My makeup was perfect today with the red lipstick that fit my slightly tanned complexion perfectly. It’d taken me a while to find the perfect red, but I’d done it. Now if only everything else in my life could fall into place as easily. I touched up my hair slightly, tucking a strand behind my ear as I sat up and stared at myself.
I was still there.
I was still me no matter how much my sister tried to warn me that I’d lose myself when I started dancing fifteen months ago out of desperation and need. Opal was a smart cookie, but she’d been wrong about that. I was still me.
“Had a feeling someone was watching you?” Kitty repeated, turning around to get a better look at me, snapping me out of my thoughts. I knew where this conversation was going.
Kitty, compared to me, was an old timer as a dancer, despite the two of us being the same age. At twenty-four, we had started from the same place. Same trailer park and chaos that left us with almost nothing. We might have gone in different directions after high school, yet we’d found ourselves on the same stage. Kitty had been the one to encourage me a little over a year ago to try it out, and thankfully, it was what had helped me get on my feet after my ex had taken everything.
At least now that the Velvet Leopard had been taken over by a new owner, some guy named Jonas Porter, the stage was cleaner. Safer now that that the new management had been put in place.
Thankfully, our new boss kept his hands to himself.
“I did.” I shrugged.
It’d started a month ago.
This feeling when I was on stage that someone was watching me. I knew how stupid it sounded. My job was literally all about being watched and looked at as I did my thing on the pole or out on the floor or private rooms.
But this had been different.
Like my body prickled with keen awareness of someone’s attention. And it hadn’t gone away. A week ago, I finally said the words out loud to Kitty, who had thought it was hilarious. But then again, she didn’t know I felt this way anytime I stepped out of my condo. Even at home, I sometimes caught a gentle whiff of a scent I couldn’t explain. Too soft to really figure out, just a slight touch of something in the air that made me wonder if I was losing my mind and making things up or if maybe someone had been inside my place. The latter was too scary to fathom.
“Babe, you’re a dancer. On a stage,” she reminded me. “People watch you all the time.” I rolled my eyes because she was telling me the obvious.
“I know.” I smiled. “I’m overthinking.”
“I told you to stop watching those true crime shows.” This wasn’t the first time she’d said this to me. Kitty and I’d been friends for what felt like a lifetime. “That big brain of yours goes into overdrive.”
“Big brain.” I shook my head.
“Oh, please“—she rolled her dark eyes—“we both know you could run this place with your eyes shut.”
“You need a degree for that,” I muttered. Her face turned grim, and I watched as anger simmered in her eyes. “It’s okay.” I winked and hoped she believed it. “But you’re right. I should stop watching shows like that.” She exhaled and watched me for a moment.
We’d known one another for a long time and could read one another like an open book. I could tell she wanted to bring up the reason I was dancing in the first place again, but she changed her mind, knowing that I wasn’t going to budge. My ex had taken everything, including the loans I’d taken out to pay for my last two semesters, room, and board.
Leaving me with nothing.
When I’d broken down to Kitty, she’d given me a place to stay and helped me get a job. I knew the moment she changed her mind about bringing up the one we didn’t talk about.
Instead, Kitty patted my shoulder before she stood and shook off the satin robe she was wearing.
Kitty Ortega looked incredible in her deep red bikini. Curves and femininity on overdrive. The woman would give Sofia Vergara a run for her money.
“What do you think?” She glanced at herself in the mirror before skimming her hands over the tiny soft swell of her belly.“I look bloated.” Even as gorgeous as she was, she was still self-conscious sometimes, despite having danced for the last three years.
“Are you kidding me? You look gorgeous,” I complimented honestly.
“Let’s hope.” She sighed. “Tips were slow yesterday. I don’t really feel like walking the floor for private dances.”
“Hmm,” I muttered and tried not to let my lips twitch. Something she totally didn’t miss.
“Don’t start,” she said sternly, her finger pointing at me.
“I didn’t say anything.” I held my hands up innocently, trying like hell not to straight up laugh out loud.
“I’m serious, Jade.”
