Keep the Wolf from the Door

Chapter 2 - Wolf at the Door

2:

Wolf at the Door

The guitar twanged as the spot light beamed on Des, while whistles called to her from the fervent crowd. Her sandy blonde curls spread out wildly over top of the white grand piano. Her sparse black costume sparkled in the bright stage lights. Her toes in a perfect ballet point inside her tightly strapped black stiletto. She held the attention of the crowd as she extended her bare, smooth, glistening legs—more whistling. Her body twisted in time to the music and the rhythm of the sultry melody coming from the beautiful instrument beneath her. She smiled down at the blushing piano player falling behind in his count. Stepping down from the piano, she began her routine.

Des was a headliner at Jezebel's House, a live burlesque show inside a rustic lounge for the young, rich, and trendy. The show featured satirical comedy acts, live music, and sultry dance routines performed by equally sultry women. She knew it wasn't the most noble of dance gigs, nor was it an honest way to make a living, but what a great living she made. "A stepping stone," she told herself. She would have never imagined making a permanent home for herself on that stone for six long years.

Charlie Campbell—an above average looking man with plenty of money to burn. His blue-eyed charm made him a hot commodity at Jezebel's. Des thought he was a dog. But he was a high paying customer and, more importantly, a good friend of Milo, her boss, who happened to be sitting next to him in the booth. So she played the part. She jumped onto their table as Charlie talked on his cell phone, and she went about her bit. Looking over her shoulder, she found Charlie holding his cell phone to her butt as the men at the table chuckled. She rolled her eyes. He was known to be quite animated, which most found funny. Just like a cartoon. She flashed an inviting smile his direction and gracefully stepped down.

She made her rounds tantalizing members of the crowd, wrapping her body around the chrome poles, twisting around the tassels hanging from the back drop and making her way towards center stage where she and the other dancers breezed through the rest of the routine. Cheers and whistles filled the room as the velvet curtains drew closed.

Des walked into the dressing room. The young blonde hunched over the vanity with a newly inherited hundred dollar bill to her nose was Abbey Valdez. Sitting opposite her was Marcia, and she was no rookie. She was a tall twenty six year old brunette with a thick Brazilian accent who offered no formal dance training, just Brazilian flare. She started at Jezebel's around the same time as Des and, though not related, she was the closest thing to family Des had.

Des walked up to the vanity. "If Milo catches you doing that stuff back here you'll be blackballed." Abbey gasped. "Mhmm. The last girl he caught doing that stuff can't get a gig anywhere in the city. As a matter of fact Milo's on his way back here and he's looking for you."

Abbey dropped the bill onto the vanity and ran out of the change room swearing in Spanish.

Marcia chuckled. "Nice." She grabbed the bill and snorted the white powder off the mirror.

"What are you doing, giving her that junk?" Des scolded. "She's been here a month."

"Hey, she brought it to me. And it has been a while, so?" Marcia picked up Abbey's coke, tucked it into her bra, and gave her nose a quick check in the mirror. Des narrowed her eyes. She found it a waste of time to argue with Marcia, who did what she pleased. Marcia was no habitual drug user. She had seen the repercussions in her mother. But she was quite fond of the drink. Since her perfect Brazilian body metabolized fat at light speed, she could afford the habit.

Des grabbed some cotton and began scrubbing away at the thick layer of stage makeup on her face.

"Are you not sticking around tonight, princessa?"