by Erin Osborne
“Well, here’s the thing. I know I don’t have a chance at getting a job in town and I can’t afford to move away. Brighton Hills is my home. So, I saw an ad in the paper for Legacies. They’re holding auditions tomorrow and I know I don’t have to have a college degree to get a job there,” I tell her, looking away from her so I don’t see the disappointment and disgust in her eyes.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she asks, standing up from the couch with her ice cream in hand. “Why would you want to work there? You know it’s run and owned by Kings Vengeance, right?”
“I know it is. Right now, I don’t have a choice in the matter. I have the bare minimum saved up because of everything I’ve been doing to the house over the last five years. I’ll be lucky if it gets Karson and me through the next month and that’s without him hitting a growth spurt or needing any medicine or anything,” I answer, feeling dejected and like I’m falling in a hole I can’t get out of right now.
“I know you feel trapped and like you have no other options. Are you sure there’s nothing else in town you can get?” she questions.
“I’m positive. I’ve looked through the ‘help wanted’ ads since getting home. There’s no place hiring that accepts a high school diploma,” I tell her. “If I had any other options available to me, I’d take them.”
Santana sits back down next to me and digs into her melting ice cream. Since getting home, the heat is becoming oppressive and almost unbearable. I don’t have air conditioning and the ceiling fans and other random fans in the house are all on high. They still aren’t touching the heat beginning to seep into the house from outside. I shouldn’t have covered Karson back up because it’s hot in his room and he’ll wake up miserable and sweaty.
“Okay, what do you need from me?” she finally asks me.
“If I get the job, can you watch Karson for me? I don’t know of any daycares open that late and I don’t know when I’ll be working,” I ask her.
“You know I’ve got your back. I’m worried as hell about you working for the MC, but I get it. You’ve always worked since I’ve known you and I know you need this to keep your brother. So, yes, I’ll babysit for you,” she tells me, pulling me into another hug.
“Okay. I have to be there for the auditions tomorrow at noon,” I say.
“Sounds good. I got no plans tonight, so looks like a sleepover with you and K-man,” Santana says.
She walks to the bag she brought and pulls out a stack of movies. All romantic comedies and a few animated movies for Karson to watch. These movies will find their way onto my bookshelf because Santana spoils us rotten.
Santana doesn’t have to work. Ever. She got a trust fund from her grandmother when she turned twenty-one and uses it very wisely. Hell, she’s offered to move us out of this hell hole more than once, but I can’t take her money. It’s a matter of pride. Something I’m slowly going to lose in myself I fear by stripping for money. But I won’t ever take money I know I can’t pay back from her or anyone else. It’s important for me to pay my own way and make sure I can take care of Karson. I don’t want anyone to have a reason to take him from me. I’ll fight anyone I have to for Karson.
I’m finally crawling into bed after an exhausting day. Karson got up from his nap and was full of energy. Whatever bug he had is definitely gone. Add in the junk food Santana fed him and he wasn’t ready to go to sleep at his normal bedtime. Santana feels awful about it and knows I try to always keep him on a schedule.
So, after finally getting him into bed, I clean up the house and make sure Santana has what she needs to sleep on the pull-out bed in the living room. Sleep claims me as soon as my head hits the bed.
Waking up, I look at the alarm clock and see it’s almost nine in the morning. I can already smell coffee brewing and breakfast cooking. Santana is an early riser as I usually am. It’s just been taking a toll on me the last few days with Karson being sick and then losing my job.
I make my way out of my room to find Karson and Santana in the kitchen making pancakes and bacon. There’s juice sitting on the table with plates waiting for us to sit down and eat. Karson is standing on a chair near Santana but not too close to the stove, so he doesn’t get hurt. I walk up to them and bend down to give Karson a kiss on the top of his hair before ruffling his hair.
Karson could be my son because we look that much alike. I know we must take after my mom’s side of the family because there’s no way in hell we have the same father. We both have dark blonde hair and blue eyes. The only difference is Karson’s eyes look almost a navy blue instead of the bright blue eyes I have. Our mannerisms and features are similar and I’m the only mother he’s ever known. I’ll take it because I love him with everything in me.
I honestly think his dad is a man named Lloyd. He’s a pimp and gets whoever he can hooked on whatever drugs he has on him at the time. Lloyd isn’t a good man and I’m grateful he hasn’t come around here since my mom died. He’s not the type of man you say no to.
“Morning,” Santana says, handing me a steaming cup of coffee with my favorite creamer already in it.
“Morning. I’m sorry I slept in,” I tell her, looking sheepish.
“Don’t worry about it. Karson and I were gonna serve you breakfast in bed if we had to,” she tells me, smiling down at him.
Sitting down at the table, I remain out of the way of her cooking. Santana is a beast in the kitchen, and I love everything she’s ever made us. I can cook, but it’s nowhere near as good as anything she makes. I’m jealous of her in that regard only. Karson has never once complained though and we make do the best we can.
“So, you’re really gonna do this?” she asks.
“Yeah. I don’t see what other option I have,” I tell her, setting my cup down on the table as she brings the plates of food over.
Grabbing a pancake, I butter it and cut it up for Karson. He runs to the fridge and opens it to grab the syrup. When he gets back to the table, I pour it on his breakfast before adding a slice of bacon. He can always have more, but I always start him out with the minimal amount because he doesn’t always eat a lot.
“Okay. I wish I could help, but I know you won’t take any money from me,” she says, grabbing her own food and filling her plate up.
“I just can’t. It’s a long story and one I don’t want to think about,” I tell her, looking at my own plate.
“I know. But one of these days, you’re going to have to tell me.”
Santana drops the topic and we eat in silence. I keep an eye on Karson as he devours his food and gets up from the table. He’s full for now, but I know he’ll want a snack before lunch. I have a few apples left and that will have to do for him today. Other than when Santana comes over, I really don’t give him a lot of junk food. He loves fruit and vegetables, so I try to always make sure we have them on hand.
I clean up the kitchen when we’re done eating since Santana cooked. She takes a quick shower while I’m washing everything and putting the food away. By the time I’m done, she’s dressed and ready to spend the day with Karson. I’m not sure what she has planned for the day, but she knows to stick close to my house and keep everything locked up.
Taking my turn in the shower, I quickly wash my hair and apply conditioner. I let it sit in my hair while I wash my body and make sure to shave everything. After rinsing off, I get out and prepare for the audition. I’m not even sure what the hell I should be wearing to the damn thing. So, I put on a pair of jeans that mold to my body and a loose-fitting tank top. Heading in my room, I look at my clothes and growl in frustration. I don’t own sexy clothes. At all.
Santana comes in and sees my dilemma. She grabs my hand and pulls me back out into the living room. I look around at the mess she’s made. There’re clothes laying over every available surface. What the hell?
“What’s going on?” I ask her, looking around again.
“I know you didn’t have anything to wear today. So, I got up early this morning and stopped by the house to gr
ab you a few things of mine,” she answers.
It honestly looks like Santana’s closet threw up in my small, dingy living room. No matter how much I clean, the house still looks dingy and I hate it. But beggars can’t be choosers and I’m doing the best I can with what I have to work with. As I take in the mess before me, I begin to feel completely overwhelmed and ready to give up before I’ve even started.
Steeling my spine and holding my head high, I begin flipping through the clothes and find a pair of short jean shorts with a halter top that’s black. Walking to the bathroom, I try the outfit on and tug down the shorts to cover my ass. The halter top leaves a patch of skin open between the shorts and bottom of the top while my chest is pushed up. I swear with one wrong move, my tits will be on show for everyone in Legacies today.
I walk out to the living room and show Santana the outfit. She whistles at me as I turn and show her how I look.
“Girl, you look hot with a capital ‘H’,” she tells me. “Now, sit your ass down so we can take care of your make-up and nails. You need to look the damn part if you’re going to go through with this.”
Listening to her, I sit down, and she pulls out a deep red nail polish. My finger and toenails are painted to perfection. While we’re waiting for them to dry, Santana gets started on my make-up. I’m not sure what she’s doing to me, but it feels weird as hell. I’ve never worn make-up in my life before and I’m not sure how this is going to work when I’m sure I’ll have to wear it daily if I get hired. Fuck my life!
“We’re not going to do a damn thing to your hair. It looks amazing flowing down your back with the natural curl to it. Bitch,” Santana says, grumbling because she wants my curly hair.
“If that’s what you think,” I mutter.
Nerves and butterflies are settling in my stomach and there’s still an hour to go before the auditions. I’m glad I ate breakfast because I don’t have an appetite right now. My stomach is too upset to even attempt to eat anything. But I have to feed Karson his lunch. So, I get up when she’s done working her magic on me and get my brother a sandwich and some grapes to eat. Santana grabs herself a sandwich and some grapes along with a string cheese. It’s not much, but once I have money, I’ll be able to go shopping and get some groceries.
I sit with them at the table and sip from a bottle of water. Santana keeps glancing at me, and I know Karson can feel my anxiousness as well. Oh well. I need to get it all out of my system now so I can go to the audition and be filled with confidence. Even if I don’t feel confident, I can fake it and still do a good job. Hopefully.
“Okay, I’m gonna head out. It’s a long as hell walk to get to Legacies,” I finally say.
Karson is done eating and I’ve cleaned him up. He’s in the living room with some of his blocks playing on the floor. Santana stops picking up her clothes from around the room and goes to her purse. After rooting around for a minute, she tosses her keys to me.
“Here, I don’t want you walking all the way there,” she tells me, turning her back on me. “And wear theses shoes with that.”
I take the platform sandals out of her hand and slip them on my feet. Thankfully I’ve danced around the house in them, so I know I won’t make a complete ass of myself on stage. But I know dancing on a stage in front of strangers is completely different to dancing around in my house with only Karson and Santana to see it.
“Thank you for the clothes and watching Karson for me. I’ll see you soon,” I tell her, hugging her and kissing Karson before heading out to her car.
“Girl, you don’t have to thank me for shit. I’m happy to help you out in any way I can. Good luck, I know you’re gonna kill it,” she tells me before shooing me out the door.
Santana has a new Dodge Charger and I absolutely love the car. It’s all black with chrome and the sound system is out of this world. I turn it on and roll down the windows. She’s got the radio cranking from her drive home this morning. Something from Nothing by the Foo Fighters is playing on the radio and I leave it alone. That’s my plan; I will make something of my life and not be the trash that everyone in Brighton Hills thinks I am.
Chapter Three
Sydney a.k.a Delight
IT DOESN’T TAKE me long to pull up to Legacies. There’re a few motorcycles parked out front and one truck. The bikes all shine in the bright sun beating down on them. They’re all powerful looking and I know members of the club are here to watch the auditions. The truck matches the bikes in looking like a powerful vehicle. It’s jacked up and I’m surprised anyone can get in the damn thing as I look at it.
Other than two other cars, the parking lot is empty. I’m not sure if there’s a back lot or anything, but that’s not why I’m here. The only thing I care about is having a job so I can take care of Karson.
Getting out of the car, I look at the outside of Legacies. It looks like a non-descript building that’s been vacant for a while. While it’s been maintained, there’s still a haunted, vacant look to it. The windows in the front have all been blacked out so you can’t see anything inside and the outside of the building is painted a light grey color. Other than a few potholes close to the road, the parking lot is paved and has been taken care of over the years. If I didn’t see the sign out front indicating the strip club, I’d have driven right by it.
There’s a man standing in front of the door. He’s large and full of muscles. I see the leather vest of the motorcycle club over a black tee-shirt. He stands well over six-foot-tall and I can’t see much else of his face because he’s wearing a black baseball hat on his head and shades cover his eyes. Jeans that have been well worn adorn his legs covering the tops of his scuffed motorcycle boots. A cigarette is hanging from his mouth and a shiver of trepidation runs through me. I’m not necessarily scared of him, but I do realize he could break me in half without much effort on his part.
“Can I help you?” he asks, his voice deep and rich.
“I’m here for the auditions,” I tell him, making my voice strong.
He looks me up and down before a smirk graces his face. “Go right on in, babe,” he tells me, opening the door for me.
I smile at him and walk through the door coming to a complete stop just inside. It’s so dark inside my eyes have to adjust before I can move any further into the club. As I look around, I take in the appearance of the club. Everything is covered in black with red accents. Booths line the back wall and the left side of the club. There’s a bar on the right side taking up almost the entire length of the club. Tables fill the space in between along with a large table off to the left of the first stage. Tucked away in the corner is a booth with a man standing behind it. I’m going to guess that’s where the DJ works from.
At the large table sit five men and one woman. They look at me as I walk in and join the three other women standing before me. As soon as I join them, my eyes drift toward the man I saw yesterday; the one who always captures my attention whenever I happen to see him in town. I can’t tear my eyes from him as he looks down at the table and ignores everyone.
Today he’s wearing a dark grey shirt that stretches tight across his muscular chest with his vest over it. His brown hair is sticking up like he’s been running his hands through it. I can’t see his eyes because he’s looking down at the table, but I can see the five o’clock shadow gracing his face and I want to run my hands over it and see if it’s prickly like I think it will feel against my skin.
“Okay. You’re going to go up on stage one at a time. You’ll all dance to the same song. If you know how to use the pole safely then feel free to do so. But it’s not required today. Just dance how you would in a club,” the woman at the table says. “Blondie, you’re up first.”
The first woman in line goes up on stage. After a minute Cherry Pie by Warrant blares through the club. I turn my attention toward the stage and watch her dance. She sways her hips and dances to the music, her gaze falling on the dark-haired stranger I’ve been fantasizing over since the first time I saw him riding thr
ough town. Yeah, I can finally admit that to myself. He doesn’t even pay attention keeping his gaze firmly on the beer bottle in front of him.
Before the song is even over with, the music stops, and she’s told she can get off the stage. I watch as she sits at a table close to theirs and takes a seat. Her gaze is still on the man and an irrational desire to tear her eyes off of him hits me. I’ve never been a jealous person so I’m not exactly sure where this is coming from. What the hell is wrong with me?
I turn my attention toward the stage and watch the other two women get up on stage. They’re amazing dancers and I suddenly feel lacking and stupid for being here. There’s no way in hell I’m going to get a spot when these women look as if they’ve stripped before. Or at the very least danced in a club with other people surrounding them and dancing with them. I don’t know anything about that. At all. I’m so damn pathetic when it comes to things I should have already experienced in life at my age.
Normally, I’m very confident in myself because I’ve had to be. I know who I am and where I want to be in life, I just haven’t gotten there yet. Just like I know I’m attractive, and not in an egotistical way, but I work hard on my body when I can because I love to eat. Cheerleading really helped me get in the mindset to work out on a regular basis so I do when I’m home and Karson is sleeping.
The next two girls dance, and I watch them as the music is once again cut before the song is over with. They join the first girl at the table behind the owners of the club and there’s an uncomfortable silence in the club as I wait to be told to take my turn. Now, my stomach is ramping up with nerves and the butterflies are back in full force while I patiently wait. It feels as if my hands are sweaty and I don’t want to risk rubbing them down my shorts in case one of the owners are watching me. That’s why I stand completely still with my shoulders squared and keep my head held high.
Suddenly I’m being told it’s my turn on the stage. I push down the nerves I feel and make my way onto the stage. When the music starts playing through speakers I don’t see, I block everyone in the audience out and just let the music flow through my body. Closing my eyes, I picture the man sitting front and center and imagine it’s him I’m dancing for; him and only him. It’s the only thing I can think to do in order to get through this.