Dance Moms - Chlobird

Chapter 1 : Rush Hour

"Blaze! You're late!" Harish was already at the door, tapping at his gold wristwatch while puffing his cigarette.

"I know! I know!"

Dodging her manager's cloud of smoke, she ran into the changing room, dumped her bag on a dressing table, turned it upside down, and poured out everything to find her costume and wig.

"Second time this week! Late again and you're fired!" Harish growled as he chased into the room.

"I know! I know! I'm here, aren't I?" Brooke stripped to her skin and pulled up her golden bra.

Dancers at the Red Rocket grew accustomed to male staffs hanging in the changing room, they were the least of their problems.

"You're not wearing that again. Are you?" one dancer teased.

"I'm sure you can find something better at Target!" another snickered.

"If I can afford time I will!"

Brooke kicked away her wet sneakers, peeled off her baggy pants and underwear in a single move, then yanked a matching gold bikini-bottom to her waist.

She pulled the fake golden polyester over her long brunette hair, grunting in pain as she hid the last of her dark hair under the cheap wig.

Finally, she put on her performing footwear, a pair of six-inch heels that puts her in the same place as other dancers in this place - someone who sells their dignity to make a living.

"Blaze! You're up!" a bouncer popped his head over the door.

"Damn it! I just got here!"

She barely had enough time to check the mirror when she heard her music start.

"Fuck!"

She quickly dashed out of the changing room, pushed through a black velvet curtain and out in the spotlight, so hurried she tripped those heels on the edge of the stage. But she managed to improvise, caught the pole and made a spin, acting like it was part of her entrance.

She started to dance in a luring fashion, shaking her breasts and buttocks, it was what customers paying to see, and hopefully she could get some private lap dances for extra income.

She always has a passion for dancing, but growing up a farm girl that was never a choice, there was nothing but cornfields and livestock back home, and she was very lucky to find two jobs that relate to her passion - being an assistant choreographer at a dance studio, and an erotic dancer in a nightclub. The last thing she needs is for some little girl's father to find out their dance teacher is a stripper.

That's why she chose to work at the Red Rocket, a low-profile joint located on the outskirts of the city, run by an Indian boss and his relatives. Its customers were foreign too, mostly Asian tourists, all coming for a glimpse of their fake fantasies toward American beauty, thus the blonde wig.

Her eyes swiped around the floor as she danced, checking on tonight's customers. On a rainy night hangs the usual dead crowd, just a few lonely souls drinking into the night, or on occasion, finding an excuse to blow off steam. Men don't visit strip joints if they have a happy life.

She spotted Ticking Todd, one of the few local customers. The staffs gave him that name because he always sits alone, but his silence would snap into explosive rage should things don't go his way, like a ticking time bomb.

None of the girls like to serve Todd due to his uncontrollable rage, even though he's a big tipper, one could only guess the loner has little else to spend in his life. Still, money is money, and tonight Brooke decided to try her luck.