Chapter 4—Payton #2
With a stomp in her stilettos, Trixie walks straight up to Carl.
She’s not at all scared of the man like I am.
I’ve never seen him do something. Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t.
There is something about him. Something that chills the bones and makes you wish not to be alone with him.
I think it’s his eyes. They track you in a way that lets you know he sees your every thought before you do.
Sees you planning to escape, and he doubles down to keep it from happening.
He tried it with me when he hired me, but thankfully someone came in at the same moment, and I fled with a call over my shoulder that I accepted the position and would be by the next day at eight to open.
He never brought it up again, and I made sure never to be close to him after that either.
“What the hell is she doing in my room? I thought she doesn’t dance.”
I let Trixie fight for me only because I’m too stunned to do anything. Performing here is the lowest I’m willing to go. The rest? Off the table completely. To include what happens in those rooms.
No one talks about it. Some come out of them with smiles and cash. But the others? The ones who don’t smile and gloat? Their eyes look hollow, as if they saw or did something that has taken all the joy and happiness from the world. And the worst part? They do it again.
I’m not the only desperate soul here. I’m just the only one not willing to take my clothes off for the cash.
“She does when the price is right. Get going.”
Carl turns to leave, and my mouth opens before I can think better of it.
“No.”
“No?” He turns back slowly. “Did you just say no to me?” He takes several steps toward my area, and I clench my fingers into a fist to keep the tremor at bay as much as possible. I feel them going up and down my spine, but I refuse to let my hands shake.
“My contract says I’m only to perform.” I swallow the fear in my throat. “I… I don’t dance. I don’t do private events.”
I shake my head as I speak, trying to be CJ.
Trying to be strong and stand up for myself.
CJ is the name the club gave me and one I try to be when I’m here.
Well, when I dance. CJ is the brave one who jumps off the scaffolding and rigging.
She flies and smiles at the people below.
She entices and flirts, even if she never speaks a word.
Unlike me, who would rather hide in my blankets and never come out if given the opportunity.
For his size, Carl moves fast. He grabs my hair and pulls back till my head is facing the ceiling and he’s looking down at me. My hands fly up to his wrist.
“Your contract says you’ll do whatever the fuck I tell you to do.
If I say dance like a chicken, you dance and cluck like a fucking chicken.
You will go to room 3, and you will do everything you can to make them happy.
You understand me, girl?” He pulls tighter and I wince, closing my eyes to keep from crying out.
“And if you don’t, I’ll make sure you never perform again. ”
My eyes snap to his, and the smile on his face shoots true terror through me. The way he said “perform” makes me think he’d do more than fire me. And if I can’t move, if he hurts me enough that I’m no longer able to do this, I might as well die. Because without this job, the money, I’m dead anyway.
I nod, as much as I can in his punishing grip, and he snarls as he lets go before pushing me back up. I catch myself on the table with my hands to stop from putting my head through the mirror.
“You got five minutes. Don’t keep him waiting,” Carl says before I hear him move off. I don’t dare look in the mirror, too scared to see if he’s watching me.
“I hope he makes it hurt,” Trixie says close to my ear before she giggles and walks away.
I’m not sure if she’s talking about Carl or the guy in room 3. The one who just paid to do whatever he wants with me, for however long he paid to keep the door locked.
I finally look in the mirror and see my makeup is ruined. Without much thought, I grab my foundation and reapply. It’s autopilot, nothing more. I’m not thinking beyond how to get out. I’ve done my face up so many times, I can do it in my sleep.
Once I’ve finished, I turn and stand, my eyes on the door that leads out. The one I know is unlocked because the lock doesn’t work. Anyone can come in here if they want, but they don’t. Those outside are just as afraid of the stairs giving way as those inside.
I could make a run for it. Could just run and never look back.
I only have the stuff I brought in with me and a few hundred dollars that I got earlier because the girl forgot to pay me last time.
It’s not much, but it could get me a bus ticket.
No idea where I would go, but anywhere would be fine. Right?
“CJ.” Carl’s voice booms across the room as he looks at me with narrowed eyes.
He must have known I would leave. I should have just made a break for it the second I saw him gone.
I waited too long. If I tried to run now, he’d have one of his bouncers grab me in the back alley.
And I’ve got zero doubts that they would take their time bringing me to Carl before he did whatever he threatened me with.
And that might all happen before I’m still forced into room 3 anyway.
But even if I run and manage to make it out, there’s a part of me that knows I have no place to go.
That if I run, it will never be far enough.
I have responsibilities. Ones who come to collect every month, and they aren’t the type to just give up on what they consider theirs.
They would come after me. It could be weeks or years; I would never be able to sleep with both eyes shut.
And even if I had what they wanted when they came to collect, it wouldn’t be enough.
Not even my death would appease them, but they would take it anyway.
With nowhere to go, no out in sight, I put one foot in front of the other, passing Carl as I exit the dressing room and walk across the bar. I ignore everyone, from the patrons vying for my attention to the dancers onstage. I keep going till I get to the hallway with the private rooms.
When I reach room 3, I take a breath. Close my eyes. Wish to be anywhere else.
Then walk in.