Taken In

Dressing Room

"20 MINUTES 'TIL SHOW TIME GIRLS!"
Fucking megaphone, this dressing room is tiny for God's sake.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP WE CAN SEE THE CLOCK!"
Angel screamed back, right pass my ear and defeaning me more than the megaphone ever could. But I laughed anyway, she was screaming my thoughts exactly.
Angel had crooked yellow teeth, and a stunning smile that stretched her whole face. Her hair was butter yellow, and she wouldn't tell what she used on it. She never wore anything other than red lipstick and golden glitter eyeshadow. She was gorgeous, suited her name, and wore the outfit to match.
I'd admired her since I arrived, and she'd taken me straight under wing. She called me her 'Cherub', and even though my name was Sunny when I walked through the door, now it was 'Cherub' on stage, and 'Cheri' behind the stage doors. I didn't mind, the more layers I wore, the better. Even if they were just layers of names.
Marty, who was our backstage manager, ignored Angels heckles and stomped up the line. He was good at ignoring the women in the dressing room, most of us thought he was gay. I appreciated him more than some of the other managers I'd had, who treated the dressing room like their own personal finger buffet.
Angel sat on the table, holding her eye shut as she applied layers and layers of that cheap golden eyeshadow.
"Heard you're on the floor tonight." I said.
She scoffed, but didn't stop coating her face.
"Can you believe it? Friday night and they put me on the floor like some little traybake?! I told Gusto that I wasn't going out, but he said I could keep 75 percent tonight, and he promised I'd be on the single booths tomorrow."
She sighed, and then smiled at me in the mirror.
"Looks like we'll be doing a swapsies."
Gusto usually put me out on the floor, serving drinks, collecting bottles, emptying ashtrays and holding lighters in my bra. Angel was good on the stage, and she'd been here the longest, so she gathered the crowds. On the weekends she usually took one of the private rooms and did groups, or personal appointments. But tonight, I was doing 1 to 1s.
I'd done them before, and they weren't my favourite. At Gusto's, 1 to 1s meant the men could actually fuck you, if they wore a condom. There was no way of knowing though, the rooms were dark and Gusto didn't bother with security inside the rooms, so there wasn't much you could do.
Gusto's was one of the seediest clubs this side of town, but it wasn't the cheapest. The clientele were mostly business men, divorcees, cops, polictions. They paid top price so they could get away with doing anything and not get caught. At least these men had jobs to pay for STD checkups.
And it got me off the street. Off the street, and it kept me high.
"You better go now, Cheri, otherwise you'll be passing out on the couch again." Angel was teasing, but cutting a line of glitter filled coke for herself at the same time, so I didn't take it personal.
"Yeah, but will you save some of that for me?" I poked back.
"Only if you're quick."
I had already grabbed the tin that lay at the bottom of my makeup bag, and headed for the bathroom.
Gusto didn't mind us doing drugs. He supplied us all at the cost of our tips, but he didn't tolerate being high on stage.
The first private booth I'd done here, I'd been nervous. Taken too much before I went out, and ended up passing out on the clients lap. I'd awoke to Gusto, beating the shit out of me. He'd made me get clean for two weeks, and didn't give me any time off. Even when I felt so sick I vomited on the floor on a Saturday night, he just took me aside for a beating and I went out again. When you're on the floor, the men can't take your clothes off, so he just picked my wardrobe for the week, and I was fair game.
I hadn't made the same mistake twice though, and Gusto hadn't had a reason to lay his hands on me since. Of course, I hadn't done a private booth since then either.
I pushed those thoughts away, and tied a band just above my elbow.
Lit the spoon.
Within a few, shaking minutes, I was floating.
I felt fine. I felt good. I felt amazing. My body felt amazing. All the dread was gone. The piss soaked bathroom floor below me was gone. I was really flying. My cheeks began to hurt. I was smiling at myself.
Stupid.
It had been a heavy dose. I needed a few more minutes before I could stand up. Go back to the dressing room. I couldn't think beyond that. Had to concentrate on putting everything back in the tin. I dropped the needle. Picked it up. Dropped the spoon.
"Fuuck sake."
My speech was slurring. Not a good sign. I needed to pull myself together. I slapped my cheeks. Put everything into the tin. My lips were numb. My fingers were numb. I giggled. The bathroom door was locked. Did I lock it? I couldn't remember. I didn't care. It unlocked. I ran the tap. Took a drink. Nearly threw it up. I straightened. Looked into the mirror.
My hair had been chopped short when I came here. It was grazing my shoulders now. Gusto has it dyed it red. Bright red. Cherry red.
Cheri. Cherub.
I needed to get to the stage, needed to sober up. I couldn't stomach the water, so I slapped my cheeks again.
They went red. Bright red. Cherry red. I giggled again.
I burst from the bathroom, stumbled my way to towards Angel. Then the dread crept back.
Gusto was there, his arms folded and his back to me. He was staring down Angel. She looked scared.
Shit.
She spotted me. Flapped her hand at me to get gone. He saw.
Fuck.
Gusto had tanned skin that looked baggy on him. His eyes were dark, and about to turn milky. He must've been in his late 50s, but he looked older. He was strong still, and wiry. He wore white t-shirts, waistcoats and bedazzled blazers. Usually he swayed around with a clubbed walking stick, but he didn't need it. He just liked it.
I felt a bit relieved that he didn't have it with him now.
That feeling disappeared when he stepped towards me.
I'm way too high for this right now.
"Cheri, I hope for your own good that you were taking a shit in that bathroom." He barked through the last of his teeth.
I opened my mouth, but he grabbed my arm. Saw the fresh needle mark and the dried blood.
Shit. That's what I ran the tap for.
"You're a fucking junkie, y'know that Cheri? You'll be dead in a few months, and I won't have to waste my booths on your skinny ass. I should put you back on the floor, getting beer poured over your tits again. Like the fucking junkie that you are."
He grabbed my face, was snarling at me now.
"And believe me, I wouldn't waste the leather on the seats for you, if it were up to me. But you've been requested. And yknow what Cheri? I hope he takes you off my hands. I wouldn't give a fuck if he fucked you dead"
He took a fistful of my hair, dragged me back to the dressing table and flung me into a chair like a rag doll. Even if I could fight him, I wouldn't.
"Now take a fucking line of Angel's dust, okay? And get the fuck out there. Do not, fuck this up Cheri, or I swear to god you're back on the streets before sunrise. Got it?"
I nodded.
He didn't respond, just shoved my face towards the table, and left. He wouldn't hit me now, not as I was just about to go out. I glanced at the clock.
Shit.
8 minutes.
"Quick. I need a line."
"Already cut, my little Cherub."
She pushed the mirror towards me, and I took the rolled dollar she handed me.
"Thanks."
"No problem. You good?"
I sniffed, swore, and smiled.
"I'm good."
"Jesus Cheri, y'know the old man might be right. You've got a young heart y'know, not like these hard old bitches. You need to look after yourself."
That's why I loved Angel. She was singularly kind to me.
"This is me looking out for myself, Ang. Thanks, I'm fine."
It was only then I remembered what Gusto had said, about a client requesting me. The dread was back. But I could ignore it now. A few hours, and it would all be over.
"5 MINUTES GIRLS! BE AT YOUR PLACES NOW!" Marty screamed down the megaphone again.
"SHOVE THAT MICROPHONE UP YOUR ASS BEFORE I DO IT FOR YOU!" Angel screeched back.
A few more hours, and it would all be over.