Break Apart My Heart

“Baby doll, do you have work tonight?” Bella questioned.
I nodded. “Unfortunately.”
She frowned. “I wish you would just quit already. I mean, I don’t care you dance, but that place is just …”
“Seedy.” Andy finished, scrunching his nose.
“Exactly.” Bella added.
“I know.” I sighed. “But a normal job wouldn’t pay me as much, and I can’t get into a nicer place to dance until I’m actually 18.”
“You’ll be 18 in a few days; why can’t you just quit now?” Andy asked.
“Because the more money I save the better.” I stated. “A few more days of working there will get me at least a grand.”
“Fine.” Andy stuck his hands up in defeat.
“Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.” Bella muttered, crossing her arms.
“Can we stop talking about this and smoke?” I asked, holding up the blunt.
“Okay.” Andy smiled, stealing it from my hands.
“Hey!” I giggled.

We sat in Andy’s place for hours, smoking and fucking around like we usually do. I kept getting this odd feeling, but I shrugged it off as a side effect of some good weed.

“So doll face, what are we doing for you’re birthday?” Bella asked.
I shrugged. “Probably getting shit faced and crashing here.”
“I’ll make a cake!” She cheered.
Andy looked at her skeptically. “Bells, you do remember last time you tried baking, right?”
I giggled.
“That was not entirely my fault!”
“Yea, it was the drugs fault.” I defended sarcastically.
“It was.” She pouted.

Last year, Bella tried baking pot brownies for Andy’s birthday. She kept a 30 piece for herself and smoked while the brownies were baking. Unfortunately, she smoked herself into a coma-like state and woke up to her kitchen nearly on fire.

“Sure it was.” Andy patronized.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~

Another day, another dollar; that’s what they say, right?

That’s the only thing that keeps me from quitting this job; that and, I’m a poor girl with some expensive habits.

My mother has no idea about my career choice. She knows I work at the Banger Club, but she thinks I’m a waitress. I wasn’t totally lying; I do work the floor some nights. Thankfully, she refuses to ever set foot in a strip club, so my secrets safe; for now. My manager, Ryan, pays all of us off the books so there was no need for him to acquire my Social Security number. Good thing, considering I’m a minor. When I turned 17 I flashed him my tits and a fake ID; he hired me on the spot, no questions asked.

I get paid a good amount, considering I’m not a full blown stripper. I’m an exotic dancer, meaning I get paid to dance around the stage in lingerie. I have nothing against the strippers I work with, but we get tipped almost the same amount, so I figured I’d save myself a little dignity. We all get a percentage of the admission fees, and we keep the tips we make. In all actuality it wouldn’t be such a bad job, if I worked in a nicer establishment.

Tonight is a half and half night. I go on stage at 9, and when I finish, I’ll work the floor for a couple hours. After a quick shower, I straightened my hair, which I finally learned to do on my own, and got dressed. I threw on an old ACDC shirt, some ripped up jeans and my army jacket before throwing all the things I’d need for tonight into my duffel bag. Unfortunately, I don’t have a car, so I’m stuck taking buses and cabs around. Tonight, the cab came pretty quickly and I told the man my destination; like he didn’t already know.

“How’s business been?” He asked, eyeing me in the mirror.
“Fine.” I smiled politely.
“That’s good.” He nodded. “Maybe I’ll come in and see you sometime?”
“I’m actually quitting tonight, sorry.” I lied. Well, I guess it’s time to find a new cab company.
“Aw, that’s a shame.”
“Sorry.” I shrugged.

He let me out on the corner after paying him and I started to walk. It was only 4 buildings down, but it always felt like it took forever. It was like walking to the gates of hell, everything in your vision becoming blurry and unfocused, and the stretch that separates you from those doors seems like miles. As I opened the large, wooden double doors, I was pounded with the sound of loud music and the smell of cheap vodka and perfume. God, I hope I don’t smell like this place.

“Nikki, you’re late.” My manager, Joe, stated.
“Sorry Joe, cab took longer to get here today.” I shrugged.
“You’re on in 15; you’ll be doing your own hair.” With that he walked away, probably to get another shot and hit on his employees. Sick fuck.

I sighed, running a hand through my freshly straightened hair and walked towards the back room. The back room is every man’s fantasy; girls running about, some half naked, some fully naked. Looking around at bouncing breasts made me wonder why Bella never became a stripper; she loves being naked.

“Nikki help!” Angel screeched, ducking behind me.
“Wha-”
“Angel you bitch, give me my hair back!” Destiny shouted.

The two girls began running around me in a circle, making me feel dizzy just from watching them.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked, stopping Destiny.
“She stole my hair extensions!” She shouted.
“Prove it!” Angel stuck her tongue out and made a mad dash towards the bathrooms.
“Oh, I’ll get that bitch.” Destiny smirked, chasing after her.

I rolled my eyes and took a seat at my personal makeup table. I did my routine makeup, black eyeliner on both lids, stretching the corners out a bit and twisting the pencil to give an added dramatic effect. I, slowly, attached my false eyelashes. They were extra long, with teal coloring running through some of the black to match my outfit. I finished, happy with the product, and got dressed.

My outfit consisted of a teal bra, with a fishnet top to go over it. I wore a black mini skirt that didn’t cover my ass at all, with matching teal underwear and a pair of 4 inch pumps. I couldn’t be bothered to do much with my hair, so I decided to just put it up in a sexy, bed head, messy bun.

“Nikki, you’re on!” Joe called.
“Okay!” I yelled.

I fastened up my heels and glanced at myself once more in the large vanity mirror. Sighing, I made my way behind the curtain and waited for my song to come on. Sure enough, the intro began to Motley Crue’s “Wild Side”.

We got to choose our own songs, and I chose Wild Side not only because I’m a Motley Crue fan, but because the title rings true. Once I step onto that stage, my former self is pushed back into the black abyss of my mind, and my alter ego steps out; My “Wild Side”.

I strutted up the stage, confidence oozing from my pores. A lot of the girls here had moves, but I was one of the few who could contort my body around the long silver cylinder. Carefully, I jumped to the pole, wrapping my legs around it securely and bent my upper body back words to look into the audience. I usually don’t look at them, but something inside made me. I didn’t like what I saw.

Among the horny old business men and twitching druggies, I saw 3 men who were probably just a little older than me. I couldn’t place it, but one of them looked so familiar. I almost lost my footing staring at the man, but caught myself quickly. He’s probably no one.

I hope.