Chapter Text
Lana Marlowe was early.
Like always.
With one finger hovering over her soon-to-chime alarm and the other patting the steering wheel of her 1972 Cutlass Supreme, Reba, she blinked into the twitch that had been persisting in her right eye for the last two days. Her blinking gaze lifted to the neon purple sign on top of the building boasting the name Honey, written like one would scrawl a note to a lover before dashing off to war.
Or work.
The silence of edge-of-the-city-not-quite-suburbs of Piltover felt eerie. The last week had been spent at a breakneck gallop as she mentally calculated all she’d done.
Leave Freedmont. Check.
Put 783 miles between her and David. Check.
Quit her old club, Style. Check.
Manage to apply to and get this audition. Check.
Find a basement apartment in an elderly woman’s home who was looking to make ends meet. Check.
Sitting here with no other action other than waiting for her audition felt like lying in bed after a day in the ocean, body rocked by a phantom momentum that felt just as trippy.
With a tilt of the rearview, she silently cheered for the concealer doing its best work to mask her sleeplessness. The beauty of this audition, though, was that it was bound to be dim and mysterious in there, allowing her to err on the side of eye bags. Plus, her silvery-white hair and bright green eyes usually gave her an extra boost when all else failed.
“Welp, this is gonna have to do it. Thanks, old girl. I promise to get you washed soon. I’m working very hard for us.” Then she paused, hoping this newfound talking to herself wasn’t the first sign of some kind of psychotic break.
She grabbed her bag, carefully making her way out of the car as she locked it up behind her. Reba looked like she’d cried off all her mascara, streaks of gritty dirt flanking either side of her baby blue paint job. She grimaced like an absentee mother who forgot their kid at day camp and turned away with another whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
The heels of her boots clacked on pristine parking lot asphalt. There wasn’t even a scrap of litter, a cigarette butt, nothing. Just a sheen from the rain that had passed through earlier. The sky winked and glittered like a real show off. Red sky at night, sailor’s delight – right?
Speakeasy was the first thing that came to mind when she approached the heavy black front door. A platinum gargoyle knocker sat in the middle of it, face severe and scowling. The ring in its mouth shined without a single fingerprint, so smudgeless that she felt bad about touching it to knock against the door. There were no windows to the club–not uncommon–but it looked so regal, like it had been dropped here just this morning. Nothing like Style and its leaking roof and rodent issues.
Before she could rap the impressive knocker again, a fair, freckled redhead with a face tattoo opened the door. Her hair was half shaved and piecey, artfully arranged to appear unruly. She was wearing a cut off leather vest, biceps firmly on display. Her face was purposeful as she looked Lana over, jaw squaring.
“Alana Marlowe?” She asked, checking a clipboard.
“Me,” Lana said, clearing her throat of the fear inside of it. “Just Lana though.”
The stern face broke, a smile spreading in its stead. “Violet–you can call me Vi. Gotta pat you down real quick before I let you in. Nice of you to be early, she likes that.” With that, Vi flicked her head behind her into the dimness of the club.
Lana handed over her bag and stood with her arms out as Vi respectfully patted her and searched her bag with a wand-like instrument.
“You are hella organized. Damn, I don’t even see lint in this bag.” Vi joked, handing the bag back.
That’s because it’s almost all I own right now.
“Hungry?” Vi asked. “Thirsty?”
A hurtling feeling deep in her stomach caused her to swallow hard at the thought of an unwelcome intrusion. “No thanks. Just anxious to get started.”
“Well come on in. Welcome to Honey,” Vi ushered Lana through the door, letting it fall with a slow, heavy thud behind them.
The air inside was like the breeze of the air conditioner from a beach bar on a hot summer day. Lana took in the orderly space, mostly done up in blacks and accents of deep red and steam-punk inspired copper and wiring. The lighting itself was soft, inviting, and the whole place smelled like the lobby of a fancy hotel. None of that stale beer and lingering smoke shit she was used to.
The inside wasn’t huge–big enough for a decent spread, but still intimate. Her eyes found the bar eventually. A gleaming slab of what looked like black marble. Behind it stood a pale woman with navy-purple hair, features that Lana had only ever seen in fashion magazines, and the raddest eye patch Lana had ever seen. She polished a glass, expression stern and far off. Vi waved wildly at her, and, upon seeing it, she returned the wave with a few fingertips.
“That’s Caitlyn,” Vi said with a flush over the apples of her cheeks.
Lana looked closer; the woman was wearing a pair of coveralls, a name patch that read “Vi” stitched over her left breast. “Your girlfriend, I bet?”
“How’d you know?” Vi seemed genuinely impressed as she led Lana through the club. “The other dancers won’t be here for like another hour or so. But let me show you the dressing room and talk about the house rules.”
“Of course,” Lana said as she followed Vi, feeling Caitlyn’s eyes on her without even seeing her.
What she felt like saying was that her heart was cold and dead inside but instead she followed Vi further into the club.
“Rule one–no boyfriend, girlfriend, partner drama,” Vi said as she pushed open a door marked “staff only.”
Lana barely registered the statement as she stepped into the dressing room. “Holy shit.”
This was more than just a few vanity stations and some ratty lockers. This looked like a high-end spa. Ambient music piped through hidden speakers. The walls were done in a light lavender shade with blanket-strewn couches and cozy arm chairs scattered artfully around. In the back of the room was a fridge, another door labeled “kitchen” and one labeled “showers.” Lana had never seen anything like this at any of the clubs she’d worked in before.
“Right? Vik’ goes all out.” Vi smirked as she reached into a bowl of mints, only to have her hand slapped by a woman who seemed to come out of nowhere.
“Violet,” the woman said. “What have I told you about stealing candy? And stop calling her ‘Vik. She hates it.”
Lana looked up at the impressive form of a muscular woman whose umber complexion boasted faint scars across her stern features. Her white hair was braided and pulled back neat as a pin, giving her the appearance of a meticulously forged mountain. She crossed her arms, sending thick forearms forward from the cuffed sleeves of her impeccable red button down.
“Hey, Ambessa? Have you ever considered chilling out? Even for like one second?” Vi asked as she put the mint back. “This is Lana. She’s auditioning today.”
Ambessa’s ambivalent gaze swept over her, features imperceptible as she read her with machine-like efficiency. “I think you’ll do nicely. As Vi said, I’m Ambessa. Shifts start at 9, you should plan to report by 7:30.”
Ambessa’s militant presence and no-bullshit attitude reminded her of her own mother. God rest her soul. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Your locker is right here. I just finished cleaning it. There’s a strict no shimmer policy here. You are agreeing to random search by employment, should Sevika accept you.” Ambessa held her hand out toward the locker. “Additionally, no drinking with clients. It’s a liability.”
“Of course. I don’t do shimmer.” Lana shivered slightly, a flash of fists and purple echoing in her mind’s eye. “And I’m good on the drinking, too.”
“Also, we don’t sleep with clients in the club or otherwise,” Ambessa continued. “If you forget everything else I’ve said to you tonight–don’t forget this.”
“That won’t be a problem.” Lana agreed. “This club is prestigious. I would never jeopardize it.” “You say that now,” Ambessa chuckled. “On that note, no drama. Sevika doesn’t tolerate it, and neither do I for that matter. We have our resident drama with some of our staff.” She cleared her throat and looked pointedly at Vi.
“Hey, what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Vi’s brows furrowed as she held up her hands.
“It means Sevika owed Vander a great favor and is seemingly going to repay it through this lifetime and the next.” Ambessa rolled her eyes. “Anyway, Lana. The fridge is fair game. Feel free to help yourself before your audition. And do let me know if we’re out of anything.”
“Could I get a fizzy water, Ambessa?” Vi asked with a toothy grin.
“Violet–” Ambessa pinched her nose. “Your very capable girlfriend should be able to fashion a water for you that doesn’t belong to my girls.”
Lana giggled at that, earning the slightest of smiles from Ambessa.
“As I was saying,” Ambessa said. “Showers are through the door. Everyone must be out of the club by 4 am. One of the staff escorts you to your car each shift end. No exceptions.”
“Thank you, ma’am. It all seems very standard.”
“Used to this, then?” Ambessa asked as she handed Lana a freshly laundered towel and washcloth, folded perfectly.
“I’ve danced as long as I could.” Lana said as she accepted the items, sandwiching them between her palms like they were going to break if she dropped them. She did not need Ambessa thinking she was inept on top of the normal newbie distrust. “Needed a change of scenery,” she added quickly.
Ambessa was silent for a moment before she plucked a few mints from the bowl. “Welcome. I hope it works out.” She handed the candies to Lana who stashed them in her purse for later.
Vi bounced on the balls of her feet, fizzing over with the energy of a teenage boy. “Alright, Lana, you can change around back if you’re planning to for the number. Then I’ll walk you up to Sevika.”
“A tip, dear.” Ambessa cleared her throat. “Speak when spoken to. Do as she asks. Respect her and I assure you, you will be respected tenfold.”
“Of course,” Lana said, feeling much like a broken record. “Thank you, Miss Ambessa.”
There was that ghost of a smile again.
~*~
Lana examined herself in the mirror, rubbing another swath of glittered lotion across her chest. A few nervous fingers flitted over her hair, the long, silvery waves falling past her breasts and behaving for once. Her normally olive-tinged skin still held onto its tan, though summer was quickly scampering away with each cool evening.
Fussing with the lace around the cups of her dark purple bra, she turned to the side, ensuring the matching panties showed glimmers of her body while still leaving enough to the imagination. Over top, she belted a sheer black wrap that fell just below her ass. Finally, she stepped into her heels. High and black. A perfect accent to the sultry tones of the club.
Auditions were always the same. Some fat cat owner sitting behind a desk, barely paying attention, and usually already drunk. Steeling herself with Ambessa’s advice, she let out another breath.
“Five minute warning,” Came Vi’s voice behind the partition to the changing room.
“I’m ready,” Lana said as she pushed back the curtain.
Vi gave her a wide smile. “You look great. She’s gonna like you; I have a good feeling.”
Wages were far higher on her list than being liked as she followed past Vi, trying to take deep sips of the air without being obvious. Vi whistled the whole way down through the back of the club, unclipping a red velvet rope with a “No Access” plaque hanging from a bronze ring. The carpeting was so lush and thick that Lana couldn’t even hear her own footsteps on it, the odd soundless vibrations calming her ever-so-slightly. They walked across a catwalk then down a dim hallway, with honest to fuck sconces on the wall with oil lamps burning.
Lana had officially seen it all. These pig-headed owners just got douchier by the day.
Finally, they came to a door with that same gargoyle style knocker, though this one was made of gold and had a ring through its nose, a fancy “S” sitting right above it.
Vi knocked three times with the brass ring.
“Come in,” Came a deep, muffled voice.
Vi opened the door, holding it for Lana. “Sevika, this is Lana. She’s auditioning today.”
Lana was expecting some greasy, pompous asshole to be sitting behind the desk. In all of her googling and Yelp reviewing, she never thought to look up the owner of the club. Maybe if she had, her mouth wouldn’t have dropped open like some damned cartoon fish.
The woman sitting at the desk had her head bowed over a small stack of papers, a pencil between her teeth which somehow remained unmarred from the black lipstick on her full mouth. She had a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose and a furrow between her meticulously sculpted thick eyebrows.
Her hair was short and dark with a few strands of silver through it, curling at the ends just under her jaw and slicked back with pomade. Her rich brown skin bore a few scars here and there but otherwise glowed with warm, sienna undertones. Her face was…fucking breathtaking; sharp featured– a strong jaw with high cheekbones, a statement of a nose. Her eyes flicked upward and Lana felt a slosh of something in her stomach. She wasn’t expecting those soft eyes behind all of that eyeliner. What color were they? gray? Blue?
Without a flinch, Sevika dropped the pencil into her fingers and set it on the desk along with her glasses. It was then that Lana caught the gleaming metal prosthesis nestled under her knit black t-shirt. She snapped her eyes away from it as she watched the woman rise to her full height.
Lana wasn’t a short woman, usually clocking in around 5’6” on a good day, and especially not in her work heels, but Sevika made her feel like she was looking up at a tower. Sevika smiled tersely at her, no teeth, as she nodded.
“Alana Marlowe,” Sevika said, pulling open a paper file. “Stage name?”
“Just Lana.”
Sevika gave a nod, writing something down on what Lana had to assume was her application. “Nice to meet you.” She said, bringing that gaze back around.
Lana realized then she had been staring at the scarring up Sevika’s neck and against her jaw, her brain playing the sounds of an old school dial-up internet connection. “I – sorry, I’m a little nervous, I suppose. Nice meeting you.”
Did people actually look like this in real life?
“That’s good, that means you have humility.” Sevika gruffed. “You need a water? Shot of whiskey?”
“No–ma’am?” Sir? Lana said felt Vi laugh beside her.
“I’ll leave you two to it. Buzz me when you’ve decided.” Giving a flippant salute, Vi stuffed her hands in her pockets and headed out the open door, kicking the stopper out of the way and letting it fall into place behind her.
“Sevika is fine.” Her voice was commanding, each syllable spoken methodically, carefully. “Turn for me, please. Slowly.”
Lana hadn’t felt anything other than the queasy warble of fear in her guts for a very long time. Long enough for her to be baffled by the blush heating her cheeks. It made sense, though. Maybe her body had finally settled down enough to start registering other, attractive people. That’s all this was. Sleepy. Stupid. Hormones.
Lana stepped carefully as she braced her core and slowly began to move in a circle. The spin-around allowed her to take in all of Sevika’s office. Dark purple, almost black, walls adorned with blueprints and specs, a posh liquor cart with crystal glassware and bottles Lana had only ever seen on the highest shelves. An oiled leather sofa, a coffee table with a box of cigars that looked imported, a fireplace, and a safe nestled in the corner. A gun safe, no doubt, judging by its size .
“That’s good.” Sevika said. “Can the cover-up come off? If you’re not comfortable, that’s ok.”
“Of course.” Lana shrugged it off and let it fall off her shoulders.
Sevika’s metal fingertips snatched it before it hit the ground, then she draped it daintily over her metallic forearm.
The care in that gesture stunned Lana momentarily. “So where do you want me to dance? Lap dance? Up here? Do you prefer to see me on the pole or?”
“Dealer’s choice,” Sevika said as she gently draped the sheer overlay over the back of the chair in front of her desk. “You want to dance for me? Or dance like you’re on stage? I don’t have a pole up here, but more than happy to take you back downstairs for that.”
“I’ll dance for you,” Lana said too quickly, kicking herself for her ill-timed impulsivity. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”
Sevika nodded once, her eyes never leaving Lana’s. “Do you know what the rules are for clients?”
“Sex,” Lana gasped at herself, keenly aware of how close she was to blowing this. Sevika did not even flinch. “No sex. Touching on the hips and outer thighs only. If I tell you to stop, you stop. No questions.”
Sevika made her way back over to her desk chair, settling into it. The way the back of it rose up made Sevika look like she was sitting on a throne, and honestly, it made sense to Lana who had only met this woman five seconds ago.
“Good,” Sevika said, eyeing Lana expectantly. “We’ll run through this like you would in VIP with a client.”
“Okay. You mean like fully lean in?” Lana could feel the back of her neck prickle with sweat.
“Yeah, whatever you’re comfortable with,” Sevika said as she templed her fingers.
“Alright. Could you play me something? Something bass-y, maybe a little slow. I’m just gonna go all in, then, pretend you’re a client. But tell me to stop if it’s too much, okie doke?”
“Okie doke,” Sevika said, tone flat with somewhat of an edge to it. Lana earned that. What kind of grown woman said okie-doke in an audition at a high-end strip club.
Every item in this room had a place, it seemed. Sevika carefully pulled open a desk drawer and produced a small remote. She clicked a few buttons and soon a familiar SZA mashup, track laid mostly with Saturn, started through the speakers nestled in the corners of the room.
The music shook her out of whatever stupefaction happened upon walking into this office. With a deep breath, she listened for the slow, dreamy beat and timed her struts over to Sevika with them. The nerves melted away as she approached, Sevika sitting with perfect posture, clearly unimpressed by something she saw all day every day, strumming her metal fingertips against the arm of the chair.
Why, oh why, did that make Lana want to work even harder?
The song transitioned into its slow, bassy beat and Lana laid her hands over Sevika’s shoulders, clenching her jaw at the boulder-like strength of both the right and left. She let her gaze flick up toward the ceiling to stop herself from doing something very stupid, like making bedroom eyes.
What brought her back to earth was the way Sevika smelled. Expensive. Her cologne was bespoke–Lana would know, she’d smelled enough of the cheap stuff. There was a faint but not unpleasant smell of cigars. A herbaceous zing of ayurvedic soap. Sevika shifted, widening her knees as she leaned back, eyes soft and unfocused on Lana.
Usually, Lana wanted to eliminate as many senses as possible from lap dances, but the warm, solid form beneath her had her reconsidering this. She finally allowed herself to study those eyes before her, marveling. gray. Definitely gray. But within them was a flickering of sadness. One that Lana recognized from doing this for so long.
“You like what you see?” Lana husked into Sevika’s ear, an attempt to distract her, sliding her hands over each of Sevika’s. Then to her hips.
Sevika gave a wry, unimpressed chuckle in response as her thumbs tapped once against Lana’s skin, a reminder that this was for show. The metal one was warmer than she anticipated it to be. Her hands were much larger than Lana’s, manicured but strong, the edges of her thumb and the pads of her hand rough like she threw barbells in her spare time.
“You a shy one, darlin’?” Lana asked as she dragged her nails softly against Sevika’s cheek, playing up the twang of her accent. “I like shy.”
Sevika shifted underneath her and Lana waited for her to toss her out the door and down the steps. When nothing happened, Lana kept her lips closed as she carefully turned around, hovering over Sevika’s lap as she snaked an arm around the back of her neck. She ghosted the acrylic tips of her nails up through the back of Sevika’s thick hair, feeling her tense underneath her again. She could not blame her. Bodies were still bodies and hers was acting like a real asshole right now, anyway.
Sevika’s hands moved from her hips to her outer thighs, giving her more room to drop to the crotch of Sevika’s pants, grinding her ass in a figure-eight as she did. There was not an ounce of disrespect in anything Sevika did. She was calm, passive almost. Lana reached a hand behind her back to undo her bra.
“They pay extra for that here,” Sevika said as she stilled Lana’s hand. “So if you’re with a client and they ask for that, and you want to do it, you get the money first. Understood?”
“Understood,” Lana said, equal parts excited and embarrassed that she’d gone all in on this. She wanted to ask Sevika if she’d like to pay extra but she was determined not to let her cocky impulsivity wreck this moment. This woman seemed like she didn’t suffer one ounce of bullshit and Lana was determined not to go there. Instead, she turned again, bending over in front of Sevika and taking her time in rising back up. Sevika dropped her hands after that.
“And if they’re creeping you out, you say no. Handsy clients are swiftly dealt with. Every lap dance room has a little white light switch. You flip it, one of us will come in.”
Lana turned back around, arms over those shoulders again as her fingers came up to trace the edge of Sevika’s gold chain warm against her neck.
“Yes, ma’am.” Lana said.
“Not ma’am,” Sevika said, subtly shrugging out of the touch. “Sevika. Last time I’ll tell you that.”
“Got it,” Lana said as she stood back up, stepping back from Sevika’s space with that seasick feeling in her stomach that she had just royally fucked up. “That’s the end of the song.”
Sevika nodded dismissively. “You can’t get that familiar right away. You gotta keep some distance. Hands on the chairs, not the clients. They get a boner, literally or figuratively, and get stupid.”
“I’m sorry,” Lana said. “You should have stopped me. I didn’t mean to be untoward.”
Sevika held up a hand and laughed loudly for a moment. The unabashed boom rumbled through Lana. The fuck was happening?
“Untoward.” She chewed the word and shook her head. “I know you were trying to impress me, but you need to know this. You can take anyone to VIP and do that and go home with fat pockets, I assure you. Been doing this a while. Ambessa gave you the low down, I’m guessing? You knew the golden rule.” She stood again, then eyed Lana before pointing to the seat in front of her desk. “Sit.”
Lana watched Sevika walk over to the bar cart, selecting a crystal decanter of whiskey and two rocks glasses. She used two fingers to carry them over to her desk, while she tucked the decanter into the crook of her arm. The smoothness of her movements allowed Lana to focus instead on the veins running across her forearm.
She needed to be sprayed with water like a misbehaving cat.
“She did. No drama. No drugs. No drinking with clients. No sex with clients in the club or preferably otherwise.”
Sevika’s eyes bore into Lana’s at that one. “Exactly. No sex in this club. We’re not a brothel, we’re a dance club. We got a real antsy lawman named Maddie who loves to make sure we’re following the rules. You see her, you treat her like she’s St. Peter at the gates of heaven. Blonde. Face pinched like she’s been sucking lemons.”
“I’m not religious,” Lana said with a laugh. “But I think I get it.”
“You’ll learn that I’m not joking and since you’re green here I’ll let that pass. You got a good instinct it seems like. Got a good look.” With that she gave a subtle once-over. “Your references checked out. I assume you’ll do fine.” Sevika slid one of the heavy tumblers toward Lana. “Cheers to employment, Lana. Welcome to Honey.”
Too shocked to speak that her little display hadn’t landed her back in the parking lot, Lana raised the glass and tipped it toward Sevika. “Thank you. I appreciate the opportunity to dance for Honey.” Then, she gave her best posed smile and tipped the whiskey back. The burn helped ease the trip-hammer of her heart.
Sevika downed hers in one smooth gulp. “This is likely the last time you’ll be up here unless I'm firing you. This room is off limits unless you’ve been summoned. You have a 60-day probationary period. I’ll be observing some of your sets. Three strikes and you’re out. No questions asked. We’re fair, but we’re not chumps. Good?”
“Yes,” Lana said as she stood. “Thank you.”
Back on her feet, Sevika held a hand out in a polite signal for Lana to depart. As Lana grasped her overlay, she felt Sevika take it, holding it out so she could shrug back into it. Lana turned, fingers moving to wipe some of the transferred glitter off of Sevika’s shoulder.
The way that metal hand snatched her own made her jump.
“You have some glitter. I–um, I’m sorry. I should have asked.”
“You should have.” Sevika said as she dropped Lana’s hand, brushing the glitter off with a flick of her fingers.
Vi opened the door with impeccable timing, another one of those sweet smiles waiting for Lana. “Welcome aboard!”
Sevika’s jaw set as she folded her arms across her chest. “Good night, Miss Lana. Violet.”
~*~
Back at the bar, Lana sipped the Diet Coke that Caitlyn had poured for her as she replayed the whole interaction. Caitlyn had given her a friendly but terse introduction as she moved about her prep. Lana didn’t need a babysitter, but she did need to collect herself. Her face burned with the thought of how much of her ass she just showed–literally and figuratively.
“So, whadja think?” Violet said, as she hopped up onto the barstool next to Lana.
“She’s very–”
“Difficult? Boorish?” Cait supplied from her lime-quartering. “My advice? Stay out of her way and off her radar.”
“She’s not that bad,” Vi said. “She’s just broody. Dark and mysterious type. Kinda like me.”
Caitlyn laughed at that, shaking her head. “That’s what you think, darling. Instead, everything is right out on your sleeves at all times.”
“I’m not even wearing sleeves,” Vi said, as she leaned across the bar to peck Caitlyn’s cheek.
“She is hard to read. Expressionless almost. It’s terrifying. She could be an assassin.” Lana shuddered, trying to shake the way those hands felt on her hips. Reminding herself with mantra-like persistence that this was work, work, work, work, work, work.
“She’s definitely killed people,” Vi said. “At least, we all suspect. Silco didn’t exactly run the best operation here before her.”
“She has done nothing of the sort. You all and your hen-house gossip,” Caitlyn huffed. “While incredibly stoic, she is the reason we’re all still employed. Don’t listen to her, Lana.”
“She did try to crush my hand when I tried to brush glitter off her shoulder.” Lana said. “Moved so fast I didn’t even register it.”
“Glitter?” Caitlyn mused.
“Yeah, I think it transferred when I was dancing for her. I did grip her shoulders for a moment. I feel like I really went far overboard but hey, here I am employed.”
Caitlyn and Vi shared a look followed by a long pause. Vi broke the silence, voice in a low whisper. “Wait, you danced for her?”
“Yeah, she gave me the choice.” Lana sipped her soda. “I picked my strong suit.”
“Interesting,” Cait said with a smirk. “Don’t go telling the others that.”
“What? Why not?” Lana asked.
Vi chuckled softly. “Sevika’s kinda famously not very touchy. I’ve been trying to get her to high five me for the last four years.”
“Seriously?” Lana felt her stomach flip at that news. Equal parts intrigued and terrified. “Should I be worried about her?”
“Sevika?” Vi laughed out loud. “You’ll probably never even see her again. My two cents? She thinks you’re pretty. Plus, you have cool hair. She felt like maybe stepping outside her comfort zone. It’s great. Maybe the fucking stick up her ass will finally dislodge.”
“She assuredly thinks you’re attractive,” Cait said, glowering at Vi softly. “You have a different look than the girls here. More wholesome? Don’t take this the wrong way but you look farm-raised–”
Lana nearly spit her drink at the succinct way Cait had summed her up after knowing her for thirty whole minutes. “I do come from a farm, actually. Well, I grew up on one.”
“Yes. The women here are all very beautiful, but they’re beautiful like the hilt of a poison-tipped dagger. You are pretty like sunshine. Hay bales and the like.”
“Damn, cupcake. Don’t go giving your woman a complex, now.” Vi said as she rolled her eyes.
“I don’t mean it sexually. It’s factual.” Cait shrugged. “We look out for each other here.”
“So I should take this as a compliment?” Lana asked, draining her glass. “And not like she’s sizing me up to be her next murder victim?”
Caitlyn sighed loudly.
“Absolutely. It usually takes her about an hour to deliberate. She buzzed me the green light like ten minutes after I dropped you off.” Vi shrugged. Lana hadn’t even noticed that happened. “But, look, I gotta get to the door. Ambessa has the set order. Have a good first night. Please don’t steal my girlfriend.”
Which earned her a thwack from Cait’s bar towel.
“Good luck, Lana.”
~*~
Newbies typically went first, so Lana was not surprised when she found herself looping an easy spin around the pole at 9:17 pm. There weren’t many people here yet, but those that were gave her a curious, interested sort of look.
The beautiful part of dancing for almost ten years was that there was a sort of meditative state that she fell into as she let herself get lost in the music. So in her own little world, she was surprised to see the bills that had been tossed on stage while she surrendered to the thumping bass and shook off some of her rust.
A few times throughout her numbers, she climbed the pole and bent backward from it, using the excuse to look back at the catwalk to Sevika’s office, wondering if she’d ever see the woman again.
Once her three songs had passed and her tips were collected, the bar began filling up. Folks in fresh business suits and work attire. Some already deep into their cups. And some who had probably never stepped foot in a place like this. Caitlyn had come to life behind the bar, mixing drinks like she had been doing it her whole life. Flourishing the shaker, setting cocktails on fire. This absolutely was a different world than Style and that gratitude carried Lana through the rest of her dances.
Ambessa was serious about keeping them all fed. Tonight’s delicious meal was chicken and biscuits which Lana ate like a starving man. She’d been subsisting mostly on turkey jerky and poptarts in her trek across the country and this might have been the best thing she’d eaten in weeks. Upon telling Ambessa, the woman responded with a wink and a “flattery will get you everywhere,” as she set aside some leftovers from Lana.
Over the course of the night, Lana met the other five dancers. There was Pearl, the most senior of the bunch. Rivet, short and spunky with a penchant for loud, boisterous sets. Lilly, a tall redhead with a full body tattoo of a cobra. Evan, lithe and graceful like a ballerina, and Athena, whose muscular body looked like she had the same training regiment as Ambessa and Sevika combined.
Lana understood the trepidation from the group. The tight smiles sent her way as she tried to introduce herself. These sorts of things were a close knit family. And she could tell the other women here were happy. They had the carefree air of talent who weren’t worried for their safety. They were right to distrust her for now. She had barged into their already perfectly balanced ecosystem.
At the end of the night, she sat at one of the vacant vanities, counting her tips and feeling some of the tension melt away from her. If she kept this up, she’d assuredly make rent and have enough leftover to start saving for the month after.
One by one, the rest of the dancers left, escorted out in small groups or alone. Pearl lingered the longest, handing Lana a bottle of mineral water and a gentle smile before heading out. Lana felt the gesture melt some of the ice as she took a deep breath. She wrote Ambessa a quick “thank you for everything today” on a napkin and slid it through the slots of her locker before taking her plate of leftovers and heading out beside Vi.
Vi led her over to her car in comfortable silence, patting the front of it like a dad as Lana drove off.
While she’d been to the basement apartment she would be rented for the time being for a few days now, driving home to it felt like the balm her aching soul needed. Having a place that she looked forward to after a shift was novel. And yet, here she was, driving down dark, tree lined neighborhood streets until she reached the charming little house.
Home.
Her apartment was as she left it. Tidy. Quiet. Filled with her most essential possessions, her brand new bed, and the cozy charm of Mrs. Stephens’ comfy yet dated furniture. And as she locked up, got ready for bed, and crawled into the freshly laundered sheets, the last thing she thought of were those beautiful gray eyes.