𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋! | harry styles

𝐈𝐈

RAIN drips from the eaves of my apartment building, and the sidewalk is sleek and wet under the night sky. The air feels heavy with rain, and I can hear thunder rumbling in the distance. As a drop of rain hits the back of my neck and rolls under the collar of my sweater I curse myself for not bringing an umbrella.

Luckily, a cab pulls in just as a light mist begins to fall.

I hop into the back seat of the cab, glaring sullenly at the mass of red, rusting metal that sits in the corner of the parking lot. My truck only just made the cross-country trek from Greenwood, and has since been sitting in the lot waiting to be fixed. Unfortunately, I have neither the time nor the money to get it repaired.

By the time I arrive at work, the parking lot is full of expensive looking cars, and Nick's bright yellow Porsche sits under a streetlight, its paint gleaming. The building's neon pink sign glows bright, illuminating the dark night sky, and there's already a line at the door. I attempt to slip quietly in the side entrance, closing it gently behind me, but even though I do my best to tip-toe past Nick's office, he still sees me.

"You're late," he calls from behind his desk. His back is to me, his head buried in the safe as video monitors around him flicker with feeds from around the club.

"Sorry." I hustle past the door, my wet shoes squeaking on the cement floor of the hallway.

The bass-heavy music thumps through the walls as I make my way down the hallway and past the bathrooms, toward the dressing room. Warm yellow light and the familiar smell of coconut body lotion greet me as I slip in through the door. As I stop to check the floor rotation, I spot Leah across the room, her outfit on and her phone pressed to her ear. She waves and smiles, blowing me a kiss. Katie is there too, at her dressing table, perfecting her cherry-red lipstick.

She smiles at me in the mirror. "Hey, girl."

I touch my hand to her shoulder as I pass. "Hey, sweetie."

"How are you?" she calls, her voice following me into the locker room.

I stuff my bag into my locker and pull out a couple of outfits before I strip out of my jeans and hoodie.

"I'm good," I reply, the lie rolling off of my tongue so easily I barely notice it.

I tuck my plain clothes away and slide a black thong up my legs as Katie talks to me from the dressing room. I half listen, trying instead to focus on mentally preparing myself for a night's work. As I do, I can feel the little pieces of Scarlet Reynolds being tucked safely away and someone new taking her place.

Beneath the coloured lights of Blush, the most exclusive men's club in the city, I begin to shed my skin.

Three nights a week I strip away the person I am-brown hair and faded jeans, worn out sneakers and a sports bra-and piece by piece I turn myself into someone new. Rose is confident and seductive, she's long-legged and lean, with skin that smells like temptation and lips that look like seduction.

She's everything I'm not, but everything that I need to be.

This place is the real deal. We don't get paid to strut around a pole looking bored; we get paid to dance our asses off and keep the clientele happy. The girls are hand-picked by the club manager, and we're the best at what we do. With a premium cover charge Blush rides the line between fantasy and luxury, and if you're willing to pay for it, who says you can't have both?

I slide my feet into a pair of heels that make my legs look long, and throw the locker door shut, hiding Scarlet away for a few hours. Back in the dressing room, I pin my bangs up and cover my dark hair with blonde waves that skim the tops of my breasts. I dust my skin with sweet-smelling powder and paint my lips a pretty pink to match my name.