Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Just one more time.
This flyer, it might very well be an answer. A quick fix. I need to do some research, but if all the rumors are true, exotic dancing, okay stripping, might be my ticket to at least paying rent and having clean clothes.
After unlocking the door, I let myself get used to the moldy smell. It only takes a few minutes for my nose to adjust to the odor.
Flipping on the light, I sink gratefully onto our small couch. Bella and I found it on a corner in West Hollywood. Some wealthy couple had sold their house, and we grabbed it right after the movers put it on the curb with a sign saying “Clean and free.”
Kicking off my jazz shoes, I wrinkle my nose. This is crazy. I have to do laundry. I’m a dancer for heaven’s sake. I can’t go around wearing dance clothes that smell.
“Screw this.” I pull out the paper. This is it—it’s a sign. The auditions are in two days and early in the morning.
God, I could make it. Grabbing my phone, I punch in the club’s name and smile at all the pictures that come up.
“Hello money,” I whisper. It looks classy and it’s in a trendy part of downtown.
“The Pussycat.” I test it out on my tongue. I wonder if it’s all nude or only topless? Whatever. I’m a professional dancer. If the rumors that these girls make half the money they supposedly make are true, I’m in.
Getting naked in front of people is no big deal. You can’t be shy in the dance world. You’re constantly getting undressed and dressed in front of people. Although I’ve never used a pole to dance, how hard can it be?
“Please let this be legit.” I close my eyes and breathe out. This is it. Like this could save me. I make my way to the bathroom and fill the sink with my vanilla shower gel, dumping in as many dance clothes and panties as it can hold.
My stomach growls, reminding me of the need to eat. I think I have an apple and a slice of pizza left over from earlier. I try hard to bring food home from work or eat it there. But it was Annie’s birthday two days ago and our manager had Dominos delivered.
As I nibble on cold pizza that tastes like cardboard, my mind searches my current wardrobe. I need something to audition with.
“Whatever.” I’ll wear a cute two-piece set. Black jazz shorts and a black cropped dance top. I’ll be the best dancer anyway. Who cares what I wear or look like? As soon as I get some cash coming in, I’ll invest in stuff.
It does say I need a dance routine and that I need to use the pole. Hmm.
I prop my right leg on the wall and stretch, my face touching my knee. I love the slight burn I feel whenever I stretch like this. What’s the last movie or show I saw that had strippers? I think J Lo was in one, but who has money for a movie? Not me.
Again, how hard can this be? I spin and prop my left leg on the sink.
Do I dare?
Of course I dare. After all, I’m me. Lowering my leg, I toss my half-eaten straw-like pizza into the trash can. Grabbing the apple, a glass of water, and my phone, I drop into bed.
It’s the one thing I kept from my old life. The bed is old, but the mattress was expensive. It’s the only good thing I own. Propping a pillow behind my head, I pull up YouTube. Instantly, I start laughing after I type Flashdance and watch the dancer in the movie. I need to be ready in two days. Not much time, but meh, sleep is overrated. I’ll catch up after I get this job.
I jump up. First I need to wring out my laundry and a take a shower. No matter what, I’m going to learn this routine and nail this audition.
ANTOINETTE
Present
“You want me to dance… for you?”
“Yeah, Cookie, I’d love you to dance for me.”
My pulse is pounding and not because I’ve been dancing. It’s because of this man. He’s hands down the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He has thick dark hair and his eyes… holy God. They’re blue, but not like light blue—I’m talking sapphire blue. Kind of ironic since that was supposed to be my stage name, but my brain froze. Went blank and Cookie came out.
I breathe in some air as I turn my head away from him. It’s either that or take a step back. And I don’t do that. Not even this tall, tattooed stranger can make me stand down. I never will. He seems to have the same thoughts since he hasn’t moved either.