by Voss, Deja
Act natural, I tell myself, and I pick up my cell phone and pretend like I’m texting.
I nearly jump through the roof of my car when I hear a tap on my driver’s side window. I turn my head to look, and there she is, just staring at me with a ‘what the fuck are you doing’ kind of glare on her face. She’s kind of scary up close. I should probably just drive away right now.
“Roll down the window!” I hear her scream through the glass. I really don’t want to roll down the window. I really shouldn’t roll down the window.
I roll down the window.
“Can I help you?” she asks, her demeanor changing as soon as she gets a look at me.
“It’s kind of silly,” I say cautiously. I have no idea who this girl is or what she’s capable of.
“Are you here to audition?” she asks.
“What? Oh no,” I insist.
“Come on, you don’t have to be shy. I know a lot of girls get cold feet once they get here, but just check the place out. I promise you’ll really like it.”
I just got my ticket through the door. So what if she thinks I’m a wannabe stripper? If it gets me the answers I’m looking for, I can play pretend. It’s not like I’ll let it get to the point where I have to take off my clothes.
“You a cop?” she asks as I grab my purse.
“No.”
She opens the door for me and I step out into the parking lot. My legs feel stiff from driving for so many hours and I instinctively bend down to stretch, folding myself in half.
“Nice,” she says, nodding in approval. “You’re pretty flexible.”
I start to giggle. That probably looked pretty bad. “I’m a yoga instructor.”
“Really? You look pretty young. I was going to ask you if you were legal.”
“I’m twenty, so I guess so,” I shrug.
“I’m Esther,” she says, extending her hand to me. “This is my place. Have you ever danced before or is this like a trying to piss off your parents thing? Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally ok with that, but I don’t like training people just for them to quit a few weeks later when daddy buys them a new car and begs them to come home.”
“I’ve never danced before, but I don’t have a dad,” I say. “So you don’t have to worry about that.” I’m sure Mama and Aunt June would probably not be thrilled with the thought of me dancing, but hell, this is just pretend. I just need to get inside and hopefully find Ava, so I can drop this act.
“Well we can definitely work with that,” she says. The way she’s circling my body is kind of making me uncomfortable. I feel like a piece of meat. “What’s your name?”
My name… I should probably come up with something sexy, something different. I should’ve thought this out better.
“Amber. Amber Jameson,” I blurt out. So much for keeping things undercover.
“That works,” she shrugs.
The rumble of a motorcycle roars down the road, and I look over my shoulder excitedly, as if everything is going to align, and there my mom will be, hanging off the back of some bike. As soon as she sees me, we’ll both start crying and she’ll give me a perfectly good explanation about why she’s been gone all these years, and the two of us will never be apart ever again.
My hopes are dashed as the motorcycle pulls up next to us and the woman driving it pulls off her helmet and shakes out her gorgeous blonde curls. I thought Esther was really pretty, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as beautiful as her in real life before. She’s gotta be a model or something. Maybe she’s worked with my mom.
“You’re just in time, Ollie,” Esther says. “Somebody actually showed up for open auditions for once!”
“Nice.” Her smile is kind, but she’s doing that leering thing too, like she’s trying to see what’s under my jacket. “I’m Olive,” she says, extending her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m Amber,” I say.
“You’re way too cute to be here, Amber.”
“Stop,” Esther says, poking her in the ribs. “You know, you do look really familiar, though.”
My heart races. Maybe this is the part where they put two and two together and tell me where my mom is. I’m sure she’ll get a good laugh out of this.
“Did you used to date Jeff Gardner?”
“No.” The truth is, I’ve never dated anyone. I never had time. Between school and gymnastics and taking care of Mama, it just wasn’t at the top of my priority list. “I’ve never had a boyfriend.”
“So you date women? That’s cool, too,” she says.
“No. I just, I guess I’ve been busy?”
They both start laughing, and I feel like they’re making fun of me. My face is turning red, and I just want to get in my car and go home. I feel like I’m back in high school again, getting teased by the mean girls for being a prude.
“I’m sorry,” Esther says, noticing my discomfort. “We’re not laughing at you, I promise. We’re laughing at ourselves, I swear. We’re just a couple of old hoes.”
“Speak for yourself,” Olive says, raising her eyebrows. “I’m not as old as you are.”
“What in the world are you doing here, Amber Jameson?”
“I don’t know. Expanding my horizons?”
They look at each other and look at me. “Well come on inside, and we’ll see what we can do about that,” Esther says with a wink. She grabs me by the hand and Olive holds open the steel door for us. “Welcome to the ranch.”
Chapter 8
Micah:
I’ve been staring at the same article on the screen of my laptop all night long. Gary’s passed out on the couch, the sound of explosions still blaring in the background while he snores away, while I read the words over and over.
Apparently, some crazy shit went down at my grandfather’s camp. When they found my father, the only way they could identify him was by his dental records, most of his body was torn to pieces by a pit bull that was reported stolen a few weeks prior. The other victims, too. Their names aren’t familiar to me, but I’ve been so far gone from that world for so long, I have no idea what’s going on with anyone in the club. I have no idea what’s going on with anyone in my family.
This is the part of the night when I start feeling sentimental. When I start making bad choices. It’s 3 a.m. and I’m fighting the urge to pick up my phone and call Esther.
I try to imagine what she looks like now that she’s all grown up. She was always so beautiful and smart. She could’ve been whatever she wanted to be when she grew up. I wonder what happened to Gavin when he graduated college. I wonder if he took the leap and actually went to law school. I try to picture him as a high-power lawyer living in a city somewhere, only pulling his bike out on the weekend to indulge in his midlife crisis.
Then there’s Goob, my baby brother. Last I saw him, he was still in elementary school, little freckle-faced kid who wanted nothing more than to grow up and be a badass biker like his father, like me. That kid lived and died by the patch before he even knew what it meant to be Misfit. I can’t even picture him all grown up. He’ll always be a baby in my mind.
There’s no statement from the family in the article. No leads in the investigation. I’m pretty sure the police just assumed it was a bunch of scumbags and a drug deal or something gone wrong and are just trying to brush the whole horror show under the rug.
I thought I’d feel more relief when I found out my father died, but instead, I feel regret. My family never did me wrong, only my father, and I abandoned them, left them to deal with his madness. Everything about the way that night went down still leaves me filled with regret. My biggest mistake was letting him take her instead of me. My second biggest mistake wasn’t just killing him myself then and there.
I take a long drag from the bottle of bourbon, hoping it’ll put me to sleep, hoping it’ll shut up the voices in my mind telling me what I need to do.
Everywhere I turn, I’m not getting the answers I want to hear. I need some sort of sign, tel
ling me to forget about it, let it go, those people aren’t your family anymore. Riding my bike, all I could think about was heading north, not stopping until I found my way back to that mountain. The only thing that made me turn around was the dread of having to come back with my tail between my legs and face these people I haven’t seen in all these years. For all I know, they have no idea why I left. For all I know, dad painted me out to be a monster. All I could see was Ava’s face, fighting for her life, while I stood there with my hands in my pockets. That face still haunts me every time I blink.
“The fuck are you doing?” Gary asks, snapping awake, spotting me on the computer in the armchair. “You looking for a date or something? What time is it?”
“Can you cover for me this weekend?” I ask. Even if I don’t go home, I need to go somewhere. I need to get out of this shitty apartment, get out of town, get away from the bar and figure out what I’m doing with my life. I’m too old to reenlist but maybe I could go back to school. Maybe I could get a comfy office job on a base somewhere. Maybe I could just absorb the identity I created for myself instead of backpedaling.
“The whole weekend? Come on, dude,” he whines. “You act like I don’t have shit to do, too.”
I snap the laptop shut and stand up. “I’m sure your left hand will forgive you if you’re a little late for your date.”
“Fuck you,” he says, rolling over on the couch. “You know I’ll do it.”
I stand there for a minute while he falls back to sleep, waiting for that sign that I’m so desperately searching for, that sign telling me this is a bad idea, but all I hear is Gary snoring. Looks like I’m going home for the first time in fifteen years.
Chapter 9
Amber:
“Wow,” I stammer as we walk into the mansion. This place is nothing like I’d imagine a strip club to be. It smells clean, like fresh cut flowers and citrus, and everything is so open and bright. “This place is gorgeous.”
“It’s my passion project,” Esther explains. “I’ve been in the business for a really long time. I wanted to make the ranch an upscale place for women to work. The sex industry is so dark and shady and dangerous, and it doesn’t have to be. I wanted the ranch to be the kind of place that I’d like to work.”
“Do you two dance here?”
They’re doing that laughing thing again.
“I’m married,” Esther says. “I got out of the business a while ago. I just make sure everything goes smoothly around here.”
“I can’t dance for shit,” Olive giggles. “I tried; in fact, that’s how I ended up here on this mountain to begin with, but there is nothing sexy about my moves. I’m just bartending here a couple nights a week for Esther until she finds someone full time.”
“She’s also married. With a child,” Esther reminds her, rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, I don’t think old Tank would be too keen on me rubbing my titties all over some dude’s face.” She starts to laugh, her giggle filling up the whole room. “But if I was your age, and I looked like you, and I could dance… hell, I’d be all over it. I’d probably even be working the upstairs, too. The money is good and most of the dudes are pretty hot.”
“Ollie, enough,” Esther says sternly.
“What’s the upstairs?”
“Don’t worry about it, Amber. Maybe someday we’ll talk about it.”
I think I get what she’s laying down. Sexy women, men with money, bedrooms upstairs, I’m pretty sure this place isn’t just a strip club.
“You never had sex before?” Olive stammers.
“Ollie! Leave the poor girl alone.”
“Well she said she never had a boyfriend, I just, I mean, it’s not like every guy you smash is your boyfriend.”
“I’ve done stuff,” I shrug. I made out with a guy before. I even let a guy touch my boobs over my shirt. I’m sure their idea of stuff is different than mine, but I don’t want to sound like a clueless idiot.
“See,” Olive says, raising her eyebrows. “She’s done stuff.”
“I’m still really fucking clueless here,” Esther says. “I mean, you’re a good-looking girl, I kinda like you, but what in the world are you doing here?”
I came here looking for my mom, but now my mind is kind of wandering. Exotic dancing has never been something that had crossed my mind, but something about this place is exciting. Nobody knows me, I’m far away from home, and I can be whoever I want to be for the first time in my life. Maybe this is how my mom felt when she met these people. Maybe this was her way of getting out from underneath Mama’s strict rule. The thought of getting up on that stage and dancing is almost thrilling. What’s the worst that could happen? I decide that I don’t like it and go home and never come back again?
Or maybe I decide that I like it and end up hanging around a little longer? Either way, I know if I walk out that door right now, I’m nowhere closer to the reason why I came here.
“Now you stop,” Olive says. “You haven’t even seen her dance yet. Maybe she’s a natural.”
“You’re right. Maybe she is. What kind of music do you want?”
I get up on the stage and start walking around, trying to determine how much space I have. There’s a pole right in the middle, plus three little platforms that cut out into the audience. I could definitely work with this. Back in my gymnastics day, I was always making up silly routines to raunchy rap songs. Combine that with my yoga training, and I think these two might be pretty impressed. The taking off my clothes part, though, that’s just something I’m going to have to teach myself as I go.
“Is rap okay?” I ask. “Something kind of fast?” I run my hand up and down the metal pole. I could definitely work with this. “You got any chalk for my hands?”
They both look at each other, nodding in approval. This is either going to be epic or a disaster. Esther dims the main lights, and from the stage, I can barely see out into the area where the crowd would be sitting. I take off my leather jacket and set it down on the floor, and take a couple deep breaths, drawing on my yoga skills to bring myself to a state of calm.
“Why do I think this is going to be awesome?” Olive asks.
“Good Form” by Nicki Minaj starts to blast through the speakers.
I can work with this, I think, as I do a couple squats, trying to stretch out my skinny jeans just a little bit so I don’t split them down the middle. I prance across the stage to the beat of the music, and leap up on the pole, smiling as I swing my way to the bottom. This is definitely kind of fun, and if I had some chalk, I bet I could do things on this bad boy that would blow everyone’s mind. My upper body strength is amazing from years of working out.
I crawl across the stage, conjuring up sexy dance moves in my mind, tapping into my alter ego. I get right up on the edge and pop up into a handstand, splaying my legs into a split over my head.
I cartwheel back to the pole, grinding on it, flexing my legs and turning myself upside down.
By the time the song ends, I am a little sweaty and winded, but I feel so alive. My heart is racing as I wait for Esther’s approval. Olive is clapping and whistling, and I can tell I’m blushing as I sit there in a split on the floor, my arms in the air.
“You’re good, Amber,” Esther says. “Really good. But you do realize you’re gonna have to strip, too, right?”
Yeah, I kinda figured I’d cross that bridge when I got there. Then again, never in a million years did I think I’d be auditioning at a strip club and actually enjoying it.
“I know,” I say. “I just figured there was no sense if you were going to laugh me off the stage. Might as well hang on to a little bit of my pride, right?”
“You have every right to be proud,” she says as she flicks on the lights. “You’re very talented. Why don’t we go in the back and pick out some costumes for you?”
It’s all happening so fast, like I’m being initiated into their inner circle before I can even get a word in. My common sense is telling me to get the hell out
of here, that I have no business being here, that I need to just come clean and tell them what I’m doing here to begin with.
Fuck that common sense, a little voice inside my head says. This is fun. And Lord knows I could use a little fun in my life. They take me into the room behind the stage. There are six vanities with lit mirrors, beautiful velvet couches, and lush pillows everywhere, and more make-up and racks of clothes than I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s beautiful. It’s every girl’s dream come true. I want to live here.
Olive starts flipping through the racks, pulling out leotards, thongs, and tiny little pieces of lingerie, draping them over my arm.
“She’s really good at this,” Esther says. “She has an eye for things.”
I hold up the one-piece black mesh leotard with the zipper down the front that goes all the way to the bottom. The back is cut into a thong. My eyes grow wide.
“Definitely that one,” Olive says. “With your blonde hair and your complexion, oh my god, you’re going to look so hot.”
The two of them just stare at me, clutching the little piece of fabric in my hand.
“Go try it on,” Esther says, motioning to the curtain hanging from the wall. This thing literally leaves nothing to the imagination. I’ve never even seen something like this before, let alone worn it. I don’t think anyone has ever seen me in less than a gymnastics leotard before, and I’m about to expose myself to two strange women.
My heart races as I step out of my clothes, stripping all the way down, pulling the scandalous outfit up over my body. It stretches around my curves, hugging them tight. Even though I pull the zipper all the way up to my neck, it’s not hiding anything. There’s no mirror in here, but as I look down over my body, I can see my pink nipples sticking out through the fabric. The outline of my mound is prominent, and my ass hangs out the back, the cut of the thong making a perfect circle around my curvy cheeks.