Wild Ways (18 page)

Mollie ducked into the restroom, then exited and headed through the slit in the black curtains. The space had high ceilings with all the pipes in view. Shorter walls sectioned off the area, and Mollie followed the sound of women’s voices. She stepped into a crowded, smoky room with couches, dressing tables, and racks of costumes.

“You’re up next, Shasta,” a woman said to one of the girls sitting at a dressing table, slathering on makeup.

“I’m going, I’m going,” she said breathlessly, adjusting the feather that completed her burlesque costume and dashing out through another curtain.

The moment she cleared it, the song changed, and the female singer started off with “Ssssex.” Way to get to the point. Another woman charged into the room from the stage, flush with bills and perspiration, and ran into the back.

Several of the women were too busy pulling together their costumes or applying makeup to notice Mollie. One, wearing a nurse’s uniform, was bent over a table snorting a line of powder. No Di.

“Who are you?”

Mollie turned toward the harsh voice coming from a woman on her right. “I’m … I guess I need to come up with a stage name, huh?” She flashed a shy smile that wasn’t returned. “I’m Mira,” she said, using the name Julian had called her earlier. At least it wasn’t his first girlfriend’s name. “I’m new. Well, obviously. Damon told me to come back and get acclimated.”

The woman who’d been snorting stood and rubbed her nose. “Great. More competition.”

Mollie gestured to herself. “Me, competition?” She tried hard not to laugh. “Look, I know nothing about this sort of thing. This Kings of Chaos guy said I could make some money, and I’m flat broke. But I’m no competition for you all. What are we competing for, anyway?”

There was a palpable hush among the girls. Damn, had she said too much?

Finesse. Think like Julian
.

The two women who had spoken both went back to getting ready. The snorter positioned herself in front of the curtain that led out to the stage. She must be up next.

A woman dressed in a parochial school uniform with a plaid skirt that barely covered her panties—if she was wearing them—approached, a friendly smile on her face. In that outfit, she appeared to be fifteen, but she was probably twenty. “Don’t mind them. Everybody’s pretty tense right now. Didn’t Damon tell you about the Ball?”

Mollie shook her head, wanting to play this very carefully. “When I tried to borrow a few bucks from him for gas, he told me to come here and I could earn money. He didn’t say anything about a Ball, so I’m probably not a contender. What’s that about?”

“The Kings’ Ball, some big party they put on once a year. They select the best of the girls from here, and from what I’ve heard, they pay crazy cash. I’m pretty new myself and found myself in a similar situation as you, flat broke and nowhere to go. Couple of Kings gave me a ride, and they were nicer than I thought they’d be.”

Why did you take a ride from them if you thought they wouldn’t be nice?
Mollie held back the question, thinking of her sister and those women who had been reported missing. She studied the girl’s face, not yet ravaged by drug use … or just being used. Yes, she thought she might match one of the posters. “I’m Mira,” Mollie said, holding out her hand.

The girl gave her a return handshake. “I’m Katie—now they call me Foxy. So you haven’t met the guys in the club yet, then?”

“Just Damon so far. The thought of meeting a lot of them at once seems scary.”

“I thought the same thing. But there’s something comforting about having a bunch of scary dudes at your back. I’m considered a hang-around. It’s the lowest rung of the biker chicks scale, yet I feel welcome. Well, at least by the men. Some of the women …” She flicked a glance to the woman who’d confronted Mollie. “I think they feel threatened,” she added in a whisper.

Mollie held herself back from asking more questions. She sensed an ally in Katie, and the girl seemed relieved to have someone to talk candidly with. Someone who was new like her. Mollie still had to finesse, especially with the other women in listening range.

Katie nodded toward another woman at the end of the couch who was injecting herself with something. She lowered her voice. “The management offers us all the drugs we want. The dancers say it helps them survive the night or to loosen up. Don’t tell, but I only pretend to snort. A few beers, sure, but it scares me to touch that kind of thing.”

Mollie liked this girl. And yes, she wanted to rescue her. “I’m the same way. I don’t even drink much. I won’t tell if you won’t tell.” She wanted to know more about this Ball, though it didn’t seem that Katie had ever been a part of it. “In case it comes up, how did you …” She tapped her nose.

Katie shifted closer. “The trick is to lean over so you’re blocking the view. Let your hair hang down. Put the straw to your nose but instead of inhaling, blow out. I started coughing to help cover even more.”

“You’re next, Foxy,” the bossy bitch said.

“I’m on it, Crystal.” Katie rushed to the dressing table to check herself. She tightened the ponytail holders on her two blond braids.

Mollie had the insane urge to grab her arm and haul her out of there. Katie reminded her so much of Di, and she was heading down a slippery slope. Maybe she wouldn’t do drugs now, but eventually she would need them to escape when the guys showed their true colors.

Mollie was sure there were nice outlaws. Big Juan, for instance. He’d been
helpful, though part of his motivation was to enlighten her as to the insincerity of his rival. Katie took a deep, steadying breath before stepping out as a song from the singer she was trying to emulate started. That was so wrong, that sweet girl gyrating onstage for a bunch of horny guys.

The snorter stumbled back in on precariously high heels. She wore only a string and a flower tattoo on her stomach. She dropped down onto the couch and started pulling out her bills. How she could do anything with her red talons was beyond Mollie.

Forget the nails; how can she do what she does to her body?

Mollie sent Julian a happy-face text. She was about to check the pictures of the Missing posters for Katie when bossy bitch—er, Crystal—came up behind her. “No taking pictures. Are you a reporter or something?”

Mollie spun around, probably looking like she’d been doing something she shouldn’t. “No, I—”

Crystal patted her down, running her hands down Mollie’s sides, hips, and then between her legs. She came up, her craggy face an inch in front of Mollie’s. “No wire or weapons. I better not find out you’re some kind of troublemaker.” She snatched Mollie’s phone out of her hand and checked it. “Who’s the smiley face for?”

“My boyfriend. I felt like sending him a text. I’m a little nervous.”

She shoved the phone back at her. “Go find a costume.”

“Oh, I’m not performing tonight. Damon said I could observe, learn. I start tomorrow.”

Crystal gave her a derisive sweep of her red eyes. “Yeah, ’cause you sure ain’t ready now.” She looked beyond Mollie. “Tawny! Petra! Get on deck! You’re up for the girl-on-girl number. Lilliana, you’re up after them. Come on girls, let’s hustle!”

A beautiful Asian girl came out of the back, looking stoned in a black feathery skirt and bra to match. Holding her hand was a dazed blonde who giggled and stuck her friend’s finger in her mouth. Her smeared lipstick hinted that the girl-on-girl wasn’t just for show.

Katie blasted back in as another dance number started, and the two women went
out together. She was now wearing only matching plaid panties and looked relieved to be done.

A cry of pain from the back stopped Mollie from asking Katie how it had gone. They both went to the back room from where the two women had emerged, another lounge area littered with liquor bottles and glasses with a few drops of wine left at the bottom.

There was only one woman in the room, a black-haired beauty sprawled on the couch in an inebriated state. She wore leopard panties, but the rest of her wildcat costume lay beside her.

She grimaced, her rubbery fingers groping her ankle. “I fell,” she said, pain in her voice. “Nearly hit the table. But my ankle …” Mascara ran down her cheeks as she grimaced. “I think I broke it.”

“Lilliana, it’s probably just a sprain,” Katie said. “I’ll find you some ice and see if Crystal can push your set back.”

“No!” But Katie was already gone. “I can’t miss my set.”

Mollie knelt down beside her and examined her ankle. “I’m no medical expert, but you’ve done a number on this.” She unbuckled the platform shoe with leopard design and the six-inch heel that had no doubt played a role in her fall. Along with the drugs she was obviously high on. “It’s swollen and already bruising.” Mollie saw the opportunity, her chest swelling with hope again. “Let me take you home.”

Lilliana gripped her wrist. “Fix it,” she hissed. “Fix it so I can dance.”

“Is this dumb Ball worth really messing up your ankle? Because you’ll be on crutches.”

“Stupid girl,” she slurred, her head collapsing back against the couch. “They’ll
send
me to the Ball if I don’t pull my weight. Tomorrow is selection night. All these girls, so stupid …”

“Why?” Mollie prodded, leaning close because Lilliana’s voice was sinking to a whisper.

“They think the best performers will be sent to the Ball.” Her laugh was bitter,
filled with despair. “But I know how it worked last year. It was the unclaimed mamas, the broken ones, and the new girls they’d been picking up. I was so pissed about being left out.” Her laugh was harsh. “But I never saw those girls again, any of them.”

Dread gripped Mollie’s chest. “What happened to them?”

“I don’t know. The guys told us they made so much money that they went on to a better life. But I had a bad feeling about it. And now … now it’s my turn. If I don’t show up out there, Damon will consider me broken, used up. They’ll take anyone. I overheard Damon say they were short on girls this year.” She gripped Mollie’s arm, and a spark of hope lit her face. “You look like me, got the same build.” She cupped her own breasts. “Even the same size boobies. You could be me.” She clutched Mollie’s arm, making her realize this was the same desperate dancer she’d seen earlier. “Save me.”

Mollie had to save this woman. But the price, how could she do it? “Only if you talk with me afterward, tell me everything you know about this Ball.” And Di.

Lilliana nodded. “I will.”

Katie rushed back in with a baggie of ice cubes. “Crystal says you’d better be ready in two numbers. Or you know what will happen, and she’s not protecting your flabby ass.” She raised her hands. “Her words, not mine.”

Fear seized Lilliana’s face, sealing Mollie’s fate. Her heart pounded in her ears as she heard herself say, “I’ll dance in your place.”

“Bless you, honey. You ever dance before?” When Mollie shook her head, Lilliana said, “I’ll give you a quick lesson. And Foxy will show you.” Lilliana shifted on the couch, then winced when she moved her ankle. “First, you have to loosen up. I can give you a hit of something—”

“No,” Mollie said. “I’ll manage without, thank you.”

Katie asked, “When was the last time you had sex? Good sex?”

“Uh … a few hours ago.”

“Whoa. Lucky you. So think about having his hands on you, that lovely sensation when you’re about to come. That’s what one of the girls told me. You can’t close your eyes—you’re supposed to meet the eyes of all the men out there, especially the ones
around the stage. But sink into the fantasy.”

“You mean, be easy out there. Be free,” Mollie said.

Katie nodded. “Exactly.”

The song changed, and Mollie’s chest tightened. One more song and she was on. Was she crazy?

“Move your hips and your ass,” Lilliana said. “Show her how to touch herself, Katie.”

“What?”

“Like this,” Katie said, shimmying down so that her butt was inches above the floor, her hands gliding over her spread thighs, then between them. She shimmied up, drawing her hands up on either side of her pelvis, her ribs, to brush over her breasts. “Lilliana does have a rep for, uh …”

“Getting down and dirty with myself,” Lilliana finished. “They give you tons of tips.” She slid her finger along the edge of her panties, then cupped herself. “Can you manage that without blushing, princess?”

Mollie felt the heat at her cheeks. “No promises.”
Can you remember that I’m saving your ass here and be a little more understanding?

Katie took her arm and led her to a table. “Let’s get you dressed.” She started opening drawers. “Get naked while I look. Lilliana, where’s your wig?”

“Third drawer down.” Lilliana turned to Mollie. “Honey, if you’re going to be a dancer, you can’t be shy about stripping in front of us.”

Mollie’s frozen expression had nothing to do with that. In less than three minutes she was going to get naked, or nearly so, in front of a bunch of men. And Julian. Who, she realized, hadn’t actually seen her naked.
This is for Di. For Lilliana
. And because Mollie was going to find out more about this Ball. The woman owed her that much. Mollie stripped out of her clothes as Katie pulled out a long, black wig and a box of pins and clips.

“I have some new panties in the second drawer,” Lilliana said. “To go with this.” She tossed the leopard outfit closer to Mollie. “Don’t get naked too early in the song.
Tease, tease, tease.”

Katie extracted a pair, tore off the tag with her teeth, and handed them to Mollie, who dutifully stepped out of hers and set them with her clothing.

“Speaking of naked …” Katie surveyed Mollie’s pelvis. “You need to shave. You’re trimmed, but the patrons like us nearly bare.”

“But the girls haven’t taken off their panties,” Mollie protested.

“They pull them down and bend way over,” Katie said.

“Shaver’s in the top drawer,” Lilliana said.

Katie turned, armed with an electric shaver.

“I’ll do it,” Mollie said, snatching it. She trimmed as close as she dared. She hadn’t been this hair-free since she was eleven. She wrestled into the outfit with Katie’s help, since it was nothing more than a bunch of strings. Katie helped pin the wig in place. When she looked in the mirror, she hardly recognized herself.