Midnight Ballerina (3 page)

I was really working myself up. I probably wouldn’t even get the job. I had zero experience. I didn’t even consider myself sexy. My inner stripper only made appearances in the privacy of my apartment when certain songs were blaring out of my IPod or I was extremely drunk. While that involved slutty dancing that would make my mom faint, it didn’t include taking my clothes off. Ever.

Well, I might as well get it over with. I opened the car door, smoothing out the sundress I paired with a jean jacket and colorful heels that would make Amelia proud. They were actually hers. I found them shoved in my closet, probably put there after a night out, and decided to use them. I really didn’t know what was appropriate to wear to this kind of interview. If I showed up in nothing, I’m sure that would be even better.

I opened the front entrance door, thankfully finding it unlocked, and blinked a few times as my eyes adjusted to the dark interior. This was the first time I was stepping into a strip club, it just wasn’t really my type of scene. It didn’t look too different from one of the many bars near campus, other than the stage with the glistening silver poles lining it. They actually looked like fun; of course, if I saw a bunch of guys crowded around my mind might change.

“Can I help you?” a voice called from the back and hesitantly, I took a step in that direction.

“Um…I’m here for…an interview.”

“Oh, right.” A man stepped out from behind the bar, draining the contents of the glass he held in one hand, before sticking his other toward me. He wasn’t what I expected when I thought of who would interview me. I pictured some sleazy, greasy-haired guy with gold chains around his neck in a cheap suit, showing off plenty of grizzly-like chest hair. This guy reminded me of my dad in a weird way. He just looked like a normal, blue-collared guy wearing a pair of dress slacks and a collared shirt, his smile seeming genuine and his eyes remaining steady with mine. I expected him to be checking me out the whole time to see if my body was worthy enough for the job.

“The name’s Randy. I run the place. And you must be….” He looked down at a clipboard I hadn’t noticed before, squinting his eyes at the piece of paper. “Monroe?” It came out as more of a question than anything and I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

My name was definitely unique and almost always met with a weird response when I was first introduced to someone. I guess if you were from Michigan, you might have heard of it, and if my siblings were with me, Holland and Jackson, then you would probably be making assumptions pretty quickly. My parents either just really loved the cities in Michigan that we were named after, or we were conceived there. We still didn’t know the truth and I doubt we ever would—nor did we want to.

“Yup, that’s me,” I responded, letting his warm hand engulf mine briefly, and then he started the interview.

I answered the few questions he had for me as best as I could. The nerves were really getting to me as he continued on but I somehow answered him. I tried to keep my eyes focused on him, but they strayed a few times when I occasionally heard movement throughout the club, and saw what I assumed were…employees. I had no clue what I was doing. Those women looked like they belonged. Okay, yeah, I was being completely stereotypical, and I didn’t normally like to be that way, but I couldn’t help it. The few that came in ranged from gorgeous to sexy to a little on the trashy side, with too much makeup and not enough clothes, even when they were just showing up to work.

“So, you don’t have any experience?” My attention snapped back to Randy. I shrugged my shoulders. He’d already asked this question before but apparently, he wasn’t happy with my answer.

“Well, no…but I’ve danced for most of my life in a studio. I helped instruct the younger dancers sometimes, too, when they needed extra help.” Dancing was second nature to me and one of my true loves in life. I kept up with it once I moved to Georgia until I lost my job at the sandwich job, then I simply couldn’t afford for any studio time at the small dance company I had found any more. The important bills had to come first.

“Really?” His brows shot up. “What type?”

“Ballet,” I replied and his eyes lit up.

“You would be surprised how well that can be used in this business.” He tapped his fingers on the clipboard once. “When do you think you can start?”

“Wh-at?” I stammered. “You’re hiring me? I have zero experience. Why would you hire me?”

“Are you trying to talk me out of giving you a job?” I shook my head in response, even though that’s exactly what I was doing. “Look, the customers here will love your look.” His eyes raked over my body. “With your porcelain skin, long dark hair, tiny little body, and those wide, innocent looking green eyes, they’ll be lining up. A little on the short side, but nothing a taller pair of heels won’t fix.” I backed up a step, uncomfortable after he finished his…assessment of me.

“You know what? I don’t think this was a good idea. I’m just gonna go.” I spun around, heading straight toward the front entrance as quickly as I could in my stupid, high heels. I knew this was a bad idea. Why did I come here?

The interview had actually gone pretty well and Randy seemed like a genuinely good person, until he brought up my ‘look,’ whatever the hell that meant. Gah. I would just have to crawl back to Michigan—actually more like hitchhike since I couldn’t even afford to put gas in my car. Yup, it sounded like a wonderful plan: go back to living at Mom and Dad’s, letting everyone know that I failed. Awesome.

“You’ll make a ton of money; it could really help you out,” Randy called after me just as my hand landed on the door. I froze for a second, but didn’t turn around. I knew strippers could make boatloads of cash, the main reason I came today, but the reality of it hit me at his words. I couldn’t really do it. “Listen, we can work something out. I hate to see someone struggling and I can tell you are. Have you ever waitressed before?”

“Yes,” I answered hesitantly, turning around slowly only to jump back a step at the realization Randy was only a few feet away.

“Well, I have a proposition for you, then. How ‘bout you start off as a cocktail waitress? That way you can get comfortable working in this environment, and then I can you hook you up with a few of my girls to teach you all of the ins and out of the business. The money’s not as great, but you can rack the hours up and it won’t affect your school schedule. You’re a student, right?”

I nodded my head, letting out a deep breath and relaxing a bit. Randy seemed to want to help me out, maybe he was one of the good guys after all.

He grinned widely, clapping his hands together. “See? Works perfectly. What do ya think?”

I didn’t answer him right away because I had no clue what my answer was. I ticked off each of my bills in my head, thinking about my bare cabinets and empty fridge, weighing all of the pros and cons. I could always start off as a cocktail waitress and continue to look for another job, finding another one before Randy expected me to get up there and start twirling around on the pole. He didn’t need to know that.

Randy shifted on his feet. “I need a decision now. I have a few more girls coming in that actually have experience, so if you’re not—”

“Do I have to be naked?” I interrupted.

He chuckled, but shook his head. “That would make all of my dreams come true.” My mouth dropped open and he quickly cleared his throat. “I mean, no. First of all, we serve alcohol here to get more bang for our buck, so our policy here is that the girls aren’t completely nude, really no different than being in a skimpy bikini. Second of all, the cocktail waitresses cover up…for the most part,” he added. “So, I need your answer.”

“I’ll do it,” I blurted out, forcing myself to stop overthinking the situation and just take the chance, for probably the first time in my life. I guess there was a first time for everything.

“That a girl.” He patted my back. “Let’s go to my office and we’ll get a few papers taken care of, then you’ll be all set. You’re gonna love working here.”

“WHAT’S YOUR ISSUE today? Are you still worrying about the whole money situation?” Amelia frowned, setting her pen down as she shut her book and hopped off the futon that was in her dorm room. Every time I came over, I was still surprised that she actually
wanted
to live in the dorms.

“It was all a part of the experience,” she explained whenever I brought it up. Being in our third year in school, you would think she had enough of the “experience,” but not according to Amelia. She talked about moving into her sorority house after the semester was over, but I wasn’t so sure that would be much of an upgrade. Sure, I made a few friends through Amelia since the sorority scene was super big around here, but most of them tended to be a little stuck up if you weren’t a part of their crowd. And I most definitely wasn’t—no matter how many times Amelia tried to convince me how “fabulous” it was.

“No, I’m fine, just having an off day.” I rubbed at my already heavy eyes, knowing that whole situation wouldn’t get any better. I still had a long night ahead of me.

“Look.” She pointed to the bed that sat on the opposite side of the room. It was neatly made and didn’t contain one piece of clothing, unlike Amelia’s. “Trina hasn’t been here in days, like usual. The offer still stands to just move in here. Wouldn’t it be so much fun to live together?”

“Um….” My lack of enthusiasm about the idea of rooming together caused her to glare at me with one hand placed on her jutted out hip. “It’s not that I wouldn’t want to live with you but—”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re stubborn. You’re an independent girl who doesn’t need help from anyone. Blah. Blah. Blah. I’ve heard it all before, Roe. But money doesn’t grow on trees, and last time I checked you have like none. So time for a reality check.”

“Actually,” I began, thinking for a nanosecond that I should just tell her the truth about my new job, but then I thought better of it. Amelia always thought of the stripper job as a joke, nothing more. If she knew where I was going tonight, she would probably get as far away from me as possible, never to be seen or heard from again. “My mom sent me some money,” I lied.

“What?” Her perfectly plucked eyebrows shot up. “You finally broke down and told her?”

“Well, yeah. I was about to get kicked out of my apartment. She loaned me some money. I’ll pay it back as soon as I can.” If Amelia knew anything about my family’s money situation, she would know that was a complete and total lie, but it wasn’t something I just blabbed about.

“Awesome!” A bright smile lit up her face. “So, that means you should be in a good mood, which also means you’re coming to the party at the sorority house tonight, right?”

“Nope,” I quickly answered and Amelia’s shoulders sagged.

“Oh come on, Roe. I know you don’t like that type of thing, but you’ll have fun. I promise. Oh, I know!” She paused, clapping her hands together. “We’ll stay for an hour and then we can go bar hopping. I know that’s more your thing and we haven’t done it in forever.”

Amelia knew me all too well. I tried to avoid the sorority parties as much as possible because ninety percent of the people there looked at you like trash if you weren’t part of their crowd. The first time I went to one, I felt like going and crying in the corner. I think I had been to a total of four parties during high school, so it was definitely intimidating. Instead of letting Amelia drag me to parties, I explored the downtown area and fell in love. Yes, the nightlife was shocking, what with all the bars around. If you weren’t careful, you could quickly turn into an alcoholic with the overabundance of liquor everywhere. I just liked the atmosphere and the music scene was pretty decent.

“Um…I can’t. Sorry.” I started packing up my bag, noticing the time on my phone, and moved a little quicker so I could run home to change. I spotted my hands shaking slightly, so I needed to get out of there before Amelia questioned me even more.

“What? Why? Fine, I’ll skip the party.”

“Amelia, I know you have to go to those things. I actually have a job interview.” More lies. Ugh. I hated lying, especially to Amelia, and my stomach instantly knotted. She was the most trustworthy person I knew and the best friend I ever had.

“Really? That’s awesome. Why’s it so late though? Is it at one of those twenty-four hour diners or something?”

“Or something,” I replied, quickly heading to the door before she could grill me about my answer. “I’ll call you in the morning. Maybe we can meet up for lunch.”

“Sounds good,” she called after me. “Good luck at your interview!”