It’s been three hours since I started my shift and still no sign of Amber who should have shown up by now. At the near end of the changing room, tucked in an alcove to one side of the black curtain, there sits a deep, bright pink couch. It’s the only comfy seating in the entire room, and as such, is much coveted by exhausted dancers. Finding it vacant, I sit down and adopt a lotus pose, stretching my glutes. It’s nearing eleven o’clock, and the changing room is crowded again. Amy totters in, steadying her balance with one hand on the wall. The coffee I made for her earlier hasn’t touched even the sides. That, or she’s been having cocktail chasers.
“Hey, Rubes,” she says, flopping down sideways on the couch. She stretches her feet over my legs, her bare heels dangling in my crotch.
“I’m a
