Page 1 of Saving Sophia

1

SOPHIA

According to Cinderella, the right pair of shoes can change your life. So what can the wrong pair do? In my case, they almost ended it.

I was halfway through my shift at Renaissance, a strip club that looked like an Italian-themed casino and a futuristic dance rave had a baby. Blue neon hummed beneath the music while armless sculptures hid in alcoves, staring blankly at the dancers and their patrons.

I was just a cocktail waitress, so I wore a toga-like, white tube top and a tight, white pleather micro mini skirt, but the shoes were the worst. Gaudy, gold platform gladiator sandals with buckles and straps halfway up my calves. I never made it through a shift without a blister.

I didn’t envy the dancers’ shoes either—six-inch acrylic Pleasers that I would have broken both ankles on immediately. It never ceased to amaze me how gracefully Callie, my roommate and best friend, could dance in them, spinning on the pole, one long, glitter-covered leg extended out to a group of rapt college guys as they frantically waved bills toward her neon garter. She danced like she was born in those shoes, biting her lip, shaking her beach blond hair then dropping into a split as if she were barefoot.

“Umm, so … did any of you want another round?”

I tried to project my voice over the blaring club music and capture the attention of the nearest guy at my table. His eyes were glued on Callie’s arched body and perfect breasts, bouncing to the beat of the music.

He let out a whoop as she crawled toward him, a seductive smile plastered across her face.

“Hey … you guys … need more drinks?”

I tried again, resting my server’s tray on my hip. Brad was going to be pissed if I didn’t get another order out of them. I leaned in toward the table and collected empties. Maybe then they would see me and realize they were still thirsty.

One guy pushed forward as Callie approached, bumping my tray.

“Oh, sorry,” I muttered, somehow avoiding dumping the empty beer bottles onto the floor.

“What?” The first guy finally noticed me for a half-second before returning his gaze to Callie. She was perched on the edge of the stage, gyrating her hips and resting her hand on one guy’s shoulder. She tossed me a tiny wink and a grin they didn’t notice. She’d chosen her mark.

“I was asking if I could … get you another round? Of drinks?”

“Aww yeah, get it, Pete,” the first guy yelled as Callie wrapped her arms around her mark’s shoulders, bringing her impressive chest exactly three inches from his astonished eyes.

They weren’t going to order, and I was looking more and more pathetic, hovering around the table and being ignored.

Callie paused and raised a sharply arched eyebrow, watching me. She swung into Pete’s lap, wiggled then leaned toward the group. “What do you say, boys? Does Petey need a lap dance?” They answered with enthusiastic cheers. She casually caught Pete’s hand as it wandered onto her thigh, then tossed another seductive smile to the group. “You boys look thirsty.” She looked around to make sure all eyes were on her and gave another wiggle on Pete’s lap. “Have Amber Jade bring another round, and we can have some fun.”

They all turned to me at once and called out their orders.

Just like Callie to see me struggling and throw me a lifeline. Even if she used the silly fake name she’d invented. Amber Jade—my stage name, she’d insisted. As if it mattered. She could have called me Briney Blue McThundersplash, Lost Princess of Atlantis. These guys wouldn’t have cared.

When I got back to the bar and set my tray down to punch in the order, Brad, the bartender, smirked. “You’re lucky your roommate is the best dancer in this place.” He pulled out two glasses from the shelf and started filling them. “Without her, you wouldn’t make shit for drink sales.”

I tried to think of a response, but he had already walked away. And he was right. Callie got me this job, and this wasn’t the first time she’d helped me.

It’s easy, Sophia. Use your stage name and be an actress. Make Amber Jade a whole different persona. She’s exotic, mysterious. Men are dying for her attention. Bat your eyelashes. Smile like you have a secret. Make them beg.

Easy for her. Not so much for me, but I needed to figure it out. I already owed her two months’ rent. I needed money if I wanted to keep living on my own, away from my parents’ disappointment.

One of the faux marble statues next to the bar, a naked woman clutching at her breast in a sixteenth century inspired pose, stared at me, silently watching, her gaze empty and serene. No help there.

Brad slammed the drinks on my tray with a hard clink and waved his hand in my face. My flinch was involuntary, and I hated him for making me do it.

“Hello? Earth to space mouse? Drinks aren’t gonna serve themselves.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled, picking up the tray. The apology was involuntary too, and I hated it worse than the flinch.

When I got back to the table, Callie was still in Pete’s lap, but her eyes had moved to the buddy to his left.

Be an actress. Be Amber Jade. Bat your eyelashes and smile like you have a secret. You can do this.

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