Disclaimer: I don't own Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift
AN: This is my first story I've actually gotten motivated enough to turn into something worth putting up, so I'm really excited to get some reviews on it!! This is just the beginning so things aren't really getting interesting yet but they will soon I promise. :)
Life is simple; you make choices and you don't look back.
"Come on, Superstar, you're up next!" A voice called back to the dressing rooms. "The Yakuza kid is here, and you and Cho are the best we've got tonight."
A small sixteen year old girl clad in a lacy black corset and matching panties sat at her booth with her head buried in her hands. All she could ever think about before she went onstage was how badly she hated the life she lived, and how different things could have been if her mother were still alive.
Three more fore warnings that she'd better hurry came from the club's owner before she finally lifted her head up and began applying another heavy coat of her dark red colored lip gloss.
"He seems stressed tonight, huh?" Cho asked from the booth behind her. "He always is when important clients stop by."
The young Japanese girl turned around and sighed, before getting up with a pair of black fishnets and kneeling beside Aimi to help her get ready. She looked up at her with a look of sadness and understanding, knowing that while she hated what she was doing it was the only chance she had at making a decent living for herself.
Aimi wasn't cut out to be a stripper. While she had the looks and the moves for it, her heart was always somewhere else, dreaming of what she wished she could be, hoping that someday her dreams would turn into a reality. But she could never earn this kind of money working anywhere else, especially having dropped out of school early so she could take care of Momo.
"I just hate getting out there and stripping for those Yakuza pigs," Aimi muttered, shaking her head. "Sometimes I think I would rather go hungry than dance for them. And if it weren't for Momo, I would."
Cho smirked and took Aimi's right leg, lifting it and slipping the fishnet stocking on before moving to do the left one.
"Those are the people who pay for the way you live, you know," she mused before hurrying back to her own table to put her shoes on.
"Well I don't have much to thank them for, then. The way I live is having enough to just get by," Aimi spat before pulling her hair up into a loose bun and turning to examine herself in the mirror.
With long, silky brunette hair and lightly tanned skin, Aimi could have been the spitting image of her mother's sister in her youth. From her height to her face to the shape of her curves, it was almost haunting how much she resembled her late aunt, the only difference between the two being the eyes. Those, Aimi recieved from her mother. They were a brilliant, light shade of hazel, the only thing that Aimi had to remember her beautiful mother by, and unlike any others she had seen. They were what set her look apart from the other girls in Tokyo, and she was proud that the only feature she inherited from her mother turned out to be the best one.
Her mother had died when Aimi was nine, along with her aunt and her brother Naota. It was the most devastating thing she had ever been put through, but Aimi never cried about it. She had grown up so fast already, and taught herself not to ever let her weaknesses show. According to Momo, their deaths were by utter bad luck; a shooting at her aunt's tea house, leaving no survivors and the culprits never caught. It had been the first time in a long time that her mother had gotten to visit her sister, bringing her young son along to meet his aunt for the first time, while Aimi stayed at Momo's with the chicken pox.
Momo was a wise old woman, a friend of Aimi's mothers. So she was the only person Aimi had left after what happened, and had taken her in without a second thought. The night that Aimi and Momo got the news, they were on a Tokyo-bound train, "ready to start a new life", as Momo had put it. And Aimi stayed with her in her little apartment just big enough for the both of them up until she got her job, where free housing was provided, although a medium sized dorm being shared by six girls each hardly seemed like adequate housing. She would still see Momo once or twice each month and give her half of her pay, no matter how much she would protest and try and deny the money. Still being able to provide for her made Aimi feel like she actually had a purpose in life, like even if she only really mattered to one person, at least she mattered at all.
Aimi could feel the memories swelling up inside her, but she wouldn't let it show. Taking a few gulps from her water bottle and once again turning to her mirror, she forced them back down into the pit of her stomach, and into the back of her mind, where they would always stay but never be revealed.
"Cho and Aimi!" The two girls jumped in their seats, suddenly noticing the large figure standing in the doorway. Aimi reached for her shoes and shoved them on, all thoughts of her past now replaced with the fear of being fired if she didn't get out onto the stage.
"If you two don't want your asses out of here now, you'd better get them on stage." Chiyuu was the owner's name, although with his rough demeanor and height of about 6'4", he looked more like he could be the club's bouncer.
"Sorry boss.." Cho rushed to pull her hair into a loose ponytail and scampered through the door, receiving a shove from Chiyuu on her way out.
"You're up, Superstar." Chiyuu smirked, walking over to Aimi and giving her a kiss on the top of her head. "Now get out there and make me proud."
Aimi just rolled her eyes and stood up, but decided to turn things up before she left. Turning, she brought her face close to Chiyuu's and whispered suggestively into his ear, "Every move I make out there, everything I do.. It's all for you, baby."
This earned a cocky smirk and a tap on the butt, and if she was lucky, some extra clients throughout the night.
Cho flashed her a knowing smile once she walked through the door. "Well, we know you'll be getting extra business tonight."
"I hope. Just the perks of being the girlfriend of a strip club owner, I guess," Aimi sighed, stopping to readjust the top of her corset before walking onstage. "Alright, lets go."
It was a long and dreadful night for Aimi, doing striptease after striptease for the numerous men, namely the young Yakuza boy and his posse. They couldn't get enough of her, calling her back time and time again, except for one in particular in the back of the group who was already surrounded by girls, stretched out across the seat and looking as if being with gorgeous, half-naked women happened on a daily basis for him. And while Aimi hated dancing for the vulgar, ruthless Yakuza members, they were loaded, and she desperately needed the money. And so she did her dances which ended with her in nothing but her heels and stockings, and by two in the morning she was finally finished and packing her clothes back into her suitcase, still unable to shake the hungry faces of the mafia boys from her mind.
She arrived home to find Cho, who had left an hour earlier, already asleep on the couch, their small television set still on and playing an old Japanese cartoon in black and white. Smiling, she didn't even stop on her way to the couch to count her tips for the night; instead she just snuggled up next to her friend, holding her close as she let herself relax and simply fall into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.