Page 12 of Thirst

I tried to talk myself into being a Viper Girl, but I just couldn't go through with it, and after a bad night of tips, I feel like all hope is lost. I'm going to lose my apartment before the year is up, and it doesn't seem like there's anything I can do about it. So I guess this is it. Every day is a ticking clock. I see the countdown everywhere I go, no matter what I'm doing. In my mind, I see my bank account draining more and more with every month, and the clock getting closer to zero. All because of a rent increase. All because of greed.

“Hey, you okay?” Majesty asks as she comes into the locker room. She has sweat on her brow from just finishing her pole dance on the main stage. She breathes hard as she changes out of her black and red outfit and switches into an all-green set.

“I'm good,” I reply, which has become my go-to answer. It’s what everyone says when they're struggling but don't want anyone else to know their business.

Majesty reapplies deodorant and sits down in front of her vanity. I watch her play with her short hair, flicking it and adjusting it to her liking before turning to face me with her forehead scrunched.

“You sure? I keep catching you in deep thought,” she says. “You're not contemplating offing yourself or anything like that, are you?”

I giggle nervously. “Of course not. Just going through it and unsure when I won't be.”

She nods, a look of understanding sweeping across her face. “I'm sorry you're going through that. These landlords need their asses whooped for jacking up rent prices on people, especially when they know the minimum wage is still garbage and bosses aren’t exactly handing out raises. They’re trying to price people out of their homes. It should be a crime.”

“You ain't never lied,” I reply. “I'm about to have to beg Von for more hours or something.”

“Damn. You’re already here just about every night.”

“I know. But I gotta figure something out. Otherwise, it’s gonna be job applications and asking my momma for money when she barely has any herself. Something’s gotta give soon.”

Majesty inhales to reply, but she's cut off by a deep voice.

“You know why you ain't got no money?” Von says. Both of us spin around and find him staring at us from Shay’s locker just a few feet away, an oversized orange button-up hanging from his frame. “Because you're always in here talkin’ instead of workin’ the floor. You make most of your money from lap dances, which means you gotta walk the floor and make people wanna take you to the VIP booths. But nah, you’re in here cryin’ about being broke. This is gettin’ old, Aaliyah. You don't hear Shonda’s music finishin’ up right now? You're next on the main stage and you aren’t even ready. Talkin’ about some job applications. I'm this close to firin’ your ass, so you're about to have all the time you need to fill out job applications. Get your broke ass up and get to the stage, or stop wastin’ my time and just quit right now. Goddamn.”

Instead of walking away like he normally does, Von stays put and just stares at me, waiting for me to get up. I glance at Majesty, who can only press her lips into a thin line as I stand and walk away. Von stares me down until the moment I can't see him anymore, and the second he's out of my line of sight, Aaliyah’s “We Need a Resolution” booms through the speakers.

“Alright, alright,” the DJ says into the mic. “Everybody go in your pockets and come to the stage, because it’s time for the one and only … Aaliyah!”

The men surrounding the stage begin to cheer, and I release a deep breath as I push past the curtain and step onto the runway. The second I'm in their view, dollar bills fly into the air, landing at my feet as I stride down the stage, doing my best to stay sexy when I'm feeling anything but. I drop into a split and twerk, sending a skinny man in the front row into a frenzy, but he only drops a couple of ones. Of course. It’s always ones.

When I reach the pole, I tighten my grip around it and thrust myself up, using all arm strength to stay elevated. The men go crazy and money flies, and I have to force myself not to look down to see how much I'm getting. I make my way to the top of the pole and put on my grand finale—grinding my hips high above the crowd before turning upside down and looking out.

That’s when I see him.

I flip myself right-side-up and keep looking, and I see a man sitting at the bar wearing a blood red suit with a gold chain dangling from his chest pocket. He has a deep chocolate skin tone and a perfectly groomed mini fro to go with his mustache and goatee combo, and his eyes are absolutely stuck on me. He watches me without blinking as I slowly lower myself down the pole. I keep dancing, but it’s like I can't take my eyes off of him, and he absolutely does not take his eyes off me. His mouth is closed, but based on the expression in his eyes, I’d think his jaw was on the floor.

As the song nears its end, I drop to the floor again and lie on my back, spreading my legs wide as money rains on me. I see a few twenties fall from the sky and it makes me feel a little better, so I stay in this position until the song slowly fades out. The crowd erupts as my show ends, and I begin picking up all of the money from the stage floor. As I gather it and shove it into my money purse, I look up at the bar and make eye contact with the man again. I watch as girls approach him, doing their best to flirt in the hopes that they can dance for him, but he shoos them away without ever breaking eye contact with me. My heart starts to race as I stare back, struggling to pick up my money as Von calls for me from behind the curtain, telling me to hurry up and get off the stage. I have to snap out of it, literally shaking my head just to get myself together enough to finish and jog to the back.

“Goddamn,” Von exclaims. “You put on a good show, then take all that time clearin’ the stage. You're killin’ me, Aaliyah. Now I'm telling you, don't be back here messin’ around. Get changed and get back on the floor ASAP. Let me see the money.”

I sigh as Von takes my purse and organizes the cash. It’s only around two hundred and fifty dollars, and he takes a hundred before shoving the bag back into my hands.

“Cool. Now move it. After that show, there's probably five or six people out there that want a lap dance, so if you want more money, here’s your chance to earn it. Hurry up.”

I don't respond as Von walks away, leaving me alone in the locker room. I change as quickly as I can, donning an all-red lingerie set with a sheer nightgown. I think I'm moving fast, but before I can put the nightgown on, Von rushes back in.

“You ready? Somebody is askin’ for you out here.”

I sigh. Stanley must be back.

“Yeah, I'm ready,” I answer. “Who is it?”

He shrugs and frowns. “How the hell should I know? Some dark dude in a fancy suit. He’s got the girls going’ crazy out here, but he asked for you. It looks like he's paid, so don't mess this up. It’s time to make our money. He's in booth eight.”

Our. Why does my money have to be our money?

“Alright, I'm coming,” I say, donning the nightgown and walking out behind Von.

I step out of the locker room and start the journey from the back to booth eight, which is in the furthest corner of the room with the least light. I hurry past all of the other booths until I reach number eight, with the lights so low I can barely see who’s in it until the moment I step into the entrance.