Page 105 of Trip Through Your Wires

“Well sugar, are you ready?” Mamma Louise asks, standing behind me, eyeing my reflection in the vanity mirror.

I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, but swallowing down my apprehension, I nod and force a smile, pretending this is all I have ever wanted. “Yup, ready.”

“You look amazing,” she flashes me a winning smile, clearly noting the apprehension in my answer. I’m not sure amazing is the word I would use. Pathetic is one. Out of place is another.

I barely recognize myself. My long dark hair has been ratted into a bouffant with the sides pulled up and secured with an oversized clip on the top of my head, while blue eyeshadow has been brushed over my lids and liquid eyeliner painted on in a dramatic cat eye.

I don’t know what’s worse—the fact I look like a sixties housewife, or one that’s getting ready for bed. Paired with my hair and makeup, I am wearing a pastel yellow babydoll nightie and sky-high platform heels. The nightdress is sheer with side slits, lace patchwork cups, a delicate satin tie in the front, and a matching G-string panty. I’ve had to wear a bikini for weeks, but there’s something about this outfit that makes me uncomfortable.

If I were smart, I’d run out the back door and head straight through the swamp, taking my chances with the gators. It would be better than all those old men out there ogling me. The idea of anyone seeing me like this, let alone touch me, makes me want to vomit.

“What music did you pick?” I push up from the stool and turn around.

“Something I think you’ll like,” she winks. “Now come,” she sticks her hand out, “let’s get you on that stage.”

We make our way down the hall and the energy from the other dancers is palpable. Tonight’s party must be filled with high rollers because each of the girls that have danced so far have made a killing. I don’t care what I make. I won’t take a cent.

When Mamma and I reach the steps to the stage, Richardson steps into my line of sight. When he sees me his eyes drag down my body slowly. I want to claw his fucking eyes out but all I can do is flip him off.

“No, Ms. Miller,” he flashes me a sickening smile, then leans in. “I believe the person who is fucked here is you.”

I hate that he’s right. I am fucked. After searching tirelessly for something to incriminate him the past few days, I have come up empty-handed. We have reached the point of no return. It’s time to pay the piper. Or in this case, give the Devil the blood he’s owed.

“Now shake that ass and make me proud,” he pulls back. “I’ll be watching.”

He turns and walks down the hall in the opposite direction, but as he reaches the end, one of the bouncers walks up to him and says something in his ear. He shakes his head and instead of heading out to the club yanks open the black door angrily and disappears.

Knowing he won’t be watching me is blessing. A small one, but I’ll take it. Turning back around with slightly less dread, I grab the railing and take a deep breath to steady myself, before placing the toe of my platform on the stair. My heart is pounding and my ears ringing so loudly that I don’t hear my name being called until it cuts through the clamor and strikes my chest like a bolt of lightning.

“Sparky!”

My stomach plummets and I let go of the railing and spin around, finding Jake stalking toward me. In his jeans, Highland sweatshirt, and Nike high tops, he’s a sight for sore eyes. For a second I wonder if this is a dream. If I passed out on my way up the stairs and lying on the floor right now, unconscious. But when he grabs my arm and I feel his touch shoot through me, I realize it’s not a dream. This is real. He’s here.

I’m not supposed to see him until tomorrow. In Charleston. How on earth is this happening? “What are you doing here?”

“Never mind what I’m doing here,” he fires back. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Looking down the hall frantically, I search for Richardson and the bouncers. Seeing no sign of either, I turn back to Jake, ignoring the confused stares of Mamma and the other dancers next to us. “I can explain later. Right now, you have to go.”

From the moment I learned Richardson had been watching Jake, I’d worried about his safety. Now that he’s here, however, he’s in grave danger.

He drags his eyes down my body, taking in the yellow babydoll. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“Please,” I close my eyes, chest aching with the way he’s looking at me. “You have to—”

“Go?” His eyes search mine. “No way. I’m not leaving without you. Get your stuff.”

“I can’t,” my voice falters. “I have to get up there. If I don’t….”

“If this is about money,” he leans in.

“It’s not about money,” I reply softly. “Jake, please. You have to go. If he sees you…”

Keeping Jake safe used to be one of the reasons I was doing this, but right now, his safety is my only concern. It’s only a matter of seconds until someone tells Richardson what’s going on backstage, and if that happens, if he sees Jake, he’s a dead man.

“I will explain everything,” I place my hand on his chest and he eases his hold. “I promise. I just need you to leave before someone sees you.”

I need him to feel our connection. The one that tells him what I need without having to say a word. He looks down at my hand, studying it for a moment, before looking back up.

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