Page 1 of Strip Search

Chapter One

Jackie Mitchell

My feet were killing me, and my cheeks hurt from grinning so hard. I aced the audition and got the part. Sure, it was only a minor part in the ensemble in an off-Broadway play, but my dream was finally going to come true. I was going to dance professionally. After four years of college and another four years of being the business manager of my much more talented sister, Lisa, I was free to pursue my dream at long last.

When my phone rang and I saw it was my mother, I almost didn’t pick up the phone. She was going to harsh my groove something fierce. I was about to put the phone back into my purse when she called again. She was retired. She could do this all day. I, on the other hand, had to get back to the Zimmerman Agency and make up the time that I’d spent in the audition.

“I can’t talk now,” I said, navigating the busy Manhattan streets with ease. “I’ve got to get back to work.” There was a bite in the air and it smelled like snow. Shivering, I zipped up my parka and tugged my knitted hat down over my ears.

“You need to drop everything. Get on a plane to Vegas and find your sister.” My mother’s voice was shrill with hysteria. I rolled my eyes. Just a typical Monday.

“No, I really don’t,” I said. “Lisa is an adult. She’s going through a rough patch, but she’ll be fine.”

“She should be back here in New York auditioning.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her about the part I just got, but I decided I wanted to feel the glow of success for a fewmore days before my mother pissed all over it. I could hear the sneer in her voice now.

If you’re not on Broadway, you might as well be doing community theater.

“I haven’t spoken to her in a month and a half.” My mother ranted on, oblivious to the argument I was having with her in my head. “She sends a terse text every week. How do I even know it’s her?”

“Was Lisa whining or feeling sorry for herself?” That slipped out before I could stop it. It would have been fair game, except in my sister’s last starring role—yes, on Broadway—she tore the hell out of her ACL and the doctors didn’t think she was ever going to dance professionally again.

Since that had been her identity for her entire life, Lisa was taking it understandably hard. She had aced her physical therapy, but the moment she could walk again without crutches, she was on the plane to Vegas. I guess New York City had too many memories for her.

“She tells me she’s fine and not to worry. And then I ask her if she went on any auditions this week and she doesn’t answer. I haven’t even gotten a text from her in two weeks. Nothing.”

“Last I heard she was bartending at a strip”—I coughed to cover my slipup—“er, high-end club on the Strip.” Actually, it was a gentlemen’s club called the Spearmint Rhino about five miles from the Strip, but who’s counting?

My mother would. She’d probably think that if it wasn’t on the Las Vegas Strip, Lisa might as well be mixing drinks in her apartment.

“Have you heard from her?”

I squinted and scrolled through my messages. “No, not for over a month.”

“You girls don’t keep in touch? Aren’t you supposed to be booking her for jobs?”

The accusation in her tone stiffened my back. “Her contract is on hiatus with the Zimmerman Agency.” It was a long-term hiatus, considering my sister’s knee couldn’t take the strain of a show at this time. Maybe even never. I pushed down the pity. I knew what it was like to have your dream snatched from you. But no one ever coddled me or even thought twice about my feelings.

I pinched my nose. I thought I had worked through all these feeling in therapy, but apparently not.

“Jaqueline Aida Mitchell, you are your sister’s advocate. That’s what we’re paying you to be.”

I wanted to hurl the phone into traffic. “Actually, I get fifteen percent of what she brings in, so if she doesn’t get paid neither do I.” And my mother knew that. She was trying to “motivate” me in that special way that she had. One that usually wound up with me doing something stupidly competitive to prove I was just as good a daughter as Lisa.

“So why aren’t you out there hustling for her?”

“Mom, she can’t dance.”

There was a horrified silence, and I hoped she’d hung up on me, but my luck was never that good.

“You shut your mouth,” she finally said. “You are not a doctor.”

“I’m hanging up now,” I told her.

“Wait,” she screeched.

“Be nice,” I warned.

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