To my left, a roped-off VIP section sits elevated from the rest of the floor. And back down the corridor I just came from are the private rooms. I don’t know what happens back there, and I don’t ask, though I've heard more than a few stories.
I’m not naïve. Illegal shit goes down inside of Wonderland every night. It’s a strip club in a seedy part of town. When I first started bartending here, Celeste told me to keep my head down, mouth shut and eyes open. I’d found that to be solid advice, and following it has kept me out of trouble.
Circling back to the main stage, I drop my bag on the floor, pulling my long, dark hair up into a ponytail to get it out of my face before pulling off my sweats. To practice, I’ve just worn tight black dance shorts and a sports bra with a lightweight cropped sweatshirt over it. I leave my feet bare, better to get the basics down before I go adding six-inch heels.
Taking a deep breath, I climb up onto the stage, stretching and shaking out my limbs before finally reaching for the pole. It’s cool under my fingertips, and it’s the kind that spins on its own, giving the illusion that you’re spinning around it but you’re really not.
I’ve had some aerial training, just so I could put it on my resume, but this shit is harder than it looks. Bruises pepper the insides of my thighs from the bit of pole work I did last night, and my abs are sore. At least dancing here will be a good workout.
I’m glad no one’s here because my first couple of attempts at lifting my body up on the pole are pathetic, to say the least. My muscles tremble with the strain, but I don’t stop. My near-toxic perfectionism doubles down until I’m able to do it. Again andagain I keep at it until it looks effortless, clean lines even Mr. Carr would have difficulty criticizing.
My stomach growls, and I check the time on my phone. I have just about an hour until everyone really starts showing up. I start packing up my bag to move to the dressing rooms. There, I can eat a couple of snacks I brought with me while getting ready for tonight.
Unease flutters through me as I turn down the still-dark back hallway. I’ve been here for over an hour, so it’s a little weird I still haven’t seen anyone around. As I get closer to the dancers’ dressing room, the male voices I heard earlier, grow louder.
They must be having a staff meeting or something.
The voices sound angry, so I stop. Anxiety creeps down into my chest, something about this just doesn’t feel right. Abandoning my progress down the hall, I back up, ready to retreat to the main floor and wait for some of the other girls to arrive, that is, until I hear crying.
I freeze.
“Shut. Up.” The sound of the smack reverberates in my ears, and the sobbing only grows louder. The sound of a girl’s terrified cries twists something in my gut, and I move cautiously toward the sound, tiptoeing down the hall.
The sound is coming from the next door down, which I can see is just barely cracked open.What if some guy has one of the dancers cornered in there?
I get as close as I dare, my ears straining to make out what the angry voices are saying. Trying to work out what it is I’m walking into…
“—on a flight tonight. Security will look the other way, so long as you bring cash.”
“And the others?” another voice asks.
Heart pounding, I inch closer to the door, desperately trying to steal a peek through the crack without whoever’s on the other side seeing me.
“The others,” I recognize Giovanni’s accent, “we’ll hold until the auction. They’re higher value.”
The girl sobs again, louder this time.
“Stop. You can’t hit her again! I have a standard to uphold. My buyers expect to receive their product in pristine condition.”
Buyers?
I stop trying to get closer, bringing a hand up to cover my mouth in order to silence the choking sound that escapes my throat.
I don’t know what the fuck I’ve stumbled into, but I know it’s bad. I should get the bouncers, call the cops, something… I move back rapidly, tripping over my own feet in my haste and practically crashing into someone.
My entire body stiffens at the contact, and I jolt away from them, twisting around to see who’s behind me. My initial panic lessens when I realize it’s Daniel behind me.A cop.Thank god.
I let out a breath of relief, but before I can explain the situation transpiring behind that door, Daniel reaches out, grabbing a fistful of my hair and propelling me backwards through the door before I realize what’s happening. I barely fight him off before he releases me just as suddenly as he grabbed me. My head smacks hard onto the concrete floor as I fall.
“You idiots can’t shut a fucking door?” Daniel huffs out, stalking back to slam the hallway door shut.
Peeling myself up off the ground, I find myself eye to eye with the girl I must have heard crying out in the hallway. Her red-rimmed eyes widen in terror as I take her in.
She’s shaking, wearing only her underwear, silver handcuffs on her wrists, linked to a thick silver collar around her neck.
I stare at the thick metal circle in shock, scrambling to get back on my feet. Every instinct in me screams,Run!
I only make it to my knees before a hand lands roughly on my shoulder, keeping me on the floor. A deep, aching sense of dread fills me, and I swallow hard, glancing up to find Marco, one of Giovanni’s guys, standing over me.
