Why did Jared have to go and get himself hit by a truck? I love the heck out of him, but can’t he just look both ways before crossing the road? And the police are still trying to look for that damn truck driver. It was a classic case of hit-and-run, and I need that driver to foot that eyebrow-raising hospital bill.
A man throws a wad of cash in my face, drawing my mind back to the club.
I sigh. I don’t like dancing for these men.
Except for that one in the corner.
I hook my leg around the metal bar, spinning as I go. I try to be classy, but it’s hard when there are two decorations clipped to my nipples. It’s terrible fashion, but hey, that was the dress code today. I spread my legs and then quickly close them, teasing the hungry wolves who are making it rain on the dance floor. They whistle and howl.
Animals.
But the stranger standing in the distance doesn’t join in. He’s been looking at me all night. I know I’m attractive, at least with my layers of makeup sticking to my skin like grime. Lashes that are too long to be real, hair dyed a fake shade of lavender, so I look kinkier to my customers, lips slightly overdrawn to make them fuller. It’s strange how cosmetics in this age make women look like glorified clowns.
The stranger wears a leather jacket. He has short hair with a long, swept-back fringe. I can’t make out more in the pulsing lights, but I can tell he exudes power. I can almost see it misting around him like a fog that follows him everywhere he goes. His sharp eyes trail my every movement. I can feel him even as I have my back to him.
Other men would have come closer to the stage long ago. They’d have tempted me with a large bill, and I would oblige, because I like the money. I’d pluck the dirty cash from their cold fingers and shove it into my thong, before pushing my breasts into their face.
Some girls in the club pride themselves in their work. Not me. I know some of these men have wives, children. But to them, fun is more tempting than vows.
I want this stranger to come close to me, so I can see his features more clearly. He’s in a shroud of mystery, and I want to know what’s underneath.
He never moves. Not once does he move as the night passes. I dance, shake, flash. But he remains just as he was the moment he arrived—unmoving. Supernaturally so, even. Other people wouldn’t be able to tell in this darkness, but I have good eyesight. Jared and I always have had good eyesight, sharp hearing, and a strong sense of smell.
How the hell is Mr. Dark and Mysterious keeping this still? It’s a little freaky, actually.
I’m left with regret and disappointment when the night ends. I pick up whatever I can from the ground. The crispness of the money rustles in my palm. I duck behind the curtains. There, Anya is waiting.
She has her hand out. “My cut,” she says.
“Thirty percent?” I ask. I need to talk to her about that. The thought of the hospital bill continues to thrum in my mind.
She nods.
She snatches my cash from me and begins counting. Her hounds are doing the same with the other girls. I watch their dejected looks as their hard-earned pay is forced from their grasps. It’s robbery in its most blatant form.
Anya hands me what’s left. She moves, and I block her way.
Frowning, she shoots a question at me with her expression.
“Thirty percent is too high,” I tell her.
She scowls. “It’s what it’s always been.”
“And I’m saying it’s too high. It’s time for a change. The other clubs are charging their girls a flat rate. Why not here?” I speak loudly, and I know I’ve gotten the attention of everyone around me.
“Then you’re free to go to those clubs.” She’s made that argument before.
I should. I haven’t, only because I started at Club Sin. Complacency has gotten the best of me. But complacency also means less money. “I will.”
Anya widens her eyes. “Wait… really?”
“Tonight will be my last night here, then.” My thoughts are still distracted by Mr. Dark and Mysterious. Is he still out there?
It’s strange conducting a negotiation half-nude.
Anya shakes her head. “Wait… Val. Come on. You can’t be serious. You’ve been here for years.”
I’m no longer looking at her. “Too long. Nothing is forever. There’s bigger fish out there. I don’t need to stay here anymore.”
I’m causing a commotion. That’s my intention. I want the girls here to know they have an option, because they’re scared of rejection and the new. Anya takes a pretty amount from us, but she’s also made the place comfortable. Everyone’s getting less money here, and she’s taking advantage of us, but that doesn’t seem like a strong enough reason for them to leave.
For me, money’s my drug, so less of it is more than enough motivation.
“Fine, fine,” Anya says, waving her hands.
I spin toward her.
She purses her lips. “Twenty percent.”
“A flat rate.”
“Two hundred a night.”
I shake my head. “One.”
“Hundred and fifty.”
“One.”
She wants me to stay because I draw the men in with my mask of beauty. I’ve never slept with any of them. I think that makes them want me more.
The warmth of the dancing fades, and the air conditioning begins to chill. I want to get dressed soon.
Her face pales at my final offer. Disgruntled, she obliges, and I grin. I eye the wad of cash in her hands.
She draws back. “Tonight’s the same. You can live one day a little poorer.”
I don’t want to, but she’s a wounded animal, so I let her win. “Fine,” I say.
She peels away and counts her earnings again. Anya’s a fox.
I stride to my dressing table and pull my robe around me. I long for a good shower. I’ll go home after this, and when everyone else rises for work in the morning, I’ll finally get some rest. I stretch my arms out in front of me.
“Thanks,” a girl says. Kylie has a meek voice. She’s a peach, with doe-like eyes, gorgeous caramel skin, and a disposition sweeter than ice cream. Her hair’s a pretty pink. It’s good to stand out in show business.
“For?” I don’t remember helping her out.
“You confronted Anya for us. We’ve been meaning to do that for months.”
“I wanted a fatter check.”
“You didn’t have to do it so openly. Now everyone’s going to use you as an example. So we’ll be able to negotiate better.”
That was my intention. I shrug anyway. “Don’t see why I had to be secretive about it.”
Kylie’s like a baby sister to me. One can’t help but want to protect her because of how innocent she seems.
“Going home after this?” I ask.
“Probably.” She rubs her arm.
“What’s bothering you?” I ask.
“There’s this guy…”
When she pauses to stare at a wall, I say, “There’s a lot of them.”
“He’s been bothering me all night. Saying things…”
I’ve met my fair share of his type. “You’re afraid.”
She nods. Kylie told me she hasn’t had any sexual experiences. Not work-related, anyway. Most strippers actually don’t want to be whores. Two very different professions. Though sometimes the lines get blurred.
“I’ll walk you to your car if you’re worried,” I say. “I’ll even tail you as you drive home. Just to make sure.”
“The tailing’s unnecessary.” She quirks a smile that looks like sugar. “But the walk would be nice. Thank you.”
“Let me wash up first.”
“Sure, of course.”
One awesome thing about Club Sin is that they have showers for their strippers. Not all clubs have the luxury. I did say it was comfortable.
I scrub and wipe myself off, don what I deem respectable clothes, and step out. I look in the mirror of my dresser when I head back. I can actually see the blue of my eye
s without all that terrible makeup. Rows of piercings decorate the curve of my ear. I’m addicted to them. Makes me feel cooler. A little bit stronger. They’re a fashion habit I picked up in my younger years.
I dry my mid-length lavender hair and smooth it with my hands.
“Ready?” I ask Kylie, picking up my handbag. She’s perched next to me, tying her hair into a ponytail.
I’ve been tempted to go back out and look for Mr. Dark and Mysterious, but decide against the notion, thinking it ludicrous. Maybe he wasn’t even been looking at me, but one of my peers.
Kylie adjusts the strap of her sling bag. “Yep.” Her lips pop at the P sound.
We shuffle past the late-nighters. The streets are dark because it’s five in the morning. Los Angeles is a different creature at night. Palm trees line the sides of the roads. Their tropical green has turned into a spiky black, and they look like ominous silhouettes in the shadows.
“Thanks for keeping me company,” Kylie says.
I laugh. “It’s a walk down a block. You don’t need to thank me so many times.”
“Yeah. Still appreciate it. You’re easy to talk to.”
The air’s warmer today. I like the sensation of my sneakers against my heels. Striding around and dancing in nine-inch heels all night kills my ankles.
There’s a gaze on our back. I don’t know how I know, but I’ve always had that sixth sense. My ears twitch.
I’m on alert, but Kylie’s still relaxed.
She shoots me a glance. “How’s your brother doing?”
“Jared?” Kylie has met him three times at most. Women are often drawn to him. Probably because he looks good with his auburn hair and strong features. At least, I think he looks good? ’Cause he’s my brother, and finding a sibling attractive is just plain weird.
Kylie fidgets. “He invited me out for dinner one time.”
I keep that bit about him getting hit by a truck to myself. He’s okay now, and revealing it might cause Kylie to freak out and find a reason to visit. I didn’t want Jared hurting poor Kylie. “You said no, right?” I love my brother dearly, but he’s left a long trail of broken hearts, and Kylie doesn’t deserve being next in line.
“I gave him my number. He called a couple times…”
I don’t like where this is going. “And?”
“I turned him down.”
Good on her. “Why?” I ask. Few girls turn Jared down. They’re too ready to let him get into their pants.
She glances back at Club Sin. “Not sure if he’d like a girl like me.”
Jared likes most girls. Whether he can stick with them or not is an entirely different matter. “I don’t see why not.” My brother’s a romantic. The worst kind.
“I don’t exactly have the classiest profession.”
I sniff. “Neither do I.”
“I didn’t mean it that way!”
We round a corner. The parking lot’s right ahead. “No offense taken. You’re awesome, Kylie. You deserve to be loved. Stripping’s good money, and it’s not like we’re robbing banks or something. Let the men decide whether they want you or not. And if they don’t; then their loss. You need a little more confidence in yourself.”
“So, I should reply to Jared?”
“Not Jared.”
She lifts a brow and turns to me. “I knew it. You’re against—”
“It’s not like that. Jared doesn’t deserve you. Not the other way around.” I make a mental note to confront him about this. My friends are off-limits. Kylie especially.
“Hey,” a male calls. His voice is coming from behind.
We spin around. There’s a greasy-looking fellow strolling toward us. The street lamp darkens his form. His hair falls in clumps around his eyes, and his loose tank top looks like it hasn’t been washed in days. They reveal his arms, which are large but not muscular.
“That’s him,” Kylie tells me, scooting a little closer.
I straighten. The static rises in me. That’s what I call it—the static. I can’t explain how it works or why I have it, but I’ve always had this strange power. It makes me faster, stronger, and I can sear my opponent’s skin with my touch due to my static. It’s become useful in my trade. Keeps me safe.
He’s sauntering toward us, acting as if his cock is bigger than his brains, and shaking a wad of money at us. “Why don’t you girls let me show you a good time?”
My heightened sense of smell tells me he’s drunk. The scent of alcohol emanates from him.
“You should head to your car,” I say to Kylie.
She shakes her head. “What? No! I can’t leave you here with him.”
“I’ll be fine.” Can’t say the same for him.
“I’m staying here.”
I bite my tongue. I really don’t want Kylie thinking of me differently. “You might want to look away.”
I crack my knuckles as the stranger nears us. “You’re not actually thinking to fight me off, are you? A scrawny girl like you.” He’s not focused on me but Kylie. He’s studying her like she’s an expensive piece of steak, and it makes my skin crawl.
I look at the bills he’s holding. That money can probably pay off some of my debts. Keep me alive for the next week. Foot Jared’s bill.
“No deal,” I tell him.
He tries to push past. That’s when something clicks in my head. A primal sensation.
Sometimes I question whether Jared and I are something more than human. We have heightened senses and have always healed faster than others. Plus, I have violent tendencies. Ones I don’t believe any man or woman should have.
Red anger flashes in my eyes.
Before he grabs Kylie, my fingers are wrapped around his wrist. I force his hand at an angle that almost makes his bones break.
Kylie yelps behind me.
A menacing sound escapes his throat.
“Bitch!” He swings at my face, but I elbow him before his fist meets me.
I kick his groin. His face turns blue. He falls to the ground and curls up in pain.
“Val…” Kylie whimpers behind me. “That was…”
“You should have gone to your car,” I say.
Her eyes are like moons as she stares at me.
I smell blood wafting from our assailant. Perhaps I was too rough. He’s not as menacing as he was just moments ago, curled up on the asphalt. A rabid dog isn’t so scary with all its fangs plucked out.
Kylie’s lower lip is quivering. “Ye-eah.” She’s still stunned and doesn’t move.
I point to her car. “Your car’s right there.”
“R-r-right.” She fishes her car keys out of her bag. “Who taught you to fight like that?”
I shrug. “It’s a natural talent.”
“That can’t be right.”
“It’s morning. You must be tired.” I don’t like talking about my powers. They scare me because they make me question what I am. Right now, I have no clue what I am. What Jared and I are. He’s been looking for the answer, but so far, nothing.
My eyes trail after Kylie as she heads to her vehicle. I look at the drunk man. His money’s lying next to him, fanned out on the ground. I crouch down, pick it up, and start counting.
He’s still groaning in pain. I don’t want to, but I pity him.
The cash is tempting. I have half a mind to pocket it.
But the poor bastard’s suffered enough.
I’m second-guessing myself as I force his money back into his pocket. Adios, money. I might really regret this later.
That’s when I sense another pair of eyes on me. It wasn’t just this stranger stalking us.
Kylie revs up her car and drives out of the parking lot. She waves at me through her window as she leaves, and I wave and smile back. Her tires screech on the asphalt as she exits out to the street.
As she drives out of my view, I see him. Still a faint figure. Mr. Dark and Mysterious. He’s standing underneath a lamppost, hands in his pockets, with a presence that makes it hard to tear my e
yes away. I get up and stride toward him.
Then I blink, and he’s gone.
A chill creeps over me. He feels like a figment of my imagination, but I know he’s real, and I have this unexplainable need to talk to him.
I’m sitting in my car and biting into my sandwich as I talk to Jules. It’s six a.m. Jules is an early riser. The sky’s still dark, looming over my apartment block.
“No word?” I ask her.
Jules is my agent. Her voice is fuzzy through the speaker of my cell. “I’m trying really hard. You’re pretty. You can act, dance, sing. I’m sure you’ll be able to get a role soon.”
I turn off the engine and push the car’s door open. I step out onto the parking lot. “I can’t get a role if you don’t get me any casting calls.” I turn around, bend over to reach my handbag, and search for my car keys.
“I know, sweetheart.”
I don’t like it when she calls me that because she sounds fake. “I’ve been waiting too long.”
“I know,” she says again.
It’s been years since I brought Jared with me to L.A. I wanted nothing more than to get out of the shithole we were born in, and away from our crazy mother. Dark Hollow is a town that can be cozy for those with sane families, but Jared and I didn’t have one.
I thought things would get better in the big city. I was wrong. The poor are treated the same way no matter where they are. I recall the last foster parent Jared and I were stuck with. After I saw what he did to Jared… how he defiled Jared… I promised myself to never let my brother go through that kind of pain again. Jared acts like he’s gotten over it, even though I don’t think he actually has, but the image will forever be burned in my mind.
“I’ve got you some casting calls,” Jules continues. “You’ve turned them down.”
I slam the car door behind me and grip the phone between my ear and shoulder. “They don’t pay enough.” I hold my half-eaten sandwich in one hand, my bag in the other.
“Gigs are gigs. They might not pay, but you’ll get attention.”
I know she’s right. But I just want to quickly get out of my shitty situation. Fame is one way to do it. I long for the day I can see myself on the big screen, a fat check in my pocket.
“Call me when you have something,” I say.
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