I spend my days surrounded by social media influencers and movie stars. Clients who have lived ten lifetimes of wild experiences I can’t even begin to imagine.
Meanwhile, I’m about to turn thirty and have never done anything remotely reckless and I want to live a little. I want to feel a rush of adrenaline that doesn’t have to do with winning a case.
Maybe I'll decide this was pointless and crawl back into my carefully curated world tomorrow morning but at least I’ll have the memories.
“Okay,” Amelia says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “I’m going to check our position. You wait here. I’ll wave when it’s your turn to join me at the curtain.”
I nod, my head bobbing like a nervous puppet as my foot picks up its’ bouncing. Beneath the silk robe, my skin is slick with sweat, even though the air in the club is chilly. I’m woefully unprepared, brimming with self-doubt, and certain I’ve set myself up for a catastrophic failure or at least some serious embarrassment.
Amelia disappears, and the second I’m alone, my body is threatening to take off in the opposite direction.
Normally, I’m the picture of composure. In the courtroom I’m calm, calculated and serious, even if I’m nervous on the inside. But here I feel like I’d rather retake the bar exam than step foot on that stage full of strangers expecting a show.
Just as my anxiety peaks, a flash of bright red hair appears beside me. It’s Angel, carrying two shots of some sort of dark and ominous liquor in her hands.
“Hey Rose. Do you want one? You look terrified,” she says, using my stage name now with a grin.
I nod, my trembling fingers closing around the frosted glass. Without hesitation, I tip it back. The liquor scorches its waydown my throat, a sharp burn that blooms into warmth in my chest.
Normally, I wouldn’t touch bourbon, which I’m sure that shot was, but tonight, I’m shedding Rosie and stepping fully into Rose.
Angel smirks, watching me closely as she hands me the second shot. “Take one more.”
I take the second one just as quickly, feeling the fire spread through my veins, grounding me enough to breathe steadily.
“Thank you.”
“Good luck,” she says with a wink, disappearing just as Amelia waves at me from across the backstage area.
“It’s showtime! Come on!” She hisses motioning for me to join her at the curtain.
I roll my shoulders back, pinching my shoulder blades together before shrugging off the silk robe.
My pulse is pounding, but I straighten my spine, stick my chest out as confidently as I can, and step forward to where Amelia is waiting.
She squeezes my bicep affectionately then says, “Go get ‘em, Rose.” And I’m off.
Chapter 2: Rosie
The first thing that hits me when I step onto the stage is the noise. It’s loud, throbbing, pulsing through the air from the speakers that are situated around the dark facility.
The second is the lights. They’re blinding, harsh, and make it nearly impossible to see the audience from where I’m standing at the front.
Maybe it’s a good thing because tonight I can pretend that there’s no one else out there watching my every move and dissecting the parts of my body that I'm not fond of.
The music swells, it’s a sultry, sensual beat that matches the seductive glow of the room, and I step out, my heels clicking against the polished stage.
Confidence. Fake it until you make it. That’s what Amelia told me. She’s already behind me, moving to the opposite pole like we practiced. And having her out here is the only thing that keeps me going because I don’t want to let her down.
The routine is simple enough. It must be since this is my first, and if I have anything to say about it, mylasttime ever doing this.
Amelia’s voice echoes in my mind:Just try to have fun. Let go of your worries and your inhibitions. You can’t fail at pole dancing. It's about freedom in your sexuality and harnessing it.
I force a smile onto my lips, flashing the straight, pearly teeth my father spent a fortune on with years of orthodontics. Who knew braces and dental whitening would lead me here? Certainly not him.
My grin earns a roar of cheers and applause from the crowd, and the money starts to fall—hundreds of one-dollar bills raining down onto the stage, landing at my feet and around my impossibly high heels.
Amelia catches my eye and winks. That’s my cue.
