The other Brother

To dance…or not to dance

I stared my reflection over in the bathroom mirror; hair a mess, skin flushed, and a fresh , deep purple hickey on the right side of my neck from where Tyler had indulged. Why had he marked me? It was reckless. Then again, maybe if I did see Trent again, it could work in my favor. As if I didn’t give two shits about the fact that he had dumped me, as if I had so easily moved on, as if I wasn’t angry but rather, I was unbothered. Of course it wasn’t true, of course it got my adrenaline going and my blood boiling just to think about him and how dirty he had done me, how little I so clearly meant to him. I hated him. So why was I letting it get under my skin so badly? But maybe, just maybe, I was just as bad as Trent. Wasn’t I? Three years and it took me all but twelve hours—-give or take—-to sleep with his brother. I was vile, scum, dirty. Maybe I deserved what he’d done to me.

Grabbing my makeup compact, I blotted over the mark on my neck with a full coverage foundation powder. I couldn’t seem to get it completely covered up but it was good enough. The bar lighting was dim anyway, it wouldn’t be detectable at the club.

Next was my hair. I brushed out all of the tangles and frizz that had developed while I was being railed, my hair falling in its natural wavy pattern. I looked presentable now but I was a bit of a perfectionist—so I took some extra measures. I added blush to my cheeks and coated my already-long-lashes in dark brown mascara. Brown mascaras always seemed to bring out my multi-colored eyes in the most flattering way. Grabbing a lipstick similar to the color of my blush, I dabbed it onto my lips until they were flushed a nice shade of reddish-pink and looking plump and juicy from the glossy finish. The makeup was subtle but it brought out my features and left me satisfied with my appearance.

By the time I left for work, Tyler was gone. I wasn’t sure when he left or where he’d gone but then again—-it was genuinely none of my business and I should not have cared as much as I did. Turning to my ex-boyfriend’s little brother as some type of rebound? Poor decision making on my end. It wouldn’t happen again.

I grabbed my keys off of the key hook that hung on the wall just to the left of the front door, stuffed them into my pocket and headed to the parking lot. If the tone had been set for the day, it was going to be a long night at the club for me and I was not particularly looking forward to it.

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By the time I got to work, the club was already packed. Which was to be expected on a Friday night at a strip club in the city. I worked three nights a week; Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. My shifts lasted from 7pm-3am. They were the busiest shifts of the week and I made a survivable wage off it. I could afford my share of rent and pay for groceries, I had enough money to buy essentials and even non-essentials—-just not enough to afford my own apartment in the city on top of everything else. That would have to change, I’d either have to pick up extra shifts or find a way to make double, maybe even triple the amount of tips I was already making a night.

I’d made an extra effort to be accommodating to the bar patrons, putting on my best smile, maintaining eye contact, holding conversations, even flirting—-and while tips were flowing, it still wasn’t enough. So on my twenty minute ‘lunch’ break, I’d gone to the back office to talk to my manager, Hank, instead of fitting in a bite to eat before continuing the busy night.

“Well if it isn’t everyone’s favorite bartender,” he greeted as I sat down across from where he sat at his desk in a swivel chair on wheels. “What’s going on, you need a time off request?” Hank had always been a pretty good boss.

“The opposite actually,” I confessed. “I was hoping maybe I could pick up some extra shifts during the week?”

I watched the smile fall from his face. “I’m sorry, sweetie. No can do. Not unless you’ve changed your mind and want to take on the stage.”

Stripping? Me? I thought about all the times Trent had tried to talk me into. I’d been too prideful then. But even now, I wasn’t anywhere near confident or sexy enough to capture the attention of so many people, not enough to make actual money without simultaneously make a total fool out of myself.

I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair, leaning back in the seat. “I’ll think about it.” I lied. There was nothing to think about. I wasn’t fit for that type of work.

“Well don’t take too long, I’ve got girls coming in to audition throughout the week to take Milly’s spot now that she’s gone. You have until Monday. Say the word and the position is yours. Tuesdays and Thursdays, 9-3. Making double what you make in a night right now.”

Only two days a week? Six hour shifts? It didn’t sound horrible. No. I wasn’t that desperate, not yet anyway. Though, as my shift neared its end, I juggled the idea of doing it—-dancing. It wasn’t like I had ample amount of time to decide and where else would I be presented with an opportunity to make so much money by working so few hours? It was beginning to sound more and more appealing. Or maybe it was the liquor speaking. One of my usuals had bought a round of shots to share with me and then another round and another. Hank was a lenient boss, I could take drinks from customers as long as they were paid for and as long I was coherent enough to still do my job properly.

“So what are you doing after this?” Al, my usual asked. We’d been talking on and off throughout the night but now that it was close to closing, he was getting almost all of my attention. Almost everyone else had left for the night already.

“Going home,” It was an obvious answer. There wasn’t much to do after 3am, most places were closed by the time I got off work—-apart from a few 24 hour convenience stores, the Waffle House, and fast food restaurants.

“You can’t go back to that asshole,” he was drunk, slurring his words and with a bit of liquid courage myself, I had been over sharing with Al all night. I’d filled him in on my new relationship status, how Trent had cheated on me, how he was off on some s*x binge with his new play toy. Though I’d neglected to mention anything about Tyler. At this point, I kind of just wanted to forget about ever crossing that line with him earlier today. I should have known better. His brother was a playboy and likely, so was he.

I gave a half-choked laugh at Al’s statement. He was an older man who occasionally made passes at me, but he meant no harm and he seemed invested in my love life tonight. “I know.” I grabbed the four empty shot glasses from the counter top in front of him and placed them into the stainless steel sink. “I’m not. He’s not home. He’ll be gone all weekend. I’ll have my stuff cleared out before he comes back,” I promised.

“Atta girl. He’ll get his karma, don’t you worry. What goes around comes around.”