Friday Nights Chapter One

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My mother used to preach to me that a pretty girl was one who wore red religiously, that it was the most pleasing color for our curves. She would be ashamed if she could see me now. She would say "Veronica, you're a lady, I expect you to act like it". And like so many times before, I would refuse. I grew up in Florence, Kentucky. A religious but quiet town where everyone knew everyone, and everyone attended church. We were a pack of conservatives, taught from young that being prude when interacting with a man was the right thing to do, that if we showed our shoulders or danced a certain way, God would condemn us to the coldest hell of our dreams. Now, I am twenty-seven, out of college, living in hell. I smeared a rose red lipstick across my face, clicking my heels to the sound of jazz music coming from the stage. 1925, the age of jazz, the age of clubs and the blossoming of flappers. That was me. That is why I am in hell, it is my living... well.. currently. 

"You look lovely darling". Polly came from behind me and placed her hands on my bare shoulders, a red sequined dress hanging below. Polly was my best friend. She was in the same boat as I was, except she was happily married. I am married too, but not happily. I work for my husband here. He runs this place, controls the people. His favorite thing to do is to get the men so drunk that they can't leave, you pay the longer you stay, that's the catch. Ten dollars for an hour, twenty for every additional hour. He has made his fair share of dough, except none goes to me, or our bills. I never know where our money goes, that's why we fight, but I can't leave him. I can't walk away from the man I love. I stood up and pulled my fishnet stockings down, fixing the bottom to ease the unevenness. I placed a pair of strappy black heels on my feet, wincing at the pain from my blisters. Their sting bounced through my body and legs, making my heels scream in pain, but I ignored it. There are seven of us that perform nightly at the club, except Claire, she does Wednesdays only. Other than that our group is called the Bella Dancers, because this is the Bella Racetrack and Gentleman's club. We walked out on stage, and were greeted by a dining room full of men and whiskey. A dangerous combination. Whoops and hollers echoed across the crowd, one man wolf whistled. I looked to see if I could spot David, but he was nowhere in sight. I rolled my eyes as we started our routine and the familiar sound of upbeat jazz suffocated the silence. I knew this by heart. Point up, point down, walk in a circle. I blew a kiss at a gentleman sitting close to the stage. He licked his lips. Disgusting. I walked across the stage and shook the red fringe on my dress. What would my mother say? Point out, point out, kick and spin. I was so used to the movements, I forgot that we had changed one part of the routine. I turned right into Polly and fell straight down to the floor. I heard an exchange of laughs and quickly stood back up, getting back into the routine. MY face was hot, and my cheeks felt like they could match my dress. As if I would have managed to turn into the wife of Satan in one fell swoop.

"Someone bang you hard last night Ronnie?" I heard a man yell, but I couldn't place his voice. I scoffed at the crowd before finishing the dance. I may be a flapper, but I certainly am no whore. My virginity is the one thing I still have left, god knows my dignity is all but vanished. I stumbled off stage when the routine was finished and practically fell into Polly once again. 

"Oh Veronica, sit down, let's get those horrid things off of you". I sloped down the edge of the backstage door and placed my legs outward towards her. She undid the straps and tugged my heels off of my feet. I closed my eyes and breathed in the smoke of lingering cigars and giggles from the other dancers. It tasted sour, like the un-squeezed, unclenched lemons in a watered down glass of wine. The muscles in my toes twitched and squirmed when the heels came off.

"Polly, you're a dear for helping, I don't know what I would do without you". I glanced at my feet, I could feel the sores opening up inside my stockings, David will be ashamed. I stood up and carried my heels back to the dressing room, letting them swing at my side. I entered the room to see the rest of the Bella Dancers standing in a circle around David, my boss and husband. 

"So kind of you to join us, Ronnie". he said. I smiled and went to stand by his side. He placed his hand around my shoulder and pulled me in close, a cigar hung from his front teeth, dripping burning pieces of ash onto my shoulder. It stung, but I didn't dare move out of fear of upsetting my husband. A lady has discipline. A lady has poise. A lady lives to please her man. "As many of you know the Bella Dancers are the highlight of the Bella Racetrack and Gentleman's Club". The girls smiled and nodded in agreement with his statement. "The routine is good, but I have decided it is time to make bigger investments in the company. I want more. That is why I have hired an instructor to aide you in your dancing. Your moves are good, but they're the same. I want them to be great. Tomorrow at five o'clock we will be holding open auditions for a new team of Bella Dancers, fresh faces. You will audition, and your history does not guarantee a single one of you a spot on the line. Got it?" He stated. The group looked frightened. Polly especially, she turned as pale white as a holy spirit. Of course I had no reason to be concerned, my husband would never dare to fire me... right? 

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⏰ Last updated: Jun 26, 2017 ⏰

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