Chapter 15
Tessa
“In light of recent events, Marissa Stone has been recast for all of Miss Bradley’s current roles. Still no news on her whereabouts or the reason for her disappearance. Other news outlets are beginning to assume the worst…”
“… Ransom…”
“… Kidnapping…”
“… Murder…”
“With no updates by local law enforcement, Hollywood remains at a standstill as to where their beloved Actress could have gone, most believing she is no longer with us…”
This was all too easy. The escape, the job…
Something was about to go wrong with my plan; I could feel it, my luck ready to run out.
It shouldn’t have been possible for me to walk into this club on a whim and be offered a position without undergoing a thorough background check.
Then again, I was officially assuming the identity of Evie Sinclair—whoever the fuck she was.
Without a doubt, I knew that Levi had figured it out during my audition routine.
He remembered who I was in that moment we shared.
By the way he gripped my chin, he had to.
There could be no other explanation for the way he reacted to my advances.
And now I needed to figure out his angle for playing ignorant…
The most common attire worn by the dancers who worked at Pulse was brightly colored string bikinis, fluffy leg warmers, and anything that dangled off their bodies to lure attention.
However, the employee handbook did note that I could dress as I pleased, provided it was in line with the overall atmosphere and vibe of the nightclub.
I perched myself at one of the open vanities along the back wall of the lounge and got to work on my hair and makeup for my first shift. I applied some quick, dark, and dramatic eyeshadow before fluffing my hair with a can of volumizing dry shampoo, just to give it a little extra perk.
That was the one benefit of wearing a wig when I wasn’t stuck hiding in my apartment during the day. I always looked put together with minimal effort. The downside was how hot it got underneath, especially in the scorching Nevada heat.
Why the fuck did I have to choose Vegas as my escape—aside from the fact that it wasn’t a far stretch from home and I didn’t even expect to make it this long without being—
“You’re Evie, right? The new girl?” I peered over my shoulder in the mirror’s reflection, spotting a blonde bombshell of a woman standing behind me, dressed in nothing more than a gold shimmer bikini and matching strappy heels.
She looked as though she were about to walk the Sports Illustrated runway as a sexy Cleopatra.
“That’s me. Can I help you?” I wore my most innocent smile as I set my eyeliner on the vanity and spun around in my chair to give her my full attention.
“My name’s Brandi, I’m one of the senior dancers on staff.
Levi told me to give you a brief rundown of what to expect before you start your shift, so here I am to help in any way I can.
” She sounded genuine and nice. Honestly, I was expecting someone more like Marissa to be my first interaction here.
“Oh, okay. Yeah, that would be great, seeing as I’m so new to all of this.” I beamed, finding her kindness refreshing for a change.
“Right…” She drawled, her tone shifting into something far less friendly, a lot more catty.
“First things first.” Brandi started picking all my things up from the vanity and roughly shoved them into the nearest bag before dropping it onto my lap.
“Whatever you do, don’t leave your cheap shit lying around.
I don’t want to see it, and most of the other dancers are kleptos just waiting to steal anything left available, including the men.
..” And there it fucking was—the venomous bite of a territorial bitch pissing all over the place.
For a second, I thought there might actually be friendships worth building here. But… fuck that.
Brandi didn’t come over to make friends; she came to stake her claim, and I needed to adopt that very same mentality for myself if I were to survive. This was dog-eat-dog territory, and I was all in for the fight—gloves off, fists up, the whole nine fucking yards.
Not allowing her the satisfaction of getting under my skin, I played it cool. Ignorantly nodding my understanding and withholding the backtalk and a few choice words I had for the cunt, all while swallowing my pent-up aggression and pride.
Be a shark. Be the fucking shark, Tessa—Evie… fuck.
“Then there’s the nightly rundown. We dance in intervals, so as not to overexert ourselves while dancing—forty-five minutes in, fifteen out.
And since you’re new, you get the cage at the far end of the main floor, in the back corner—closest to the emergency exit, to be precise.
Placement is performance-based; you’ll have to earn the right for better visibility.
” Her tone was bored and arrogant, as if she’d recited this speech a million times, and I continued to nod like an obedient little girl, holding back the countless eye rolls and unrelenting urge to punch her in the throat while my gaze drifted elsewhere.
Oh, to be at the bottom all over again…
“And one last thing, before I forget…”
I returned my attention to Brandi as she pretended to fluff her lush, wavy locks in the mirror over my shoulder before standing tall and proud in her nine-inch heels. “The owners are off limits.”
Wait… excuse me? Now, hold the fuck on—
“The own—What?” I shot her a confused look, my brows furrowing together as I assessed just how serious she was trying to be. When I interviewed, Levi stated that he was the owner, with no mention of a second, and I know for a fact that he’s single... isn’t he? “I’m sorry, I—”
“You do not flirt or fuck around with either of the owners. Plain and simple. Got it?” Bold, demanding, egotistical, and she couldn’t possibly be fucking serious…
I didn’t need to drag myself from the pit of one hell straight into another so soon. So I chose to adapt, submitting myself to this new match of chess, well acquainted with the rules and politics of a game I fucking ruled before stepping a single foot into this club.
“May I ask why?” I inquired, with a boldness that radiated all the petty fuck you energy in the world.
Brandi had nothing on me, and already being well established at the bottom of the food chain, I had nothing to lose either.
“Because… they’re mine.” She declared, and didn’t need to say anything more to get her point across.
I heard her. Loud and clear.
The only problem was…
I didn’t give a flying fuck.
Over the past three days, Brandi had been nothing more than a frigid cuntsicle toward me, which was to be expected, seeing as she saw herself as the prized favorite of the owners—whomever the other one was…
Have you ever despised someone so much that the moment you were face-to-face, all you could think of was just how amusing it would be to strike a match and set their entire being on fire right before your eyes? Yeah… that was Brandi for me.
It also had me questioning whether that was how people perceived me on the red carpet… The same holier-than-thou attitude. Goddamn, she was frustrating as hell.
Not going to lie, it sucked being at the bottom of the ladder for once, but I had to admit, it was a refreshing change of perspective.
I felt less pressured to be liked and more inclined to be authentic to who I truly was—to be me, uncensored and unapologetic.
I almost felt bad for how I treated Marissa during our last encounter—almost.
I hadn’t seen Levi since he hired me a little over a week ago, reliving a connection that matched the same fierce fire that I’d felt on the first night we met.
Brandi’s claim started gnawing at me the longer I went without seeing him.
I wondered if what she’d stated was true and if he was just toying with my emotions, cheating on her, or both. Similar to Tobias in that sense.
I suppose my biggest worry was what I would see when he eventually showed up. Would she run to him? Would he embrace her like the lover she claimed to be? Or would he shove her aside and seek me out instead? And why the hell did any of this matter?
Pulse was closed from Sunday through Wednesday, which meant my time to get better acquainted with my somewhat version of a stage was extremely limited.
One of the more recently hired dancers, Vanessa, mentioned that as long as the doors were unlocked, I could come in an hour before opening to practice in the cages.
On my first night, I struggled to maneuver inside them, as I had to adjust my movements to accommodate the small platform and limited space.
It wasn’t tiny by any means; the diameter was wide enough for my height lying down, but that wasn’t sufficient to perform any variation of dramatic flair that I was used to doing on an open movie set.
Honestly, I understood why I was shoved into the back-end cage now. To save myself the embarrassment while I figured my shit out.
For this evening’s shift, I wore something more in line with the other dancers after realizing I wasn’t garnering as much attention as they did. An almond white, waffle-textured bikini with color-matched fluffy leg warmers that flared out enough at the base to conceal my black heels.
In my first two shifts, I also learned that wearing accessories that flowed with the movement of my body added to the aesthetic and overall attraction, so naturally, I went to a fabric store early this morning and bought a yard of each white and black spandex fabric, cutting them into strips and tying a few around my thighs, biceps, and waist.
My blush pink wig was washed and restyled with loose beach waves, and my makeup was more smoky than usual—the first attempt had been unsuccessful and only escalated the more I tried to fix it. I had managed to stop just short of reaching the level of a raccoon.