Chapter 16 Nelly #2
When I was dressed in casual clothes, hair dried, and daytime makeup applied, I lifted the bracelet from the jar and gave it a little shake.
When I slipped it over my wrist and the ‘charged’ beads contacted my clean skin, the scent blocker activated.
I didn’t know exactly how it worked; it wasn’t high-tech, but somehow the moment it touched my body, my natural Omega scent—which had wildly strengthened since leaving ballet and gaining a little weight—faded to an almost imperceptible odor.
I was basically a Beta, or I could pretend to be one.
The first time I’d put the inconspicuous piece of jewelry on, I had realized I didn’t hate the idea of leaving Omega status behind.
Being a Beta was easier, less complicated.
Society had different constraints for Betas, different expectations, but they were ones I could live with.
I stared at myself in the mirror for a moment.
I was always struck by how different I felt after putting on the blocker.
A little invisible. A little freer. A little less Nelly Shaw, celebrated ballerina, and a little more Lucky Star of Club Midnight.
Once, I was well known in Tacoma. Well loved.
Here in Seattle, I could be a no one, and nobody’s special anything.
I tore myself away from my reflection and padded into the kitchen to eat something substantial before running today’s errands.
The refrigerator was mostly empty—a jug of orange juice, some Greek yogurt, and the sad remains of what had once been a vibrant green pepper.
That last was almost funny to me. In my old life, that pepper would never have gone to waste.
How many mornings had I eaten the sliced pepper rings with an egg cracked in the middle?
So often that, even though I bought peppers with the intention of making the old breakfast staple, I found myself avoiding it until the veggie was past it’s best buy date.
I snagged it, chucking it into the trash bin, then I grabbed the yogurt and mixed in a handful of granola from the pantry.
Not exactly gourmet, but it would keep me going.
I ate while doom scrolling through my phone.
I laughed at a few dumb videos, quickly checked if my makeup order was still arriving on time, and read over messages from the other girls at the club.
Crystal had sent a group text about a Big Tech merger party that just hit the books for next weekend.
The CEOs were bringing all the board members to celebrate.
They’d reserved the entire club. Serving the large group would take all of us, and it would mean big money even if we pooled and split.
Our boss was asking anyone scheduled off to come into work anyways.
Asking was probably a stretch. Even when something sounded like a request you could refuse, it likely wasn’t.
I made a mental note to prepare something special for my routine.
I wasn’t particularly fond of big groups.
It was harder to fend off the Alphas who wanted more than a private dance.
Me: I’ll come in
My agreement to come work, though I was scheduled off, populated under other similar messages. The only person who couldn’t cancel her weekend plans was Star. Her kid’s birthday.
I finished my breakfast and rinsed the bowl, setting it in the dish rack to dry.
The apartment was quiet except for the distant hum of traffic outside.
The old building had amazing insulation.
I’d toured a few newer places, but you could hear everything through the paper-thin walls of all of them.
So, I’d chosen the Clairemont. Yet often my new home felt too peaceful.
God help me, sometimes I missed the constant bustle of The Imperial.
Lively conversations about choreography, Madame Belova clapping her hands to keep us in time as we practiced a new sequence, the soft thuds of pointe shoes against practice floors.
But that life was gone now, stolen by a grand jeté and a loose ribbon.
The audible pop, a sound I still can close my eyes and hear crystal clear, haunted me.
At least I didn’t think about stupid Geoff anymore.
.. well, I didn’t think about him very often.
"Get it together, Nelly," I muttered to myself, grabbing my purse and keys.
My errands today were simple: groceries, pharmacy for some pain relievers—since my stupid knee had been acting up again—and picking up a new-to-me work outfit from the dry cleaner's. Even preowned, the sequined two-piece had cost several hundred, but I’d learned a fresh stage fit was worth every penny.
Like a new color, or new cut, or new section of skin peeking out, was enough to make me desirable to my Alpha audience again.
The tips rolled in so easily every time I walked out in something they’d never seen before.
If only remaking myself was truly as easy as donning a sparkly tube top and miniskirt.
If only I could slip out of my skin and put on a new one to become someone completely different, someone who never came so close to achieving her dreams. Maybe then the past wouldn’t hurt so damn much.
But the aching pain of all I’d lost was softening day by day.
I checked weekly on Grandmother. We didn’t talk directly now.
It only seemed to upset her when I tried to tell her who I was, when I tried to get her to remember she had a grown granddaughter.
I also couldn’t take the agony of it—realizing she was increasingly more trapped by her own mind, realizing all she wanted was her husband who’d been gone for months now.
Seattle was different. I was different. The time when I’d lost all hope of forging a new life was gone.
Yet, also, the time when I’d hoped of regaining my old life had drifted away too.
I had zero thoughts now of trying to make a comeback.
Swan Lake had well and truly dried up. The principal dancer inside my body and brain and soul had shriveled away.
In a strange, paradigm-shifting way, I wondered if I’d ended up where I was always destined to be—on a stage, but not the one I’d once envisioned; in a home, but not the childhood one I’d planned on keeping forever; making enough money to support myself and help my grandparents, only.
.. cash was tossed at me like confetti and the people I’d desperately wanted to pay back for all of their sacrifices no longer needed me to.
Life.
Not a solid stage, expertly crafted and cleaned for balanced ‘slip and grip’.
It was shifting beach sand walked in unstable stilettos.
It was slick roads driven on tires with zero tread left.
It was unpredictable. Sometimes awful. Always leading us toward a future whether we wanted it or not.
A future that might include what once felt impossible—like stripping on a stage, which was exactly what I’d be doing later today.