Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
“Talent scouts? Agents?” I practically screamed. “Did you get a look at that crowd? Rednecks without a dollar to their name!” I shrieked. “I don’t care who’s in the crowd, even if it’s the head of NBC Studios himself. We can’t do this!”
“Shh,” hushed Lauren, looking around. “Careful what you say. Some of those ‘so-called’ rednecks are regulars, so don’t be a snob. Their money is just as good as anyone else’s. Besides, haven’t you heard of that expression ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’? This is it. Don’t judge the crowd just because they’re wearing overalls. You know, a lot of farmers are millionaires because of federal crop subsidies.”
That shut me up. Although I’m not an expert on agricultural reform, everybody knows that there’s real money in any business, so long as you know what you’re doing. Plus, look at me. I was hoping to make a pretty penny by dancing for dollars. So how could I judge someone just because they were gnawing on a stalk of hay? After all, I was part of the ninety-nine percent, doing whatever I could to stay afloat. So I kept my trap shut, aware that the conversation had veered off course.
“Listen, am I going to be dancing tonight?” I asked woodenly. Tuition was due next week, and maybe I could figure out some kind of payment program with the Trinity registrar. I hated the thought of asking for help, but there were no other options.
“Nah, Ralph says that he needs to talk with the producers first,” said Lauren casually, putting on the final touches to her make-up. “But I’m sure you’ll hear back, and soon you’ll be up on that pole, shaking that moneymaker,” she grinned devilishly. “Plus, it’s time for me to get my own moneymaker going,” she sang. “See you later, babe.”
And with that, Lauren pranced on stage, shimmying and jiggling like a real professional. Oh wait, I guess she is a professional. But my friend was damn good, swinging that long blonde hair, jiggling her boobies, and spreading her snatch for men to kiss and lick. Because the Donkey Club is a no-holds-barred type of place. Guys get to touch, feel and smell, fingering girls here and there, and pulling their dicks out as the girls circled around the crowd. I thought I even saw a girl seat herself in a customer’s lap, throwing her head back as his cock wormed into her from behind. But I couldn’t see very well so maybe it was my imagination. Frankly, I was so overwhelmed that my mind could have been playing tricks.
So I just observed that first night, my mouth hanging open at the utter debauchery of the Donkey Club. The bus ride was long and silent on the ride home, Lauren counting her money as I stared unseeing out the window. But as we pulled into the bus depot, my cell rang almost immediately.
“Melanie?” grunted a male voice. “This is Ralph. You auditioned for me tonight?” As if I could forget. “The directors like you and want you to fly to LA for an in-person interview,” he continued. “I booked you a ticket for tomorrow at 8 am, arriving in LA around noon. A car will meet you at the airport and take you straight to the set,” he said, before hanging up abruptly.
What the hell? Lauren hadn’t mentioned that there’d be another interview. Besides I had class tomorrow!
“Wait a minute,” I mumbled. “What …?”
But it was useless. Ralph had already hung-up, and he’d called from a blocked number which meant that I couldn’t call back and cancel.
“What was that?” asked Lauren, yawning. Her eyes were sleepy but her ears were alert.
“Nothing,” I said, looking down while tucking my cell phone back into my bag. But again, my friend is sharp.
“Was that Ralph?” she asked casually. “Because if it was, you know you have to say yes. Tuition’s due next week, and even if the school offers you a payment plan, you’re going to have to put something down by next week. What do you have in your bank account right now, Melanie? Fifty bucks? A hundred? Come on. Don’t be silly.”
I swallowed. I didn’t want to tell her that I had about two dollars in my checking account at the moment. So I merely nodded.
“I know,” was my quiet reply. “I will say yes. In fact, I already have.”
“Good,” she said, getting up and stretching. “Because otherwise the trip to New York was for nothing. And remember, girl, I’m here for you, got that? No matter what happens, you’re good enough, you’re brave enough, and you’re better than the others. This is just step one in our master plan, and it may be hard to execute, but you will. You will succeed, Melanie.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. I wanted to believe my friend, but at the same time, it was hard to believe that my life was taking such an indescribable turn. What would happen if my mom found out I was dancing for money? What would she say? And what would all my old friends from high school say if they knew? Or the new ones I’d made at Trinity?