My Stepbrother Rare Omega

Erica's POV The bass hit and my body answered like it had no other choice. Four years of this stage, these lights, these crowd and I still got that rush the second the beat dropped. That dirty, electric yes that started at the base of my spine and moved up. I lived for it, the heat, the noise, the way three hundred people could hold their breath at the same time because of me. I rolled my hips slow, letting the music pull me apart and put me back together. My hands traced down my ribs, my waist, and lower, like I had all night and knew it. The slik of my costume caught the light every time I moved, flashing gold. I arched back, hair sweeping the stage, and the crowd go crazy. I came up smiling, slow and wicked and pointed at nobody in particular. A man in the front row nearly knocked over his drink and I felt nothing except for mild, satisfied amusement. That was the whole game. Be the most interesting thing in the room. The song shifted, darker and heavier and I moved with it. Dipped lower, back arched, thighs spread just enough and the crowd roar, and then I came back up. A man in the second row screamed my name, I blew a kiss and he screamed louder. My name in strangers mouths always sounded like something they were begging for and I loved that, I loved that they thought they knew me from watching me move and they didn't know a single true thing. I finished the set the way I always did, one last slow roll, one last look over my shoulder, lips parted just slightly, eyes heavy and then walked off the stage like I owned the floor, because I did. The backstage area was a maze of half-dressed bodies, the sticky-sweet smell of body spray trying to cover four hours of performance sweat. "Gurlll. They were CRAZY out there." That was Diana, already in my face, eyes wide, grabbing both my arms. "The man in the grey suit? He flagged down a server three times during your set." "I guess it's good for his hydration." I dropped into my chair and reached for a wipe. "Erica." She said. "He left his number with the bartender." "I don't date the audience members." I said. "He's not asking for a date, he's asking for..." "Diana." I looked at her in the mirror. "I don't do that either." She threw her hands up and wandered off, muttering something I didn't catch and didn't need to. I dragged the wipe across my collarbone, watching the highlighter smear like a shedding a second skin. Under the stage lights I was whoever they needed me to be but back here I was just a sweaty twenty-three years old with aching feet and a suppressant patch itching under her left shoulder blade. My phone buzzed and I ignored it. It buzzed again, I picked it up, saw the name and set it face-down on the vanity. It buzzed a third time. "Oh, my god, fine." I snatched it up and swiped. "What." "That's no way to talk to your mother." My mother's voice came through. "You need to come home." I laughed, i couldn't help it. "Hello to you too." "I'm not joking, Erica." Her voice was sharp through the phone. "I didn't say you were." I said. "I'm not coming." "Your uncle wants to speak to you." She said. "Tell him I'm busy." I leaned back in my chair, and crossed my legs. "Tell him I work nights." "Erica." Her voice was soft. "You'll be there by morning." The dressing room noise kept going around me, Diana laughing at something on her phone, two other girls arguing, someone's heels clicking against the tile but I'd gone very, very still inside. "What happens if I'm not?" I asked. "You know what happens if you make this difficult." I hung up, sat there for a second, then I peeled off my stage lashes, grabbed my bag and went to find Mila. She was in the lounge, legs thrown over the arm of the purple chair, scrolling through her phone. She looked up when I walked in and immediately read my face. "Okay." She said. "What happened?" "I have go home." I said. She sat up slowly, and set her phone down. "How long will you be staying?" I wanted to say two weeks, maybe three, I'll be back before you know it. "I really don't know," came out instead, because it was the truth and she knew it. We sat for a second then Mila stood up, grabbed her jacket, and pointed at me. "Okay, we're not doing sad tonight. No." She grabbed her keys off the table. "Kim's thing is still going. The bar on the Sixth is open until four and you still owe me a rematch at the pool." "Mila..." "Kim has that bottle of Don Maximo she's been gatekeeping since January..." She said cutting me off. "She's been holding that since January?" I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah," she said. "So you in or are you gonna sit there, sulking?" I stared at her and she stared back. "I need to change." I said finally. "You've got five minutes." She grinned. "I'll call the Uber." "Mila." I said. "Thank you." "Save the feelings for after the tequila." She waved me off. "Go change." I laughed and headed for the door. "We're going to have the best night ever."