Chapter 1: Pathetically Addictive
I opened my eyes as the first rays of dawn hit the sky. Great, another sleepless night. I looked at my bedside clock, which read 5:01 am in annoyingly bright characters and groaned. Christ, I had just laid down at three, and I was already awake. So much for trying to sleep the natural way, I guess.
"You know," I said conversationally to my battered ceiling, "as a child, I never really had an insomnia problem. And now look at me. I'm twenty one, I don't smoke, I'm single, I work two jobs and I get less than twenty hours of sleep a week..." I sighed, knowing that a hot shower might make me feel less like strangling the first person in my line of sight. So I trudged across my floor (why is bare wood always colder than the weather?!) and attempted, unsuccessfully, to ignore my cat as she wound around my feet and tried to trip me for forgetting to feed her.
"I'll feed you when I'm done," I muttered, shutting the door in her face. How on Earth does a cat look indignant, anyways? A few seconds later, she pawed at the door, rocking the loose hinges ad setting my nerves on edge. Running the hot water, I stepped into the shower and cleaned up, trying to ignore the stabbing pain behind my eyes. Wrapping a large towel around me, I opened the door, purposely letting my wet hair drip onto Lucy's head. She yowled and ran into the kitchen, sulking.
I had originally named her Lucivar, for a character she reminded me of out of a book1, but somehow it had changed in the past two years to Lucy. I grinned impishly as I poured cat food into her bowl. She looked between me and the cup of water on the table, and I gave up. I'd been tying to break her of that habit, but it never worked. I grudgingly put two ice cubes into it and closed the blinds. Dropping my towel, I spaced my feet apart, beginning a calming Tai Chi workout. Of course, I'd found out, the hard way, that when sped up, Tai Chi makes for a great defense.
I looked up as I went through the last phase of my stretches to find Lucy looking at me as if I'd lost my mind. (Which I had, several years ago, in a betting match against an old boyfriend.) Her furry expression of incredulity was so adorable, I scooped her up in my arms and laughed aloud. Her furry cheek rubbed against my chin, and I could feel the vibrations of her purring. Even though we argued and fought a lot, Lucy was my baby. She'd adopted me when I moved into the apartment, against my landlord's advice2, and we took care of each other.
Finally relaxed enough, I put Lucy down and slipped into an oversized T-shirt, looking at the clock, which now read 6:59 am. As the clock turned seven, I did some rapid calculations out loud. "Alright, so it's seven now. I have to go to class at five, and then go to work at midnight. So…Yeah. Lucy, wanna try to catch some zees?" I popped a little blue pill in my mouth, just an over-the-counter sleep aid, and went back into the bedroom. Laying on my side, Lucy pressed herself against my stomach and was asleep before I was.
*-_-*-_-*
I kept having the strangest dreams, I thought as I drove to the studio. I can't seem to make sense of them, but when I wake up there's this deep, gnawing ache to be somewhere else. I don't know where, but I must wanna go there pretty badly. I chortled, glancing in my rearview mirror to check traffic. Eight minutes, two narrow crashes and one scraped fender ("Get your head outta your ass and THEN drive!") later, I pulled into the studio parking lot. Carrying my black bag with me, I pushed the doors open and walked in on my partner and my manager arguing heatedly.
"Ah, Kitys, we were just, ah, discussing your last junior class," my manager smiled nervously and I immediately put my guard up. My partner caught my eye, and using a sort of code we'd developed last year, he told me that something was wrong. Dead wrong.
"What about it?" I asked cautiously, tightening my grip on my gym bag.
"We, ah, we got a call. About you, Kitys. From a boy named," Johnson consulted his legal pad, "A boy named Devon Royl. He said that…" Johnson blushed, and wouldn't look me in the eye. My heart sank as I remembered the lanky seventeen-year-old with two left feet. Mak, my partner of three and a half years, came to stand by me, still bristling with anger.
"And I already told you, Reed, Kit wouldn't do that!" Mak turned to me with his arm around my waist. "Royl is saying that he wanted to drop out of the class and you paid him to stay in it. Paid him with sex, Kit." His gray eyes bored into mine, and I knew he didn't believe it. Hell, I couldn't believe it. That slimy, no good little twerp!
Yeah, he wanted to leave the class, after I tossed him out on his arse for grabbing ass! And now he was trying to say I assaulted him?!
"That little twerp is lucky I don't press charges after what he did to me! He grabbed my ass, Johnson! Then I threw him out of my class! For the next four days, everywhere I went, the kid followed me!" I leaned my head on Mak's shoulder, trying to find some sort of comfort in this topsy-turvy world Johnson had created for me.
"Well, still. Kitys, I know that it offends you - -"
"Damned right it offends me, Johnson! He's lying and you're going to believe him, over an instructor who's been here for…five years? Yeah, nearly five years." I grumbled, remembering the raise Reed had promised me two years ago.
"- - But as there were no cameras in your classroom, and we can't get in touch with any of your students, or else they choose not to comment, we're asking you to take a leave of absence." Johnson looked anywhere but at my eyes.
I stood stunned, leaning on Mak. "So. That's a polite way of saying I'm fired?"
"I never said that you would lose your job." Johnson stared determinedly over my head.
"Permanently," I snorted. "Fine, Johnson. You've wanted me gone since you took over from Leland two years ago. So you've got it." I unzipped my bag angrily and threw my practice shoes at him. One caught him right in the shin and I took savage pleasure from seeing his hop on one leg in pain. "Goodbye, Johnson. Hope you can find another Salsa Instructor good as me." I kissed Mak on the cheek and left without looking back.
Twenty minutes later, I was still sitting in my silver Cougar, bawling my eyes out. I couldn't believe it; the kid had promised revenge, but this? Losing my instructing job was definitely hitting me hard, as it paid better than the club did. I burbled a watery laugh as I blew my nose. Leland had set my salary at nearly ten dollars an hour. Leland, the big dance choreographer from Ireland. I'd fallen in love with his brogue, and kissed him one night, only to be called by his boyfriend the next day and cussed out for lipstick on his neck.
Leland wasn't strictly gay, but he'd been with the guy for years, so I couldn't really blame him. I got rid of my crush real quick, and Leland became one of my closest friends. He went back to Ireland two years back, handing the studio over to his pallid English cousin, Reed Johnson, whose main concern wasn't the dancing as much as the money. I'd never gotten along with Johnson; he was just one of those guys you wanted to punch in the face to save time.
I still got letters from Leland, and the occasional phone call, but not often enough. I sighed and wiped my nose with an old napkin. I was better than this. I had to be. With my procrastinating, I'd wasted nearly an hour, and I jammed my cold weather hating Cougar back onto the road, wanting only to get home.
It wasn't long, however, until blue lights were flashing in my rearview. "Just my fracking luck," I muttered, pulling into the parking lot that connected my apartment building. Pushing my hair back, I smiled once for practice and rolled down my window as a large, shiny belt buckle came into view. The officer leaned down.
"Ma'am, do you know how fast - - Oh, hey Kit." Mike, a regular at the club, smiled sheepishly. I relaxed a little, smiling a little more genuinely.
"Hey Mikey. What's up?"
"Well, you were going nearly seventy when you pulled in here, thought that was a little strange. Is anything wrong?" Mike's kind brown eyes bored into mine, refusing to let me lie.
"Nope. It's not that there's anything wrong, Mikey. Much more like there's nothing right." And without further ado, I burst into tears again. How embarrassing.
"Kit..." Mike reached his hand through my window, patting me awkwardly on the shoulder. It as no secret to the clubbers that Mike cared about me. And it was no secret that we'd been...together. But what most of them didn't know was that night was a mistake, that Mike was married, however unhappily, and that we were always friends first, uncomfortable attractees second.
"Mike, Johnson fired me. Downsized the Salsa department, however you want to put it. I no longer dance for a living." My sobs only got worse when I admitted it out loud. "He said that Royl," of course Mike remembered Royl; he'd threatened to beat the little punk with the soggy end of his legs when he stalked me, "filed a sexual complaint against me and since there were no cameras in my studios, he had to 'let me go.'" I sniffled, pulling out a wad of tissues from my glove compartment.
"I'm sorry, Kit. Want me to go talk to him?" Mike asked seriously; good ole Mikey would do anything for me. I shook my head and he smiled, kissing my cheek. Suddenly, I knew what I would do. I gave Mike a watery smile and got out of the car. Dashing upstairs, I pulled on my best flirting dress. It was emerald green, velvet (which clung to my curves like you wouldn't believe), and had two splits up the side to the thigh. Tossing my hair, I gave Lucy a distracted pat and ran back downstairs, heels in hand.
"What are you doing?" Mike asked, trying to conceal his urge to stare. I knew my body was good; hell, five years of constant dancing had toned and slimmed me to the point that I got envious stares from gay men. I patted his cheek and told him I"d meet him at the club in two hours. Whipping out my cell, I called Mak, who was still arguing with Johnson, and told him to meet me at the club now.
- --- - --- - ---
"And...slide, yes, then back step, circle, side step. I jump," grunting only barely as Mak's strong arms held me, "and then...Lover's Twist..." I twisted my rather short legs around his left thigh. Mercy, my best friend since freshman year of high school, stared as she prepped for the nightly rush. My shoes slid almost as well on the club floor as they did on a dance floor.
"Think you got it?" I asked Mak, sliding down his leg sensuously. He gulped and nodded, helping me to my feet.
"You know," Mercy said slowly, eyes to the Black Palm bartop she'd insisted on, "I don't think there's going to be one person on that floor tonight who's not gonna get hot under the collar." I smiled evilly.
"That's what I'm counting on."
- --- - --- - ---- -
That night, after a slight intro by the house band, "Dragon Descended," Mak took his place on the far side of the cleared dance floor. I waited in the shadows, moving sinuously with the slow bluesy jazz. My cue came, and I danced across the floor, my feet nearly a blur. I leapt high, and he caught me around the waist, sliding my shoes across the floor as I threw my loose hair back. I caught one of the patrons' eyes, and he swallowed a sip of his beer, watching every flash of leg my dress showed.
Finally, the finale of the Lover's Twist, and I slid down to the floor, breathing hard. Mak looked down at me and smiled, helping me to my feet to thunderous applause. "I think I speak for everyone," the lead singer drawled, "when I say 'get a room.'" I flipped him off behind my back and heard his bandmates laugh. I had known them since high school too, when they still practiced in a garage.
As Mercy had predicted, every man now had a hungry gleam in his eye, and every women used every movement to maximize her attractiveness. I smiled into one of the many beers suddenly appearing on the bar; Mercy laughed ruthlessly as she rang up beer after beer the men bought for me.
- --- - --- - --- - --- - ---
After being dropped off that night, (Alone, sadly) I dropped my heels on the floor and made my way to the bathroom. After showering, I pulled on my favorite, if holey, pajamas and curled up with Lucy on my bed. She kneaded my legs and purred away, finally drifting off to sleep. As for me, however, I had a harder time. The silence of night was getting to me.
I often had moments like this, where I would feel completely out of sync with my world. Like there was something else I was supposed to be doing, somewhere else I belonged. It certainly hadn't been either of the foster families that had tried to adopt me. My smile grew bitter as I recollected them, those ones who had tried to take me from the orphanage.
"You know, Lucas, it's not fair that you made your series pathetically addictive," I mumbled to my favorite film writer.
Sighing, I gave in, and turned on the last DVD in the player. A few minutes of promos and then the sound that relaxed me: Star Wars theme blared from my speakers. Closing my eyes, the tension left me and I felt the heaviness of sleep begin. It was episode six, I think, as I listened to the clash of lightsabers and smiled in my sleep. Little did I know that dreams could turn to nightmares without any warning from Fate.
- --- - --- - --- - ---