Here's the next chapter. I hope you like it. Expect the next one at the end of April. I need to know: who should Maureen end up with: Mark or Roger? I need to know because it effects how I write chapter 4. If I don't get some votes, you don't get chapter 4. Simple as that. From what I see, RENTlovers are good about giving votes. Please don't disapoint me. Enjoy the story. Critique is more than welcome.
-Serendipity kat
Chapter 2
A wave of smoke and the stench of beer greeted her as she pushed open the gilded doors of the club. There were tables and chairs everywhere. None of them were empty, though. They were all filled with some form of beer-drinking, cigarette-smoking, testosterone-filled males. As she weaved her way towards the back, some of the regulars called to her.
"Hey, hey, Baby! Can't wait to see your ass, babe."
"V! Give me some, some suuugar!" one guy yelled drunkenly.
You know you want me, V!"
"V is in the house!"
She plastered on her trademark smile and tossed her head of dark chocolate-brown curls. She spun around seductively, her coat opening a bit so they could see a smidge of her outfit. The guys who had called out to her, just stared back in a drunken stupor. While it was revealing, she would ultimately change into something else for her show. She gave a throaty laugh and continued to move towards the back. But not without a couple of ass slaps and pinches. When she got there, she noticed a girl. Yes, a girl. The poor thing didn't look any older than 15. Not that Maureen was much older. She was 19 and already a star. At least, she was a star in the underworld, not in the normal world. No, she didn't fit in there. Up there was a world full of college degrees and business suits. Down here was a place of sex, drugs, and cheap liquor. This was where she belonged, but not this girl. As she stopped and swiped a beer from the bar, Maureen silently surveyed the girl.
She looked about 5'4" and of Latino descent. She was tiny compared to Maureen's 5'9". She had curly hair like Maureen's except jet black that was pulled back in a messy ponytail. She had on a sweatshirt that looked too big and a pair of pants that looked too small. The sweatshirt was old and dirty. Probably an old boyfriend's or something. Maureen thought, then she snorted. She wondered if that was all the girl had from one of them. Maureen had all sorts of… souvenirs from previous guys.
Her appearance looked as if she had gotten ready in a hurry. But even in the dim light of the club, there was an almost angelic glow about this, this… child. The last time Maureen had seen this, she'd been 14 and forced to baby-sit her neighbor's 2-year old. Not that she actually paid much attention to the kid, she was too busy necking the 15 year-old son. Among other things… Her lips curled into a smile. But it wasn't a mocking smile, it was a sad one. How awful for this girl to become caught up in the tangled world of sex, drugs, money, power, corruption, and rock 'n' roll that was the underbelly of New York City. For the first time in countless years, Maureen felt a chip of the ice block that she had molded around her heart melt. She winked at the bartender, Lissa, and made her way to the girl and the guarded door that lead to the dressing rooms.
"Are you Marima?" she asked.
The girl looked a bit frightened at her tone. She looked down at her scruffy shoes and mumbled something.
"Honey, you're going to have to speak louder than that, if you want to make it in this world." Maureen chided gently. She reached out a gloved had and gently lifted the mocha colored chin. "Are you Marima?" she asked again.
Green eyes stared back into her own blue ones.
"Yes. Are you Maureen?" she asked timidly.
Maureen nodded. "Let's go." She reached down and grabbed Marima's duffle bag and went up to the door. "Hey, Scott." She greeted the tough-looking guard.
"Hey yourself, Mo. Colleen's having a fit, watch what you say." He replied and let the two of them in behind the door.
The atmosphere behind the door was so much different from the main room. Off to the right were several doors. And going up above them were some metal stairs, platforms that almost looked like a catwalk, and more doors. It front of all the stuff was a huge double curtain. The first curtain was opaque and the second curtain was sheer. That was where the dancers went after spending time getting ready. She pointed to the apparatuses.
"Those are where we enter onto the stage. Since you're new, Colleen probably won't let you out during hours for a couple of days. You'll get to practice, however, during non-hours." She continued to walk on past the catwalks to another doorway. That door opened up into a long skinny hallway lined with doors on either side. Several of the doors opened and girls emerged.
"Mo, you're late." One girl, a blonde, cackled. She was wearing what could be a bikini top, but was really two thin pieces of material held up by invisible straps. The rest of her costume was covered in feathers. "I hope you get what's coming." The blonde smiled nastily and stalked towards the door.
"Who's that?" Marima asked softly.
Maureen shook her head, her brown curls flying everywhere. She pushed open a door that had her name on it. "Her name, or… her stage name is Coco. Her real name is Desiree. She's a bitch." She gave Marima a sidelong glance. "I should warn you, people aren't exactly friendly to me here. The same goes for anyone who's my friend." She did air quotes around the word 'friend.' She set the girl's bag down on the ratty sofa that was shoved into her dressing room.
Her dressing room wasn't large, but it wasn't as small as some of the other girls. It had a small wooden closet, a ratty sofa that had stuffing popping out at places, a medium sized trunk which was overflowing with feathers and sequins, and a large lighted vanity. The vanity was made of knotty wood and the floor was covered with peeling and cracking paper. The walls were covered in a gaudy-looking light pink tile. There was an attempt made to dress it up with the addition of a small black rug and several pictures on the walls. It was very messy. Maureen had never been a neat person. But despite everything, she was a clean person. She hated getting dirty, which was ironic because of her profession. As she slammed the door shut with her foot and began to undress, the whole room shook a bit. "Hand me that skirt over there, Marima." Her voice was muffled by her shirt.
"Here." Mo felt a skirt being thrust at her. "Is, is this what you wanted?" she looked up to see the girl holding a longish red sequined skirt. She shook her head. "Honey, that's a bit too conservative for what we do. I only have that because that's what I started out in as a waitress. You're lucky. 'Cause apparently Colleen wants you to start straight on the floor." Maureen watched Marima's face closely and saw several emotions flit across her face. Fear, excitement, loathing, and longing all were visible to Maureen's trained eyes. She knew how to read emotions because her job depended on it. If she could read her audience, she could sell the performance better. She knew when they were bored or excited or alive. Not that it was a problem when it came her turn up on the catwalk. She never had any problems or a bored house. She was the star.
"Go into the closet over there and bring me the yellow case." She instructed Marima. The girl did so and brought it to her. Meanwhile, Maureen pulled on a dark ruby-red sparkly skirt over her black fishnets. She still in her bra, however. Mo opened the case up and withdrew a pink sparkly halter-top, pink fishnets, pink high-heeled boots, and a black skirt. This was her first costume. It held sentimental value for her even though it wasn't hers. "This was my first costume." The other girl just stared at it. A thoughtful look came over Mo's pretty face. "In fact, I want you to have it. Welcome to the underworld of sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll."
