“End of the month reconciling.”
“Ah,” they all hum.
With two swift knocks on the door to Paul’s office I alert the owner that I’m here. It’s our code so he shouts, “Come in, Nat!”
Hiding my disdain for the nickname they all gave me despite my insisting it sounds like I’m a bug, I enter his dirty shack and avoid the mess.
He’s not filthy—the place doesn’t stink.
But the stacks of crap he refuses to throw away take up so much space that I have to twist and turn my body to get to his desk. The man is a hoarder in the making, and his toupee is god-awful.
“Here’s your computer.” All the important information for his company is in there and he trusts me with it. I’m kinda proud of that.
“How’d I do?” He asks as he thumbs through headshots of dancer-hopefuls.
“Another gain. You really should take my advice and start investing in a 401 K for yourself.”
His eyes flick to me long enough to say, “It’s a rip-off,” then drop back to the pretty girls in his hands. “I like my money now, not in my future. What if I never have one?”
“What if you do?”
He grumbles, “I’ll think about that later.”
“You mean when you need the money?” I head for the door and pause with my hand on the cool knob. “Paul, why are you looking at those? Why actual printed copies?”
“I’m tired of looking at computers, Nat. My eyes are sore.”
“So you’re hiring more dancers? I thought the girls were griping about not having enough hours as it is.”
He mutters, “They say that but then they snort coke all night long. One of these days I’m gonna walk in and three will be dead on the floor, you watch.”
“Nice image, thanks,” I sigh, as I go to leave.
“Why is Max Cocker calling me up and asking about you?” He meets and holds my eyes for the first time. “This isn’t the Cockers, is it? I don’t recognize his name.”
“What did he say? Wait, he called you? When? Did he call for you, or just call about me or…”
Paul snaps, “Stop rambling, you’re hurting my ears.” Grasping an 8x10 photo with all ten digits he stares at me over his reading glasses, chin dipped. “He said you applied for a job and he wanted a reference. Are you leaving me, Nat? Because I wouldn’t like that if you did. Especially for a Cocker.”
I stammer, “It’s not a real job, Paul. It’s a film some guy is working on. I said I’d help with the books on it. But it’s not full time or anything. Directors only do a film like every four years, right? We all know that.”
“Tell him you won’t take it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t like back-stabbers.” He stares at me, his voice taking on a strange quality I haven’t heard before. “You’re part of the family, Nat. And family never leaves.”
“Paul…”
“If I hear you’re working with him on this movie,” He said that like it’s foul to even voice the word. “Let’s just say I won’t be happy. And my silent investors won’t be happy. And you won’t like what happens then.” Like he didn’t just threaten me with bodily harm, he returns to the photos, muttering, “This one’s got no tits. Could be a novelty act.”
Shaken, I turn the doorknob and walk back into the dressing room.
Just like he’d said, Candy Land and Juniper Rising are bent over a compact, snorting fine lines of white powder. They don’t try to hide it. Why should they, when nobody here has any plans to stop them?
Paul’s mantra: As long as they can put bodies in the seats they can do what they want. They’re not children.
But they were once.
And when I look at them that’s what I see.
Candy Land sees me blinking at them, head spinning from his threat. She holds the mirror out, “Need a bump, Nat?”
“I don’t do drugs, but thank you.”
Juniper sneers, “Look at Miss High and Mighty!”
Narrowing my eyes I ask, “I’m snobby because I don’t want to fuck up my life?”
She snaps, “My life is worlds better than yours is, Miss I’ve Got A Stick Up My Ass!”
“Wait, which is it? Because you just called me another stupid name, so I’m confused.”
She gets in my face and I straighten up to meet her challenge. Candy Land tries to come between us but we both shove her out of the way. Pussy Catz walks out of the small bathroom and runs up on six-inch stilettos and nothing else. “Whoa whoa whoa! What the fuck is with you two?”
“Nat just told me my life is shit!”
“That’s not what I said!”
“That’s what I heard!”
“Because cocaine turns everyone into an asshole, that’s why you heard that!”
She pushes me, and I shove back. Pussy Catz wedges herself between us, sweet perfume wafting into angry nostrils on both sides. “Enough! Juniper, you wanna make some money tonight? You wanna get all bruised up before a show? Lose those eyelashes you just spent ten years pasting on? Calm yourself!”
I back off as Juniper Rising steps away, too, snarling at me, “You think you’re so special because you’re good with numbers. I dare you to get on that stage for a night and not lose your damn mind crying!” Throwing her arm out, she points at Paul’s office. “You fuck him in there?”
There are daggers on my tongue. “How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not fucking him! You saw me walk in! That would have to be the quickest lay in my life!”
“So you blew him then!”
“Yeah, that’s right, that’s what I did. You know what, I have to get out of here. Why do I even bother arguing with you?”
“Waste your time on me, you mean? You snobby ass bitch!” She comes at me and I duck, which makes her fly into a clothes rack as Pussy Catz fails to catch her in time.
One of the bodyguards appears, “You guys are ruining the show!”
“I’m gone!” Quick strides take
