Page 10 of Midnight Whispers

Iscrub the bottom of the pan, rinse it, and set it on the counter to dry.

“You’re not leaving that there, are you?” my stepmom says from the table with my stepsisters.

I cook the meals, but I’m not able to enjoy them until I clean the entire kitchen. Then I’m permitted to take my meal up to my room in the attic and eat it cold.

“Of course not. I’m just going to wipe the rest of the counter before I dry it and put it away.”

The mood on our estate has been sour since Nero broke things off with Maude last week. Louise wasn’t happy, and that’s putting it mildly. She has ranted and raved about how Maude messed up a good thing and ruined their meal ticket. She didn’t care that her daughter is actually in love with another man because as she put it, he isn’t worthy of her hand.

So I’ve taken the brunt of everyone’s foul mood for the past week. Nothing I do is good enough, though that isn’t a new concept, but everything is setting them off worse than ever. I try to brush off their pissy moods, but it’s making me weary.

“There’s laundry in my clothes hamper,” Maude says. “I want to wear my green dress to work tomorrow. See to it that it’s clean and ready by the morning.”

I set down the cloth and turn to face them. “I have to leave for work shortly.”

“Make sure mine is done, too,” Dru adds as if none of them can hear me.

“I won’t have time.”

Louise rolls her eyes. “You’re that anxious to get to that disgusting place and take your clothes off?” Her eyes narrow on me.

“Slut,” Maude coughs into her fist.

The day of my eighteenth birthday, Louise made me go out and find a job to help with the expenses of keeping the estate going.

When my father died with a ton of medical bills and lapsed life insurance, Louise had been forced to let all the employees who had worked at the estate for years go. Once I started working, I was forced to work at the strip club and hand the majority of what I earned back to her as payment for being allowed to remain in my family home.

Louise meant for the job to be demeaning and shameful, but I’ve found something in myself there. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed dancing and performing. Up until my dad died, I’d taken dance classes and competed. But with his passing, all that ended abruptly.

Being allowed out of the house to build relationships was the first positive. But when I got promoted from cocktail waitress to dancer and was able to dance on stage, seeing the way the men responded… a little spark of joy lit in the darkness. My confidence that Louise and her daughters had run through the mud sprouted inside me. And I needed it after years of them tearing down my self-worth.

When they make comments about working at T&T’s, I pretend I’m ashamed because if Louise found out that I like working there, she’d put a stop to it.

“It’s not that.” I bow my head. “If I’m late, they might fire me. But it will all be done before you wake up in the morning.”

I grab the tea towel, dry the pan quickly, and put it away in the cupboard. Then I race upstairs to grab their laundry and get it in the machine before I leave. I’ll have to throw it in the dryer and stay up to fold it when I return in the middle of the night.

Once it’s in the machine, I trudge up to my attic bedroom with all my worn and dated furniture and draperies. Each piece deemed too old or ugly to be elsewhere on the estate. But it’s the one place in this house that’s mine.

I riffle through the bits of fabric that make up most of my work costumes and decide on a bright blue slingshot thong suit, quickly sliding it on. Normally I’d change there, but since I’m running late, I’ll have little to no time to get ready there. Then I slide on a T-shirt and jean shorts over top and quickly brush my hair.

Thankfully, the stage makeup will cover my tiredness. Racing through the house, I don’t bother to say goodbye before I leave through the front door, jumping into my blue Toyota. My engine sputters as I head down the drive.

I make it to T&T’s in record time, and Aiyden, the bouncer, holds open the back door for me. He’s a sweetheart of a man to all the dancers and protects us from sleazebags who act as if they have some right to our bodies.

“Thanks, Aiyden.”

The burly man dressed in black smiles. “Better hurry.”

“Cin, you’re almost late!” Trina shouts from where she’s helping another dancer pull up her fishnet outfit without ripping it.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be ready.”

Trina danced for decades and recently aged out. Now she’s kind of like our house mom. She gets paid to keep the dancers in line and make sure things run smoothly in the back of the house.

I yank off my T-shirt and shorts, grabbing my heels from my bag. Lisa, another dancer, comes off stage, and I head over to her.

“How is it out there tonight?”

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