Page 59 of Cruel Steps

EMERSON

After meeting with Hendrix, we worked it out for me to dance on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, since games were on Saturdays. Tonight was my second night, and I loved the place. The environment was invigorating, and I already felt more like the version of myself from Brighton than I had since being back in Oak Hills.

There were three different rooms, each with a different vibe, and the number of dancers varied depending on the needs. I hadn’t realized the extent of the place when I first started at Club Ember, but it was impressive for a town the size of Darlington.

Ember was the main room and a typical dance club with an open floor and a DJ mixing songs. Each night was a different type of music, bringing in new crowds with each genre. It had pop-up stages that rose around the floor, giving each dancer a mini platform to dance on. It reminded me of Go-Go dancing. There were four slots each night to showcase on the main stage. On Sundays, the club was closed, and it was when auditions for those spots occurred. Hendrix would fill them based on the dancer’s popularity and technique. They were coveted, and I wanted one.

Ignite was a medium-sized room with a smaller stage for live music. Dancing in this room varied based on the musician and what they wanted. Some wanted dancers to mix in with the crowd; others wanted a dancer on stage. When they didn’t have live music, the room was used for ballroom dancing. Since I had no experience in that, I doubted I’d ever dance in Ignite.

Wildfire was by far my favorite room. It was the smallest and filled with small cocktail tables. The stage was wide and held a piano. It had a Burlesque feel, and I wanted to work my way up to being a regular in there.

Tinder was the VIP room and was only by request, so I had yet to learn what happened in that room. Hendrix told me not to expect to be in there immediately, and I was fine with that. We got paid an hourly rate and could earn tips in the smaller rooms from either the band or patrons. The big money came from the showcases and VIPs.

So far, everyone had been friendly, and I hadn’t experienced any mean girls, which was good since I had one in my daily life. Being able to escape Hope was the haven I needed.

I guzzled water and wiped the sweat from my forehead. Tonight was ‘90s-’00s Pop night, and the DJ played a lot of classic Britney and Christina. There was nothing like a girl’s anthem to get your blood pumping. I’d just finished my third shift of dancing and had two more before I left. We got thirty minutes in between sets to rest. I hadn’t thought I’d need it, but after the first set, I was glad to take a break.

Everyone did different things during breaks, but I just wanted to sit and stare at my phone. Colter had been texting me nonstop since Tuesday. He sent me a “good morning, beautiful” text and a “sweet dreams, sweetheart” one every night. Throughout the day, he would tell me something personal. So far, I’d learned why he wanted to be a veterinarian, that he was an only child like me—though, I guess that was technically no longer true—and that he wanted to foster dogs once he had his own place. Each little nugget of information showed me who he was, making me fall for him more and more.

Smiling at my phone, I sent him a picture of me crossing my eyes and sticking out my tongue in response to his most recent text.

Colter: I need a sexy photo of you to put as your contact.

Colter: Send me one, and I’ll send you one back…

Emerson: *image*

Emerson: Sexy enough for you?

I giggled at the dots, wishing I could see his face.

Colter: You so get me.

Emerson: No sexting allowed! I’m at work.

Colter: You going to tell me where that is yet?

Emerson: Nope. I don’t need you coming here.

Colter: Mer, you realize that makes me want to know even more, right?

Colter: What if I guess?

Emerson: Sure. You’ll never guess, though.

Colter: Are you a waitress?

Emerson: Nope.

Colter: Okay, what about in retail?

Emerson: Hell, no.

Colter: Damn. Okay, I need to think outside the box.

Colter: How about something medical?

Emerson: Negatory.

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