The words slurred with sarcasm.
Baby Jade knew who it was before she turned around. Jewella leaned against the fingerprint smudged bathroom door. The tiny vial in her hand and the way she rubbed her nose explained the tone. Her normal brown eyes were nothing but pupils, and heavy makeup was smeared across her bony cheeks. The short silk robe she wore fell off one pointy shoulder.
It was no secret that Jewella hated Baby Jade. She had made that clear from day one.
“You might wanna check a mirror. I think you need a little touch-up.” Baby Jade collected her street clothes from the bottom drawer. She had finished her last set for the day and wanted to be long gone before Slade showed back up.
“You’re such a smart-ass.” Jewella stumbled backward trying to cross her legs. “Does Mickey know you’re planning on ducking out?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I finished my shift. Unlike some people, I actually stay coherent long enough to do my job. Now I’m leaving. That’s how the world works. You should try it sometime,” Baby Jade snapped as she threw on a pair of shorts and an old AC/DC t-shirt.
“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Jewella snickered, too stoned to notice how loud she was talking.
Baby circled in time to see her walking up the stairwell. “Don’t do it, Jewella. I mean it,” she hollered, only to get a middle finger in response.
“Dammit!” Baby Jade shoved the rest of her stuff in a bag as fast as she could hoping to dodge the inevitable.
“I’m sorry, Baby. I didn’t know Jewella was in the bathroom. I thought she was sleeping it off in Mickey’s office.” Coral stood in the corner with the broom.
Baby Jade forgot she was in the room. Sometimes it was as if she blended right into the walls.
“It’s ok. I know it’s not your fault. I have to get outta here before …”
She stopped midsentence when she heard the familiar sound of boots stomping down the stairs.
“Baby, where the hell do you think you’re going?” Mickey challenged.
“I did my five sets for the day. I was supposed to be off already.” She snatched up her bag and headed toward the stairwell. Mickey moved to block the entrance, filling the doorway with his portly frame.
“I don’t give a shit if you did ten sets. You know you’re supposed to check with me before leaving.”
“And I would have let you know when I came back up, but that skank girlfriend of yours thought she’d rat me out first.”
Mickey’s back went rigid and he bowed up at Baby Jade’s insult. “Don’t talk about Jewella like that.”
Pop
Baby jumped and turned to see where the sound came from. She saw the broom on the floor as the bathroom door slammed shut and the lock clicked into place.
“Look what you did! You scared that little wimp Coral. She still has two sets left.”
“Whatever. Get outta my way, Mickey. I’m leaving.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “No. You’re not.”
“Yes, I am. What are you going to do? Tie me up and keep me locked up here in the basement?”
Baby Jade’s stomach somersaulted at the sight of Mickey’s lips twisting into a sly grin.
“Don’t tempt me, precious. You might find you enjoy it.”
The conversation was getting her nowhere. Baby Jade inhaled and tried to refocus, swallowing back the bitter bile collecting in her throat. “Mickey, what do you want? I’ve done my sets. I’ll be in tomorrow night.”
“Jewella’s sick. You’ll have to cover for her.”
Baby Jade tried to hide her giggling. “Sick? You mean she’s high as a fucking kite and can barely stand up, much less dance.”
“I told you not to talk about her like that. She’s gonna take a nap in my office. Now get your shit together, you’re on after Barbie.”
“Can’t you have one of the other girls do it?”
“I said you’re going to go do it, unless you’d rather I pull my pants down now and show you who gets on their knees quicker? Get your ass upstairs. You’re on in ten.”
He turned and marched back up the stairs. It was his way of letting her know he was in charge. He had said more than once how being defiant and always bucking the system was going to get her into trouble one day. He hated that she wasn’t a “team player,” as he called it.
Baby Jade slumped into the chair. She had forgotten that Coral was in the bathroom until the door opened.
“Baby? Do you want me to take the extra set?”
“No, hon. I’d better do it myself. If not, Mickey and Jewella will find another way to make my life hell. Thanks though.” Baby Jade pulled out a copy of DeLaine Roberts Two Sides of a Heartbeat to read while she waited. Books had become her closest friend. When she was a child, books and music were her only comfort. They helped her block out the rest of the world. Another means of survival.
“Shit, it’s dead out there.” Barbie stumbled down the steps, pulling Baby Jade out of her book and back to reality. She was notorious for having a few shots before her set. “I hear you’re covering for Jewella. Good luck with that. It’s tough dancing to an empty room.”
Barbie pretended to be tough but was harmless. Still, Baby Jade didn’t like to indulge in small talk. She didn’t trust her as far as she could throw her, and nothing she said to the girl was safe since she was Jewella’s little protégé. The pathetic way she panted around after Jewella, mimicking her every move, disgusted Baby.
“I guess she’s sick again.”
Coral rolled her eyes and laughed. “Funny, I had the same sickness last night. It’s probably Mickey’s way of sticking it to you. Ya know, since you won’t let him actually stick it to you.”
“I’m not touching that one,” Barbie chimed in.
“It’s not a big deal. I hoped to get outta here on time today, but I guess there’s always tomorrow.” Baby Jade didn’t say how she felt, never letting her guard down. There was no point in giving people extra ammunition.
“Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that sugar.” Barbie taunted her before sitting down at her table and lighting a cigarette.
Baby Jade eyed the woman. They had spent a lot of time around each other over the last two years. Barbie was nineteen years old and as far as Baby Jade knew, had only worked at Bottoms Up, where Jewella quickly took her under her wing. Her bleached hair was teased and brittle beyond repair. She liked being known as the head platinum, every club had one. Her skin looked like leather that had been left out in the sun for years and was almost as dark as Baby Jade’s smooth, natural bronze skin. She practically lived in the tanning salon down the street. Acne scars covered her skin, which only led to her caking on layers of makeup trying to hide them. It reminded Baby of spackling a wall. To this day, she had never seen her wash off the mess; she only piled more on top. Fake lashes weighed down her once bright blue eyes. Her average height did nothing for her thin frame, a lot thinner than when she started two years ago. The horrible boob job she received as a present from her current sugar daddy made her look skinnier. Size DDs on a twenty-two inch waist was not the picture of a healthy self-esteem.
Baby may not like her, but it was easy to feel sorry for the girl. Hell, it was easy for her to feel sorry for pretty much everyone stuck in this nightmare.
“Baaaaaby, you’re up!” Jewella sang from the top of the stairs.
Everyone but Jewella. She would never feel sorry for that hateful bitch.
Baby Jade stood behind the heavy drapes for the sixth time that day. Her nerves were shot and her stomach was in knots. This was the point where she had to give in and let the music take over or she would be a hot mess and never make it through the next few minutes. The spotlights made it difficult to check the chairs lined up at the stage, otherwise known as pervert row. From what she could make out, they were all empty. As tough as it was to dance to an empty room, it was worse to dance for one person, Mickey. Other clubs didn’t make the girls dance when there weren’t any customers. It was pointless, but not here. Mickey was always up for a free show. His excuse was that he was paying them to shake their asses, not sit on them.