Hi, guys! I'm back. It's still a little slow going on this story, but I just had to share it with you guys. I'm really happy with it. As mentioned, it is based off the movie Burlesque. Some scenes are lifted directly out of the movie and some things are out of order for plot purposes. Bare with me if the updates take some time! I'm sorry!
Disclaimer: Does not own Glee or Burlesque
Sebastian dug in the pockets of his apron. Beside him, Jenn was already counting her earnings for the day. It had been a slow afternoon so tips were pretty meager. On top of that, even in the summer Lima, Ohio wasn't exactly a booming metropolis. $11.42 total. He sighed. He'd had better, not much better, but better. Jenn looked up from her sweeping.
"How'd you do?" she asked.
"Not great. You?"
"$14.09," she told him. He rolled his eyes.
"They like you better," he muttered.
"Well, maybe if you weren't so sarcastic and condescending," she pointed out. He shrugged. They were quiet for a moment before he spoke again.
"I'm leaving, Jenn," he said. She looked up.
"You said that before you went to school," she replied.
"I mean it this time," he insisted, "I've got a woefully useless degree in musical theatre and a minor in dance. I'm going to the only place it's got any use."
"And where might that be?" she asked, leaning on the handle of the broom.
"LA," he replied decisively.
"Thought it'd be New York," she muttered.
"I tried New York. It kind of failed; that's why I'm back here," he sniffed. "LA is one of the few places people with zero talent can still get an acting role, even if it's shitty." She snorted.
"You're not wrong. When are you going?"
"Soon as my check gets here. My lease is up, my stuff is either packed or sold; I'm getting out."
"Yeah, good luck. He hasn't paid us for last week yet," she said. Just then, their manager came in.
"Bill, can we have our pay checks?" Sebastian asked, jumping off the counter he'd been perched on.
"No. Clean off that counter," Bill replied shortly.
"Why not? You haven't even paid us for last week. We kind of need that money," Sebastian snapped.
"I'm busy. I'll be back for the late shift," he said, walking out the door.
"Goddamn," Sebastian hissed. He marched to the manager's office – thankfully the door didn't have a lock – and let himself in.
"Sebastian, what are you doing?" Jenn demanded, following him.
"I'm getting our pay checks. I know he has them," he said.
"Aha!" he cried triumphantly a second later, producing the file of pay checks. He shoved Jenn's checks at her. "Go, you're late picking up the kids."
"I have to clean up," she protested.
"Go. I got it covered," he insisted, "Shelby will cry if you're late again."
"You're really going?" she whispered.
"Yeah. As soon as the cleaning is done, I'm off the clock and I'm gone," he said. She hugged him slightly tearfully.
"Take this," she shoved her tips at him.
"Jenn, you need those." It was his turn to protest.
"You need them more. If I see you in a movie or commercial, I'll ring you up and demand a refund." He smiled at her.
"Thanks, Jenn," he whispered, pulling his unofficial mother into another hug.
"I'll miss you, kiddo," she said.
"I'll miss you, too," he confessed. Then he propelled her out the door and waved her off.
Alone, he looked disdainfully at the broom Jenn had left. Yeah, he would clean up, but he wouldn't do as good a job as Jenn ever did. He didn't care enough to. He wandered over to it idly before deciding to forgo the cleaning for now. Instead, he turned on his iPod and went for the small stage set up for open mic nights or poetry slams. He grabbed the mic and hit play.
My eyes are open wide
By the way I made it through the day
I watch the world outside
By the way I'm leaving out today
He finally let it out. When he sang, it was usually quietly; singing along to the radio under his breath. Jenn had commented once or twice on his singing voice and he had been good enough to pull through NYADA near the top of his class, but he didn't sing very much anymore. Sure, he and a few Warblers who hadn't gotten out of Ohio still met up and did little shows for Dalton but that was about it. It felt good to finally just let loose.
Tell my mother, tell my father
I've done the best I can
To make them realize
This is my life
I hope they understand
I'm not angry, I'm just saying
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance
He let the final note echo through the Lima Bean. He closed his eyes. He really was leaving. And thank the fucking Lord. He stepped down and grabbed the broom, making quick work of the clean up. He had a rental car packed with the two suitcases he was bringing, one stop at the bank to cash his check and he was off.
He'd searched the yellow pages before heading out and found a cheap little apartment looking over the busiest sections of the city. It was a little decrepit and kind of shady, but he could see it being home. He unpacked and returned the rental car; he didn't have enough money to own a car himself. He hid small stacks of cash throughout the apartment, praying at least one of them would be safe if he were robbed. He then opened his ancient laptop and began his job hunt.
He tossed another sheet of paper in the trash. Two days and he'd already been turned down for nine openings. Didn't matter that he was unfairly gorgeous or had gotten a degree from NYADA, he apparently just didn't have that "star quality" everyone was looking for. City of Angels his ass. He needed to unwind and he needed a good fuck. Tomorrow he'd be back on his feet. But tonight he needed to get drunk if only to remember why he ever thought LA was a good idea. He passed several bars before one finally looked promising.
It didn't exactly have a line outside. In fact, it looked a little bit dead. The sign read 'Strip Tease' in flickering neon and there was an arrow pointing to a set of stairs. A sign proclaiming their motto—'Some views don't require windows'—adorned the wall of the stair well. He was skeptical, but it seemed like an excellent place to start; or to at least find some decent gay man to suck off. He headed down into the club in time to catch the opening number of the night.
"No sense in imagining, Darling," came a syrupy voice next to his elbow. The bouncer winked at him before holding out a hand. "$20."
"Is this just a unisex strip club?" he asked.
"Strip? Good God, I should have the bartenders washing your mouth with cosmos," he said, pressing a hand to his heart. "It's a strip tease, honey. This is something we like to call a burlesque show around here. You going to watch or what?" He held out his open hand again. Sebastian pressed a twenty into his hand. "Enjoy," the bouncer proclaimed, waving him in.
He took a place at the bar, watching the men's hips move in fantastic ways. Each of them only wore either a pair of extremely tight black pants, or sinfully small black shorts. There certainly was nothing left to the imagination.
"Something to drink?" came a slightly high male voice from behind him. He swiveled. A stunning creature in all black was waiting for his answer.
"I'm a little broke right now," he managed. The bartender smiled knowingly.
"Welcome to LA," he said, setting a scotch down in front of him. He was tall, not quite as tall as Sebastian, with delicate bone structure and light brown hair. His cheek bones were positively regal and his jaw smooth and nicely slanted. His eyes seemed to glimmer even in the dim lights of the club. To Sebastian they looked a stormy blue-gray. And was that eyeliner he saw? "Where are you from?" he asked.
"Ohio," he replied.
"Really? Where abouts?"
"Westerville."
"Huh, I grew up in Lima," the bartender said.
"Really?"
"Yeah, my dad moved me to Columbus just before high school, though," he explained. Sebastian nodded and turned back to the show. The bartender poked their lazy waitress into action. He eyed the dancers thinking only one thing: I should be doing that.
"Hey," he caught the bartender's attention, "Who does a guy have to flirt with to get from here to that stage?" The bartender smirked.
"You? Flirting?" he gave a laugh. "It won't do much, but you can try my name." He passed him a card. "Through that door. You're looking for Santana," he continued. He pointed to a door beside the stage.
"Thanks," Sebastian said, pausing to look at the card, "Kurt." Kurt shrugged and turned back to his customers.
He pushed into the back area, finding what he assumed was the dressing room. It was a bustle of life and he wondered if this maybe wasn't the best idea. Still, he squared his shoulders and tried not to stare at the beautiful men surrounding him. He tapped one of them on the shoulder.
"I'm looking for Santana," he asked. The man indicated a tall, stunning Latina doing her make-up. "Thanks." He approached her carefully, she looked like she could tear his head off in one go if she wanted to.
"Who are you and why are you back here? You're not one of my dancers," she snapped immediately upon noticing him.
"Uh, no, no I'm not," he said quickly. "I'm a friend of Kurt's and I was hoping you were looking for more dancers." The woman appraised him.
"Tall is good, but your teeth are too big and your face is awkwardly thin. I guess it works for you, even if you do remind me somewhat of a chipmunk. Leave your name and contact information with Jeff and he'll call when we have an opening," she replied in a clipped tone. Sebastian was a little taken-aback. That was the first time anyone had blatantly insulted his looks to his face. But he turned to see the blond she'd indicated.
"Um, can you tell me when that might be? I'm kind of desperate," he began, but was interrupted by a tiny brunette.
"Santana, I twisted my ankle in the last dance, could I sit this one out?" she asked.
"No, Girl Hobbit, you can't," she hissed.
"You're the only one light enough for Thad to hold up," a lean blond reminded her. "If you fall, leg up, boobs out. Try to remember you're a goddess."
"Thank you, Jeff," she gushed and rushed off. Santana snorted. Sebastian tried again, but was cut off once more.
"Jeff, where the hell is Quinn?" Santana snapped.
"Late. Where else would she be?" he answered simply.
"I'm never late," Sebastian said quickly. God, did he sound pathetic.
"That's great. Go leave your information with Kurt and we'll give you a call," Jeff said dismissively. He propelled Sebastian out of the room and he quickly found himself back at the bar.
"How'd the flirting go?" Kurt asked him, smirking. He glowered. Kurt just laughed and went back to work.
He turned back to the floor. A group of girls were up there now and not holding his interest at all. His eyes searched the room, looking for whoever else was completely uninterested in the performance. He didn't come up blank. But the thing he most noticed was their good-for-nothing waitress. Please, he could do twice as well. And with that, he snatched one of the silver platters and went out on the floor.
"Two martinis, extra dry and a Sex on the Beach," he called. Kurt raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, you work here now, do you?" he asked.
"Look, if I'm not a thousand times better than Brainless over there I'll leave and never set foot in here again," he said, "One night. I'm desperate."
"Clearly," Kurt muttered, but turned to get him the drinks.
"Hey," he heard a voice as he wiped down the last table. It was near 1 in the morning. He looked up to see Kurt pulling on a jacket; everyone else had trickled home. "You're hired. Be here tomorrow at three; you'll start your training. Oh, and wear something tight and black." Sebastian grinned.
"Thanks," he said.
"Go home," was all Kurt returned with. He headed outside. He was just hailing a cab when the roar of a motorcycle approached him. The driver lifted his black visor.
"I don't remember getting your name," Kurt called over the engine.
"Sebastian," he supplied, climbing into the cab. Kurt lifted a hand in a good-bye and snapped his visor back into place, pulling out into the street. Dear God, if that wasn't sexy…
YAYY! Hope you guys love it already! Review would be epic!