"I'm taking it up with you," Sheila persisted. "You think you're better than me, than us, just ‘cause you use to have a badge. You aren't though, and we all know why Randy gives you special treatment. You think we don't, but we do."
"Hey, come on, Sheila, drop it," Rebecca said, stepping forward.
Sheila turned on the auburn-haired stage manager like a piranha on prey. "Back off, this ain't your business."
Bunny shook her head, acknowledged the absurdity of her situation, and turned to face Sheila. The woman wanted to have an argument while they were half-naked backstage then so be it.
"So, tell me, Sheila, what is it you all know? I'd love to hear it," Bunny said quietly.
Sheila’s expression turned smug then as she stepped closer, looking for all the world as if she really could take Bunny down if she needed to. She even gave the other girls a telling look, the kind that says pay attention; you'll want to remember where you were when you heard this.
"You've been giving Randy some special favors. The kind the rest of us haven't sunken so low as to give out so easy," she said in a sharp, measured tone meant to cut deep.
Bunny laughed at her. Not a small snort, or even a chuckle, but a robust belly laugh. The startled expression on Sheila's face only made her laugh harder, until she had to hang on to the locker door just to not fall down.
"That's it? That's your big thing? Seriously?" she finally managed to wheeze out, tears in her eyes.
Sheila knew she'd lost ground, but chose to stand it anyway. "We all know."
"Then you don't know shit, girl," Bunny told her with a smile, one that faded quickly as she moved to stand almost nose to nose with Sheila. "Now why don't you piss off and do your job."
Sheila held her ground for a few more seconds before backing off. She gave Bunny a dark look as she walked away, silence ruling the dressing room as the others watched. It was broken only by the sound of coughing, drawing all eyes to the newest dancer, Amy.
"Sorry," she muttered, covering her mouth as she coughed some more.
Sheila took advantage of the opportunity to put distance between herself and Bunny as some of the girls gathered around Amy to see how she was doing. Rebecca shook her head and joined Bunny, watching Sheila retreat.
"Sorry about that, Buns. I had no idea she was going to do that."
Bunny shrugged. "Forget about it. She's got a wedge up her ass and always has."
Rebecca snickered. "Very true. Anyway, congrats on center stage. You've earned it."
"Thanks, I think," Bunny told her with a wry grin.
Rebecca gave her a soft smile. "I know. I mean, I get it. Still, I meant it sincerely."
"I know, and I appreciate it." Bunny nodded.
"I'm gonna go check on Amy. She didn't look good when she came in, and that cough is wicked," Rebecca said after a minute.
Bunny frowned a bit. "Rosie and Sonya called off with the flu. Must be going around. Maybe you should just send her home."
"I wish, but we're going to be short as it is. Unless she's seriously bad off, we're gonna need her," she answered with a shrug.
Bunny sighed and nodded as she tugged off her bra. "It's gonna be one of those nights, huh?"
"Looks like," Rebecca agreed. "Knock ‘em dead, Buns."
"Yeah," she said as Rebecca left her alone. "Knock ‘em dead."
Once upon a time, Bunny hadn't been ashamed of her name. She hadn't been ashamed of her looks. She hadn't been ashamed of anything. It seemed like a long time ago now, a distant memory hazed over by the passage of time, making it seem like everything then had happened under a golden hue.
It was bullshit of course, and she knew it. Applying make-up to cover the old bullet scar on her thigh was a reminder of that. It was also enough to bring back memories of how she'd gotten not only the scar, but her first medal.
It’d been her first day on patrol. Straight out of the Academy, a rookie riding shotgun with a more experienced officer. They’d answered a call on a domestic disturbance, but when they had arrived and banged on the door, she'd watched as her brand new partner got his brains blown out.
She remembered diving away from the door, the searing pain in her leg, and the sound of screaming. The feel and weight of her sidearm as she pulled it, the sight of the suspect coming out the door and shooting her dead partner again. There was no golden haze over her memory of pulling herself up, or struggling with the suspect for his gun, not even of finally cuffing him.
Her first day on the job had ended with a bullet in her leg, a man's blood on her face, and an arrest. They had called it going above and beyond. They had called it bravery in the face of death. She had called it the worst day of her life.
Even now, as she took the stage in a revealing nurse’s costume to the strains of AC/DC's “Shook Me All Night Long” it was the worst day of her life, something she told herself, forced herself to remember. This wasn’t worse than that, not even close.
Not even when she took off the barely-there dress.
The lights were bright, the music was loud, and the crowd was rude. Bunny forced herself to ignore it, to smile, to toss around sultry looks as she bared herself to them, dropping the silky bra on the head of a man she’d seen many times before.
Ten feet to her right, Sheila was performing her routine, swinging on a pole and giving men her best
