IV: Nolee

The music plays and I lose myself in it. With every downbeat my hips roll, every upbeat is a spin. I wish I could say I was as beautiful and as elegant as Summer Rae, the ballroom dancer who with the help of her favorite dance partner opened up the dance hall named for him, The Fandango. I wish I could say I was even as classy and sweet as Emma who helps to run one of the dance studios in town, Santino's. I wish I could tell you anything about what I truly am because it's not beautiful, elegant, classy, or sweet.

I'm a dancer at the Pedigree. If you've been there, you know me as Lacey. My real name is Nolee Lacroix.

The idea to come to Titan City was my fathers, Harris Lacroix. He is one of the meanest men I've ever known, yet at the same time one of the sweetest. He's sweet to my brothers (Carter, Vance, and Kip) and to me but if someone messes with his family, he's cold. Dad moved us here to be closer to his boss, Mister Hunter Helmsley. Hunter's a business man up front but behind the scenes he's a powerful mobster. He hired dead specifically for his skills as a private detective to keep an eye on one of his friends, a Mister Shawn Michaels. That was a couple years ago, before my dad crossed Hunter. Harris messed up the job and ended up owning Hunter a lot. Since dad's letting on in years, I've talked Hunter into letting me work off the debt.

Thus me being here at The Pedigree. I dance publically, flirt at the bar, and take private dances in the back to see if they divulge any secrets. If they do, I repeat them to the McMahon's, specifically Hunter. What he does after that is entirely his business.

It's a typical Thursday night, the usual crowd is in. I look to my left to see John Bradshaw Layfield, a business man, sitting with his lackey Micheal Cole near the bar. Front and center is Shane McMahon, the prodigal son of Mayor Vincent McMahon. But in the back is a man I've never seen before. Though the back is dark, his skin is a pale white that shines though. He looks strong, a chiseled jaw jutting out. His emerald green eyes meet mine, even from way in the back. There's an electric vitality to them and a small shiver runs down my spine. I keep swaying, wrapping my legs around the pole to swing. My back arches and the cat calls start back up.

I may not be glamorous but I'm damn good at what I do.

As my song, Cowboy by Kid Rock, ends, I exit the stage and grab my clothes as I do. The backstage bouncer, Big E, hands me a robe and I head back to my dressing area. I slip on a corset, black with hot pink accents and a cute pink bow, a tight black leather miniskirt, and black fishnets with thigh high boots. I go back to the bar, pecking Big E on the cheek before heading out to the masses. Shane gives his hello and a pat on the ass. Mr. Layfield buys me a root beer shot as I sit at the bar. I down it before a shadow looms behind me. My breath catches as I see the reflection of the pale man in the mirror. Close up he's even more imposing and slightly handsome. "You know…it's not polite to sneak up on a lady."

"Nae, it's not," the man grins, staring down at me.

I turn around, licking my lips and playing the part of the innocent dancer. It sickens me that men like girls who act like this but I do what I have to. "Then I dunno why you'd do it," I twirl a strand of my blonde hair around my finger, "Why did you do it?"

"I didn't think a pretty lass like you would talk ta a man like me otherwise," he smirks as our eyes meet again. God damned, I feel another chill down my spine. This man is dangerous, I can tell. Yet there's something else. I just can't place it.

"Oh I'd talk to you," I giggle. "Buy me a drink big boy?"

"I would like tha'," he chuckles as he calls our bartender, little Justin Gabriel, over, "Two whiskeys, on the rocks."

"Whiskey?" I ask with a surprised look. Usually I would drink whiskey or beer but at work I have a persona to keep alive. "Aren't you afraid it's too…"

"Yeh didn't wince when yeh took tha' shot," smirks the ginger man, "In my experience, yeh only do tha' when yeh can handle it."

As the bartender hands me my drink, I flash a charming smile, "I'm Lacey. And you are?"

"Smart enough t' know they only call yeh Lacey cuz o' this," he smirks as he trails a finger over the black lace collar around my neck. He licks his lips as he fingers linger on the side of my neck, "Real name lass? Or are yeh no' a' liberty t' say?"

"I'm…I'm not supposed to…"

"Then Lacey it is," he throws back his whiskey, "Me name is Sheamus."

"Sheamus…" I let the foreign name land on my lips, before sipping the whiskey. The bitter taste feels nice, "Irish or Scottish?"

"Irish. Texas?"

"Tennesse," I correct, "Well I was before I moved to Titan City."

"Yeh sound nice," he smiles again.

I take a deep breath, unsure of how to take this mans kindness. "So, Sheamus," I place a hand on his broad chest, "Would you like a dance in the back?"

"A private dance from a beautiful lass?" he smirks, "I do think tha' would be rather nice."

I take his arm, leading him to the VIP section of the club. He sits in a booth as I climb up onto the table to dance on the pole. The music starts and I close my eyes, listening to his sounds of approval as I lose myself in the music yet again.