Twisted Devotion

6

Without further delay, please let me present to you all an incredible artist and handsome young man." Candy, one of my Noona's friend hands me the microphone with an encouraging smile.

I climb the small steps to the temporary stage, my heart thumping inside my chest. A hundred of Tanglewood's wealthiest people fill the courtyard, swathed in linen and silk and jewels. Some of these same people frequented the Grand when it was a strip club, anonymous and furtive.

Now they're here with a mixture of pride and disdain-and the same prurient curiosity as before.

My hand shakes as I hold the microphone tight. A sharp, high-pitched sound arcs over the crowd before falling silent. I hold curved metal close to my mouth and speak.

"Thank you for having me tonight." My voice comes out shaky, so I take a deep breath. This is important. Not just for my career, but for my sister. For my friends.

Candy overcame the odds to be standing here tonight, looking glamorous and confident. No one would know she once shivered in a dirty white shift under the control of a cult leader. She's the one who turned this place into a burlesque show.
I grip the microphone tighter.

"It's an honor to be here tonight, sharing my work with you. But this night isn't about me. And it's not really about all of you either." There are a few soft gasps in the audience.

"This is about the women onstage, the ones who dance under those bright lights, night after night. Their costumes are beautiful, their makeup flawless."
My voice grows stronger as I look at my sister, tears shining in her dark eyes, Min Ho's arms around her.
"Their dancing is powerful and elegant, but that's not why we're here either."

I look at Candy, who overcame so much just to grow up.
Things most people take for granted. A home, parents.
Enough food to eat. She started stripping at the Grand to support the only foster parent who ever cared about her.

"We're here to celebrate the women inside, beneath skin and muscle, bone-deep. The resilience of the human spirit. We're here because we want to bask in their strength, if only for a few hours. As if even the sight of them raised up will lift us too."

My voice cracks on the last word, and I can't shake the dread from earlier, the danger. Can't shake the feeling that this is goodbye. I nod to the men dressed in suits on either side of the fountain. They reach for the black silk covering the angel and pull it away.

The crowd audibly sucks in a breath at the sight of the angel, standing proudly in the center of the fountain-her wings stretched as if to take flight, her eyes with all the dark knowledge of this earth and all the painful hope for more.

I step down, my insides still quivering from being onstage, and the crowd sweeps me up. It's gorgeous,transcendent.

Who was your model?
Do you take commissions?
What's your availability?

Noona manages to squeeze in beside me and encircles me in a hug.

"You were wonderful up there," she whispers.

"Thank you," I say, eyes wet with tears.

She hands me back my silver clutch before people press their way between us again. I knew that I might get a commission or two out of this event, but I'm unprepared for the deluge of interest. I answer the questions as best I can,
feeling overwhelmed.

I didn't use a model for this piece.
I'm not sure what my availability will be.
No, I don't have a website.
No agent either.

It feels like I've been fielding questions for hours even though it's probably just been twenty minutes. I'm out of breath and flushed.

"Excuse me," I murmur to an older woman dripping in diamonds.