homeless shelter or out on the streets.

  But fortunately, Mary-Kate still had her wits about her.

  “How about your brother Oscar?” she suggested. “Wasn’t he living somewhere out there too?”

  I sighed.

  “I haven’t seen Oscar in years. In fact, no one has seen Oscar in years. You know that once he left Littleton, it was see ya, peace out. He wanted nothing to do with us then or now.”

  Because it was true. While I rebelled against our small-town upbringing by excelling, Oscar chose a different path. My older brother became a delinquent, and the minute he turned eighteen, he high-tailed it out of the Midwest and disappeared to parts unknown.

  But there was no way I could turn to Oscar because even if he had the money, I didn’t know what his phone number was. In fact, I wasn’t sure even if my brother would want to hear from me, given the man’s hostility towards our family. So I shook my head regretfully.

  “No, unfortunately, Oscar’s a no-go,” was my soft voice. “I heard he’s in Brooklyn, so thanks for the thought, but I can’t rely o
n him.”

  Mary-Kate’s voice was immediately contrite.

  “I’m sorry Susie,” she said. “I didn’t mean to stir up bad memories.”

  “No, it’s okay,” was my slow reply. “It’s just that Oscar’s not in any of our lives anymore, and so that one’s a dead end. Maybe I should just go on-line and buy my bus ticket now,” came my small voice. “After all, if I wait until the last minute, it’ll only be more expensive.”

  But Mary-Kate could hear the pain in my voice and she responded. Pausing for a moment, the woman collected her thoughts before speaking in a hushed voice.

  “You know, Susie, there’s something you could do.”

  I sighed, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I knew what Mary-Kate was going to suggest. She was going to say something like “throw a bake sale” or “put a sign up outside asking for help.” Sometimes the innocence of my hometown friends got to me too, and I could see why my older brother left the moment he was able.

  “What is it?” I sighed, balancing myself precariously on the tub ledge. “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade right? Or with apples in your case,” I said.

  But Mary-Kate didn’t squeal and burble the way she usually does. Instead, my friend’s voice dropped even lower as if she were afraid of someone hearing, despite the fact that she was currently locked in her bathroom with only the dog outside.

  “Do you remember Candy Harworth from the next town over? The one who always wore those skanky clothes and supposedly got pregnant from dating that fifty year-old guy?”

  I nodded although MK couldn’t see.

  “Sure, I remember Candy,” I said in a puzzled voice. “Why? What about her?”

  “Well, don’t you wonder where her money came from?” asked MK in a near-whisper. “She always wore leather pants and had nice jewelry. Not costume jewelry,” emphasized my buddy. “Fine jewelry. Like gold and diamonds.”

  My brows furrowed.

  “But she was dating that fifty year-old guy, like you said,” I spoke slowly. “Didn’t he buy them for her?”

  I could almost hear MK shaking her head.

  “No, that guy has nothing,” she said in a low voice. “In fact, she was supporting him by dancing at the Red Raccoon.”

  I almost guffawed.

  “You can’t be serious. The Red Raccoon? That seedy place across the tracks with sawdust on the floors?”

  But MK wasn’t put off.

  “Yeah, that place exactly,” she said in a scandalized voice. “But I hear the tips are good. Like real good, making it rain good.”

  But I didn’t understand why my friend was telling this.

  “Unfortunately, I can’t dance at the Red Raccoon,” came my slow reply, “I’m out here on the East Coast. Unless you mean ….”

  MK leapt in then.

  “That’s exactly what I mean,” she said in a low, firm voice. “You have to do what you have to do, and it’s not like it’ll be a permanent thing, Susie. I know you. You’re smart, talented and beautiful. You’re just stuck in a jam right now. So find a place like the Red Raccoon and dance there for a night. Just once. And then take the cash, pay whatever you need to pay, and never show your face again. It’s fine,” she said firmly. “It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person or anything.”

  No words came for a moment.

  “No, it’s not a morality thing,” I said slowly. “It’s just I never thought I’d be dancing, you know?” The word “dancing” came out a little choked, like it was a frog stuck in my throat. But “dancing” seemed more palatable than the word “stripping,” which was what we were really talking about.

  But MK has been my staunch supporter since we were six years old, and she held firm.

  “Again, Suse, this isn’t you, not really. It’s just that you’re in a tough situation, and have to make do with what you have. And why not?” she urged. “You’re in great shape and almost won the cheerleading championships for us last year, so you’re coordinated too. Just do it for one night,” she said, “and then take the money and go. Why not?” she repeated. “What do you have to lose?”

  I wanted to say something along the lines of dignity, honor, and pride, but those words got stuck in my throat. So I nodded, face flushing and my fingers trembling a bit.

  “I’ll think about it,” came my tense reply. “There has to be a better way.”

  But MK wouldn’t let me off the phone so fast.

  “Suse, you have to do it for the women of Littleton,” she urged. “You’re the only one of us who’s made it out of this place. Of course, there are folks like me who don’t want to leave,” she added, “but you’re a role model for so many girls here. You made it possible for other women to think that maybe they can have careers and lives outside of the home. So don’t give up so soon!” she urged. “Do it for us, Suse, and not just you.”

  I nodded, murmuring a few vague promises before hanging up. Because the way MK made it sound, I was a hero for the new wave of girls coming up in Littleton. With the #MeToo movement, a lot of females wanted to find their way out of our rust-belt hometown what with its declining blue-collar manufacturing base. So what message would it send if I came home with nothing to show? Beaten down and tired after only a few days in the cosmopolitan city?

  And with that, I resolved to give dancing a go. After all, like MK said, no one would ever have to know. I’d do it for one night, make my money, and then leave with this chapter shuttered forever behind me. So taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and began rummaging around for my laptop. I’m a modern, resourceful woman … and the heartless Chesters and Cheryls of the world weren’t going to keep me down.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Susie

  Six months later …

  “Annnnnd here she is, gentlemen, our very own Pearl Evanescence!”

  I strode out onto the stage, shimmying and smiling, shaking my bottom for what it was worth. The male crowd erupted into cheers, guys stamping their feet as the feathers on my head wiggled. In fact, every part of me was wiggling, come to think of it.

  For sure, this isn’t what Mary-Kate had in mind when she said it would only be a one-time thing. Because that first night, I made my way to The Pink Flamingo with a lot of fear, trembling beneath my thin trenchcoat.

  “Um, I was wondering if you had Amateur Night tonight?” I asked in a whisper, cheeks flushing red. Good thing it was so dark that no one could see. The manager barely glanced my way.

  “Sure, just wait until they announce it,” he said, already looking off disinterestedly into the crowd. “Angel, over there,” he said, pointing to two guys who’d just walked in. And immediately, the girl named Angel strutted their way, a welcoming smile wreathing her lips.

  I watched, mouth agog, as she led the men over to the bar by their ties, striding along sassily while swinging her hips. I was nothing like Angel. Nothing at all. But the thing is that even across the room, I could see that the girl had dozens of bills tucked into her g-string, and if I wasn’t mistaken, the new guys were pulling out their wallets even now.

  So I swallowed hard, turning back to face the stage. Could I do it? Could I, Miss Straight A Student, go onstage and dance for money?

  And evidently, anything is possible when you need to make rent. Because I strutted my stuff, and the heavens opened, money pouring down from the clouds. It wasn’t easy. It’s not like I’m a natural stripper, who immediately began undulating to the music with hot lights bathing my curves. But I did well enough, and sure enough by the end of my set, I had five hundred bucks in cold, hard cash.

  “Yo,” hissed the manager, beckoning to me. I was just about to go, my trench coat already cinched tight around my waist. “So you wanna come by and do another set tomorrow night?” he asked.

  “Is it Amateur Night again?” I wondered in a small voice. “I thought it was only Wednesdays.”

  The manager, who’s nametag read Nero, shook his head and rolled his eyes.

  “No, it’s not Amateur Night tom
orrow,” he snorted with exasperation. “I meant as one of our regular girls this time. You know, one set every hour. You dance, you twirl, and boom! You get paid.”

  I just looked at him for a moment, mouth open. This was only supposed to be a one-time thing, so I was about to say no. But then Chester’s face appeared before my eyes.

  “Cash,” he sneered. “I’ll need it by tomorrow afternoon.”

  Oh god. I only had five hundred right now, and I was supposed to come up with a thousand. Maybe, just maybe, I could make it to the four figure mark if Chester gave me another day. So I nodded my head quickly.

  “Sure, I’d be happy to come again,” was my quick reply. “Just let me know when.”

  And one night led to another, and then another, and finally, I I became a regular girl at the Pink Flamingo. It’s no better than the Red Raccoon back home, to be honest. The Flamingo is a seedy dive in Midtown Manhattan where mid-level managers in baggy suits come to while away their time and dollars. We don’t get high rollers who spend thousands or tens of thousands in one night. Instead, we get guys who like to throw back their drinks while tipping ones and fives.

  But I’m not complaining because it’s the only way I can get by in Manhattan. I work as a librarian during the day, putting in my hours at the New Academy’s circulation desk. But my salary’s barely enough to make ends meet. In fact, I looked it up and I qualify for public assistance and food stamps, given the high cost of living here. But that’s going too far. I’m an able-bodied adult who can work, so instead, I dance at the Pink Flamingo now to make sure there’s money for rent, food, and electricity.

  Plus, it’s not so bad. A job is a job after all, and there aren’t many places that have flexible schedules like the Pink Flamingo. For example, if I can’t do Tuesdays, it’s simple to switch to a Wednesday or Thursday. They even let me do weekends sometimes, although the girls who dance then are territorial, since those are the nights that make the most money.

  And now, after six months in the city, I’ve settled into a groove of a sort. I go to my desk job during the day, wearing conservative brown tweed skirts and button-up blouses. Dutifully, I help people find reference materials and sort returns into their different stacks. And then at night, I’m a stripper called “Pearl Evanescence” who shakes her bom-bom to the music, collecting tips in her g-string. If the folks back home in Littleton knew, they’d be scandalized. But then again, owning my femininity and controlling my body are my right. Maybe my old neighbors would be supportive in their own way? Who knows.