Velvet

Chapter 1

I inhaled deeply.

That was a mistake. The thick air, filled with smoke and perfume, filled my lungs. Now I was coughing so hard, my eyes were tearing up.

“Damn,” a voice rasped. “They didn’t tell me we were hiring choir girls.”

I turned.

An older woman, maybe in her mid forties, was leaning against a wall with a cigarette dangling between two fingers. Her lipstick was bright red and her eyes were smudged with charcoal black. She wore a showgirl dress-a one piece with bright blue sequins.

She looked me up and down slowly as she clicked her tongue-as if she already disapproved of me.

“First day, right?” she asked, pulling away from the wall and walking over to me.

I nodded.

She raised a brow before taking a long drag. “Sweetheart, you look like you took a wrong turn on your way to the ballet.”

“I’m Riley.” I croaked, my throat still dry from the air. I reached for my inhaler in my bag and brought it to my lips before taking two long inhales.

“Mira,” she said, squinting at my inhaler. She flicked ash onto the tiled floor below before continuing, “And what the fuck is that thing?”

I hesitated, “My inhaler?”

She leaned her head back and laughed-like really laughed.

“You’re at a club honey,” she cackled. “That ain’t gonna do much.”

I turned away from her and inspected myself in the mirror. It looked like I was almost naked. I wore a bra-shaped top and bottoms made of gold chains and white crystals. It was designed to give the illusion that I was partially naked, to make you think you were seeing more than you were

“Come on, sweetheart. Orientation.” Mira said, giving me one last long look before turning. I scurried after her.

I followed her down a narrow hallway lined with old paintings and harsh white lights that flickered as we walked by. We passed several dancers. They were laughing and chatting, their costumes rustling as we walked by-but not one looked my way.

“Rule number one,” Mira said, glancing back at me. “No dating the guests-or fucking them.”

I blinked. “I wasn’t planning to.

“That’s what a lot of women say when they arrive,” she said. “But these men, honey, if words don’t work, they use their money. And they got a lot of it.”

She stopped in front of a vanity and leaned forward, inspecting her lipstick.

“Rule number two,” she continued, turning to face me. “The guests can touch you-if you don’t mind. But if anyone touches you without permission-you gotta let Rick know.”

I nodded, watching as she squashed her cigarette out on the top of the vanity.

Rick was the manager of the club. I’d met him at my interview. He was an older guy-probably in his fifties. He seemed nice enough.

“And rule number three,” she said, “If you’re dancing with other girls-any money that gets thrown on stage-we split it. But if you do a solo, it’s all yours. Then each of us has to give Rick a cut of our money at the end of the night.”

She turned back to the vanity and gestured towards the chair. “Now, let’s see what we’re working with. I was told to help with your makeup.”

I winced internally. It wasn’t that Mira wasn’t nice-but her makeup…it was a bit dated.

She sighed, as if reading my mind, “Don’t worry sweetheart, I know how you young girls like to do your makeup. Now come on.”

I smiled politely and sat in the chair.

“I love the hair,” she said, tugging gently on a few strands. “Platinum blonde looks good on you-so does the bob. Very stylish.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Let’s do gold on your eyes, gold looks good with brown eyes,” she muttered, pulling out an eyeshadow palette. A few moments later, she was already done. I suppose years of putting on makeup in between shows helped.

My jaw dropped when I looked back at myself.

“I knew you’d love it,” she purred from behind me as she lit another cigarette.

“I do,” I smiled. She’d used browns and golds for my eyeshadow, then she’d placed small gold rhinestones around my lids and next to my eyes.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Mira said as she blew out a puff of smoke. “Although, I’m not sure why they are having you do a solo on your very first night.”

I shrugged, “I don’t mind. I’ve been a dancer my whole life.”

She laughed. “This ain’t the same kind of thing. It’s too much pressure for a new girl.”

“Or maybe management just knows talent when they see it.” A voice said from behind us. I looked in the mirror to see Rick standing behind us. I recognised him instantly from my interview with his slick hair and grey suit.

Mira rolled her eyes at me in the mirror, “Well, I think you’re ready.”

Yeah. That was still a giant question mark. Sure, I’d been a dancer my entire life. Years of ballet, hip-hop. All thanks to my fucked up family. Why?

Because poor kids get to join programs for poor kids. You know, the type of programs that are meant to help us rise from the slums, or in my case, a small town. It had been the perfect escape from life back home. With an insane mother and an absent father.

Now I was here in New York. Far from rural Massachusetts. Working as a dancer in a showgirl-themed nightclub. I was twenty two and would soon start my last semester of art school.

I loved it. The feel of charcoal under my nails, paint staining my skin. The way I was the one in control because I could create my own world. But every time someone asked what I planned to do with my degree…

I had no idea.

I just knew I couldn’t go back home.

Never again would I spend my days enduring the sounds of my mother’s screams or feel the pain of my father’s absence. Just to find the two of them together the next morning, sharing pancakes and pretending like nothing had happened.

The day I turned eighteen, I packed my shit and got the hell out of there.

I hadn’t been back since.

“Riley, you’re up in two.” A woman said, her head appearing in the mirror behind me.

My stomach tightened. “Thank you.”

Rick winked at me as I stood and turned, “Go make me some money.”

Mira snorted as he walked off.

“Charming,” she muttered.

Then she nudged my shoulder gently. “Go on, showgirl.”

I swallowed and tried to even my breathing as I stepped onto the stage. It was dark. I shifted into my first dance pose.

For a split second, I wondered what the hell I had been thinking.

Why was I here?

Couldn’t I have found something else to do?

This was all Hazel’s fault. She was a dancer here-and my roommate. She had convinced me to come and join in, bragging about all the cash she had earned. But right now, Hazel was sipping on Margaritas in Mexico while on vacation with her family.

I felt the music begin, the vibrations shooting through the soles of my feet. Then-the lights came on. They were blinding at first, but I didn’t lose my smile.

Dance. Just like you always have Riley.

So I did. I’d memorised this number and practised it more times than I could count. The moves came easy. They were soft, sultry and…very sexy. But that’s what they wanted-right?

And then…

The chair.

This was the part I hadn’t been sure about. It seemed a bit over the top for me to straddle a chair while rubbing my hands up my chest. But I reminded myself that it was just a dance.

I let myself get lost in the music until the very last beat.

The lights dimmed, and the applause began. Followed by whistles and cheering. I could see the cash flying towards the air as the guests threw it onto the stage. Some walked to the edge, setting a small wad on the stage. They looked up, in an attempt to catch my gaze, but I pretended like I didn’t see them.

Relief started to creep in.

I’d done it.

And…I’d honestly had fun. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?

There was something…powerful about the way they seemed to fall at my feet.

“Get moving,” a voice hissed at me. I turned to see a man in the darkness, scooping up the cash on the stage. There were at least two other men walking across, collecting my earnings.

We were meant to get off as fast as possible. I’d forgotten that part.

“Sorry!” I whispered. I turned to exit the stage.

But then…I saw him.

A man.

His face was partially hidden by the shadows of the private booth he occupied. A strobe light flickered nearby, illuminating part of his face again.

I sucked in.

Surely not? It couldn’t be.

No.

Was it him?

The man I had left behind all those years ago?

I whispered into the darkness.

“Jaxon?”