I nodded, my steps slowing the closer we got to the stage. The music from the previous act was so loud, it made it impossible to say anything else.
Tia stayed by my side and waited for me to go on. As soon as Becca came through the curtain, it was my turn.
Becca gave me a thumbs-up on her way past, and I froze in front of the entrance. I’d find another way to make money. There had to be something else. Maybe I just hadn’t looked hard enough. This so wasn’t for me. I couldn’t—
My rant was rudely interrupted when Tia pushed me and I stumbled out onto the stage. I blinked into the lights, grateful I couldn’t see anything besides the stage.
I could just pretend this was another practice. The music was already playing, and I nearly missed my cue to start moving.
Luckily Tia was on it, and when something hit me in the back, I snapped out of it and started to dance. And after a few awkward movements, I began my routine. It all went well until I got to the pole.
I’d lost half my clothes along the way, like we’d planned. I had no hope of undressing myself while anywhere near the pole. The girls said once I wasn’t wearing much, nobody would care if I fell on my head. I was about to do my first move, the front hook spin. It was one of the few moves I could halfway master.
I was holding the pole with one hand when there was a commotion near the stage. I wasn’t sure if I should stop, but since nobody shut off the music, I kept going. There were fights at the club all the time.
I was just about to spin myself around the pole, my legs at an awkward angle, ensuring I would screw up the move. But if nothing else, I saw things through. And even though it was a certainty that tonight would be an epic failure, I was determined to give it my all since I was already onstage.
And the urge to vomit had disappeared as well. Now I felt like I would pass out from the lack of oxygen instead.
But better to faint than throw up in front of people.
I didn’t get a chance to show off my newly acquired move because someone grabbed me from behind and I found myself slung over a shoulder. I screamed, kicking my legs and pounding on the person’s back.
And there was the urge to vomit again. The sounds faded the farther away from the stage we got, and I lifted my head, trying to see through the curtain of hair covering my face. I struggled to free myself, not sure if I was being kidnapped again or if this was an initiation to stripping.
This better not have anything to do with Jim.
“Guess you won’t be a stripper after all,” Elle said when I passed her. She didn’t seem concerned over my current situation, so I decided not to panic. Yet.
“Put me down,” I said to whoever was carrying me.
“Fuck no,” a familiar voice responded.
“Sebastian? What are you doing?” I asked, feeling a lot less worried about being manhandled.
I was really questioning my sanity about not being scared when a member of a motorcycle club carried me off the stage. Half dressed, mind you.
“Don’t talk,” he growled.
Okay, then.Someone was grumpy. Guess my dancing was worse than I thought.
“Incoming,” he said and then knocked on a door before opening it. Shortly after, I found myself back on safe ground. I brushed my hair out of the way and locked eyes with a red-faced Sebastian.
I opened my mouth to ask him again what was going on, but when I saw his dark, angry expression, I wisely shut up. I forced a demure smile on my face instead, hoping he’d either let go of the strong and angry routine or explain what just happened.
He did neither. Instead, he stalked to my dressing table and collected my clothes. I followed, confused.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I yelled at him. “You have no right to manhandle me like that.”
“Get dressed,” he barked and held out my clothes.
There were still a few girls left, all of them staring at us. This was sure to get back to Smitty, and suddenly the only thing that mattered was that I couldn’t lose my job.
If I couldn’t strip, I had to at least keep my waitressing gig. And Sebastian had just made sure I didn’t have either.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? I need this job. My kids need me to have this job,” I yelled, waving my arms around. “You ruined everything.”
When he didn’t respond, I jerkily pulled my clothes on, the anger making my hands shake. Once my clothes were back in place and I was wearing sneakers instead of the sky-high heels I could barely walk in, I grabbed my purse and stalked past the son of a gun.
