A/N: Alright, I've been working on this idea for a little while, and I finally decided to post it! As always, reviews are awesome.
Disclaimer: If I owned Rent...there would be no war. Somehow.
It was a normal night at the Cat Scratch Club. The place was about half-full, the crowd an assortment of balding men in their forties gulping beers and businessmen tossing back glasses of Scotch. The girls danced to blaring music, casting off seductive smiles much like they did their clothes. Even if you weren't smoking, you were inhaling so much secondhand that it hardly mattered.
Mimi was scheduled to go on in five minutes. Backstage, she was sitting in front of one vanities, dabbing at her eye shadow. Last week, the club owner had splurged on some new outfits… if they could be called that. Mimi's was a bronze bandeau with a matching mini-skirt that would have been too small on a cat, complete with 4-inch heels. The backstage manager was one of the strictest in all of New York. A former Vegas showgirl, Beatrice Harpley (who had masqueraded as Stinger during her show days; Beatrice-Bee-Stinger) was hell-bent on perfecting the outfits. Put on the wrong heels, and she wouldn't let you perform. Contrary make-up, then heaven help you. Because of this, all the girls paid close mind to their costumes. To match the bronze bikini, Mimi had dusted her eyelids with shimmering russet eye shadow and rimmed them with a brown eyeliner. Her lips were painted golden-brown color. Looking in the mirror, Mimi couldn't help but make the comparison between herself and those copper-colored statues you see in the park. Nonetheless, she was confident of her appearance. The men who made up the clientele never looked that closely, anyways. Mimi pushed the chair back from the table and got up, walking toward the stage.
Beatrice had set up her desk right to the side of the stage entrance, where she could handle the paperwork while being able to inspect every dancer before they went out. When she reached Beatrice, Mimi turned a full circle, waiting for her approval. Like always, she nodded and waved her forward. Mimi never had a problem with Bea, a fact that some girls admired and others resented.
Mimi was standing at the top entrance, the one that led to the high platform. Four other girls were situated near the lower staircases that led to the main stage. As usual, Mimi was the star of the show. The last notes from the previous song died out. The new one had a steady, deafening beat that seemed to make the entire building shudder. The crowd was already into it. Down below, the four girls entered the stage and sashayed to a pole. Mimi strutted forward onto the dais. While the dancers on the poles swung around them, or climbed them, or shimmied in front of them, Mimi traveled the length of the platform, with the occasional spin or kick. Reaching the stairs, she started to descend. When she was most of the way down, she hooked her leg over one of the banisters, lifting herself so she was sitting on top of it.
The crowd, at this point, was ravenous.
Mimi smiled temptingly at them. Whipping her hair, she jumped off the railing and strolled closer to the edge of the stage. She was close enough to see the dollar bills a lot of the men were holding out. Mostly singles, with the occasional fiver. Mimi knew, from experience, that if she held out a few more minutes, those ones would turn into fives or even tens.
So she shook her head teasingly and backed a little farther away. Out of the corner of her eye, Mimi could see the front right pole, where Molly was messing around with a good looking guy in his late twenties or early thirties. She would circle around the pole and then out, close to him, then whisk back onto the stage. He was grinning, eyebrow raised. Molly did love to be a flirt, not that anyone held it against her.
She seemed to be getting a good response, so Mimi followed her lead. She moved closer to the front row of men. She messed with one's hair, then draped her arm over the shoulder of another. Now the higher bills were coming out. Mimi took a five-dollar bill and a ten, plus a couple of singles.
A stray thought ran through her mind: these guys were so predictable. Show a little special attention, and they would start giving you money. It was always the same. Tonight, though, it seemed especially tiring. Mimi was eager to finish her shift and return home, where Roger would be waiting for her. No matter how late she got off work, he would stay up until she got home. Maybe he wanted to be sure he was safe. Maybe he was just lonely during the time she was gone. Either way, it was the best part of her day.
Still distracted, Mimi lowered herself onto the floor, weaving between guys. They held out bills, some of which she took. A couple guys tried to get her to stop for them, but Mimi brushed the off with a fake-mocking smile.
Making her way back to the stage, Mimi spotted one guy who was holding out a twenty. That didn't happen very often; while a lot of money did go as tips for the dancers, most of it was used to buy drinks. Mimi snatched it, rewarding the man with a flirtatious wink.
She was just about past the guy and near the stage when she heard him speak. "Hey, baby, don't I get a little something for that?"
Ugh, one of those guys. The kind that thought that maybe he'd get a little company on his lap because he tipped a stripper a high bill. Still, she had to treat everything like a joke.
"Sorry, bud. Wouldn't want to make these other gentlemen jealous," Mimi tossed over her shoulder, ready to head back to the stage.
"Now, slow down, slow down." Damn. He was persistent. "I'm not a bad guy, you'll see."
Already in a not-so-shining mood, Mimi was now considering getting Paul, the bouncer, to shut this guy up. One look at the 6 ft. 9 inch, 210 lb. man was usually enough to quiet unruly patrons.
Mimi only got another step away, then she felt a hard yank on her arm. She had to look to behind her to believe it. This jerk had actually grabbed her wrist, and he wasn't letting go! Who the hell did he think he was?!
She tried to pull her arm back, but just got drawn closer. Mimi wasn't exactly scared yet, but edgy enough to wish Paul were around. She tried again. "Look, man, I don't know what you think you're doing, but you better let go of me right now and piss off, okay? I'm sure some street hooker will be more accommodating."
The guy actually laughed. "But see, I don't want some street hooker."
Another hard yank, and Mimi fell forward into him. Scrambling to pick herself up, she only succeeded in attracting the attention of men surrounding them. No one tried to help her, they just chuckled and waited to see what would happen next. Nobody that could be of any help was around.
"Let go!" Mimi yelled.
He was too strong. Mimi was forced onto his lap, kept there by two strong arms.
A few other guys were sitting at the table, laughing like it was some big joke. "She's a feisty little thing, ain't she Rick?" one of them called.
The guy, Rick, smirked and nodded. "Looks like it." What he said next was directed to Mimi. "Think we ought teach you to mind your manners, sweetie?"
Dread rose up inside of her like a wave, and for a moment, Mimi couldn't think straight. She could barely process what was happening around her.
The man sitting next to Rick was twisting a lock of her hair around his finger, jerking it every so often. On the other side, a guy was sliding his hand higher and higher up her leg. Rick was now restraining her with one arm. His other was creeping around her shoulder and toward her chest. His cologne was way too thick, like a cloud of poison. It was making her head swim. She was close enough to smell stale beer on his breath. These guys were definitely drunk, and they were the dangerous kind of drunks.
Truly afraid, Mimi bucked and tried to wrench herself free. "Help!" she called, but no one came.
It did get these guy's attention, though. The one playing with her hair tugged it sharply. "Keep your mouth shut now, that's a girl."
The one called Rick also looked at Mimi, frowning. "None of that. Ease up a bit. We boys can be quite civil to a lady, if she returns the favor." He winked at his companions.
Mimi struggled desperately. The man on Rick's right had his hand practically up her skirt, and Rick himself was groping her to his heart's content. Why wasn't anyone noticing? Why weren't they helping?
Mimi had lived in New York her whole life. She had been diagnosed as HIV positive at 15. She was a stripper at one of the most popular clubs around, for God's sake! Mimi Marquez was not an easy scare. But now, the only thing she was feeling was pure terror.
Ironically, the thing that saved her was a result of men's sexist natures. Something about short skirts, skimpy tops, and heels just turned them on. In this case, it's what put them off- or maybe it was just that 4 inch heels really, really hurt when they're jabbed into your shin.
"Ow! That bitch kicked me!" the man on the right yelled.
Mimi had managed to get left leg free enough to jab him. Rick looked up, surprised. In that moment in which he was off guard, Mimi jerked out of his hold, adding in another kick for good measure. Rushing to get away, Mimi yanked her head forward. Her hair was freed, but some of it must have been pulled off, because her head started throbbing, adding to the pounding headache she already had.
Pushing her way through the crowd, looking over her shoulder to make sure she wasn't being pursued, Mimi got to the side of the stage. She couldn't go back on. She just couldn't.
Heart beating wildly, eyes searching frantically for a way out of this dark, crowded place where there wasn't any oxygen.
She spotted the side entrance. It took her much to long to reach the door. She threw it open and hurried out into the dark alley. The heels were too cumbersome, so Mimi kicked them off and started running toward the street.
Through the haze of fear and adrenaline, Mimi needed a few seconds to get her bearings. Her apartment was a twenty minute walk away. As intimidating as that sounded at the moment, it was better than waiting for a taxi to take pity on her, better than being shoved into a cramped space over which she had no control.
Barely clothed, shoeless, and freezing, Mimi hastened down the street as quickly as she could. Every step took her farther away from that place, those people. But every step was harder, more of a challenge. The world was tilting, rolling and shifting beneath her feet. Mimi didn't know if she could make it to her building. Hell, she didn't know that she could take another step until she already had. All she wanted was to lie down and close her eyes and breathe.
A/N: Okay, thanks for reading! Reviews=love.