"Are you guys ready?!" Melendine pranced across the stage, the chiffon fabric on her hips bouncing with her every step. The men in on the floor hooped and roared in that total caveman way, mesmerized by her. Even a few fists pounded on the tables. This was the whole team's favorite. Not because it was a group act, despite that they had plenty of fun with it, but because it was the highest money-maker of the week. Men threw twenty dollar bills like they were pennies in a wishing well. /Rent money,/ as Marie called it.

Melendine flew back to the end of the line, fluffing her hair and posing herself for the exit that came just seconds after. A line of seven girls flowed out onto the stage in a river of teal blue fabric and sun-kissed skin, sending their audience into a calling session before the dances ever began. This was where Elena turned into Marie. Walking through the doors changed her attitude, but getting on stage changed her completely. She felt nothing like herself. Behind makeup and wigs and skimpy costumes, she felt like she could forget about bills, about the ticking clock that was her mother, and about the loneliness that rode her. She felt powerful, beautiful, and wanted. Her body fell numb and mechanism kicked in. It was like watching herself work she was so spaced. Cloths fell, exposing more and more of a woman on the stage every moment. A cheek, a thigh, a barely-covered nipple. She even did a wag of her ass end in thanks as she felt a hand grace her with a bit of money, wedging it neatly against her string-bikinied hip. She turned on her heel and slid against the metal bar behind her, gracefully, slowly. When she finally looked up to see the crowd, fear drug her to. /He/ was there. Sitting on a bar stool, studying her. Dark eyes filled with things Elena didn't want to imagine ate every inch of her up. There was no way he /didn't/ think it was her. Not with that look on his thin ugly face. He rubbed his chin in thought, and when he finally saw her staring at him in pure fear, a wicked sneer like nothing she'd ever seen crossed his lips. He waggled his fingers at her, not bothering to move from his stool. Elena could puke. /He/ was watching her. All the effort she'd put into making sure that didn't happen, and he saw right through it. Past the makeup, past the wig, and past the height-inducing heels. Wasted. She tore away, turning her back to him, but the idea of that just made her want to hide. All the times he'd grabbed her, smacked her. Now he was just seeing her how he wanted. And she /never/ wanted to give Tyler anything he wanted. She needed so bad to get through this, but being here made her feel violated with Tyler in the room. What was this going to do to her at work? Melendine sashayed over, seeing her friend's distress. She turned, pressing her rear against Elena's lap in a grind, but turned her head away from the crowd.

"What's wrong, Marie?" she spoke, barely loud enough for Elena to hear. Elena shook her head, letting the wig flop and curtain her from the men at her feet.

"Not really, Care," she spoke near her ear, running a jeweled hand down lightly her partner's ribs in effort to ride out the dance. It was almost over. They'd all slink out soon and single dancers would grace the poles again. Elena could play behind-the-scenes the rest of the night. All would be good.

"Do you need to go?"

"I need this night to end." Caroline nodded, edging off from her friend. She nodded at the other girls, and they all flicked a second of eye contact from her to the crowd in a moment. Alternating sides, girls disappeared off the stage until Elena was left. She cast a last look to Tyler, who was unmoved, just like the gaze he held on her. It sent a shiver down her spine, and she quickly but gracefully made her exit.

"Okay, what /happened/ out there, Elena?" Caroline hissed as her friend weakly fumbled off the steps and down the hall. Elena shook her head, pulling the wig from her head, then the stocking the bound her brown locks to her scalp.

"Tyler was out there, Care," she choked. Caroline's blue eyes blinked in shock. "God help me."

"Maybe he didn't notice you," she started, "There's six other girls. Surely he looked at the rest of them. No offense."

"You didn't see him," Elena quivered. "He was watching me like a /hawk./ He waved, for Christ's sake."

"Okay, look," Caroline tried. She knew Elena was scared what he might do if he knew she worked here. /Caroline/ was scared. While Tyler was greedy, he wasn't exactly the most gentlemanly out there. Caroline had spent three days trying to talk her friend /out/ of taking the job at that greasy, gloppy restaurant, but Elena needed the money so bad she couldn't refuse it. So instead, she vowed to help her keep her job at the Turve as underwraps as possible. "We'll figure something out. I promise you. Heels clicked against tile and Jeanine's voice broke Elena's concentration. Or lack thereof.

"What happened out there, sweetie?" She looked thoroughly concerned. Despite it Elena wished Jeanine would genuinely fuck off.

"Just...sick. I'm okay. I'm going to just stay back here the rest of the night." Elena rubbed her temples, head pounding.

"Need one?" Jeanine's long, manicured fingers dipped into her robe again, finding that white heaven just like she was reading her mind. /God. Yes./ More than anything. She'd love it. Just to knock off the edge.

"No, I've got some at home. It can wait. I'm fine." She spat out the words in a blur, but Jeanine just shrugged.

"You'll be okay. You know where to find me." Like she expected Elena to show. That irked her, but she was really in no mood to be bothered with it. She pulled herself from the railing and grabbed the shoes from her feet, dropping them in Caroline's arms.

"Go ahead and open dances early, Care," she sighed. "I'll keep them running. Make some extra bucks tonight." Caroline scoffed.

"Are you nuts? As long as Loony Lockwood is out there, no dances. He'd kill for that. Just...stay here, and I'll keep the stage for you. Hell, get Beamer to take you home. You don't have to be here." Elena laughed, hard.

"Caroline, there's no reason for me to be home. I just...don't need to be out there tonight. There's plenty for me to do back here." Caroline pursed her lips as if to signal her displeasure with her friend's decision, but then nodded, finding the scarf that another girl was draping across her shoulders.

"You know where to find me."

"Yes, ma'am, miss manager," Elena saluted playfully, but Caroline quickly put a hand over her friend's mouth.

"Shh! I don't need Jeanine hearing that. I'll be her next target and I do /not/ need that on my plate right now." She laughed almost melodically. "Besides. /You're/ the best house momma this place ever had."

"Just call me a manager. I hate that word." Elena laughed. Caroline joined in, then pointed eagerly to the stage.
"Paycheck's waiting. Love you!"

Elena wound herself in a robe. Whose, she didn't know. She just needed to be away from the front of the house. Tyler knew. That was her newest worry. He was as greasy as those burgers he dished out everyday and twice as shady. God, how she wished she listened to Caroline sometimes. But it was good paying. She scored in tips, and the place was popular. But then Tyler started cooking, firing the main chef in effort to save money. The place went down, and so did Elena's income. Now she did it because, with that extra cash, she could get something done. Now she was beginning to feel that it wasn't even worth it. She'd rather get hit by a truck than face him at work tomorrow. Elena groaned, smacking her head against the cushion of the nail table.

"Suck it up, Elena," she muttered, eyes glued to the table in front of her. She was in a daze, tired and aching for bed, but that was nothing new. She forgot what sleep was like. Hell, she was at the point that sleep was only an option when it wasn't. "Two hours." She slid open her drawer and stuck fingers under the belly side of it, pads searching for that tiny plastic bag that would push her through.