stripper killer [matty healy]

twelve - trepidation

trepidation: (noun) a feeling of fear or anxiety about something that may happen.

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india

when i arrive at work; fifteen minutes late, carl is flapping around the dressing room looking as stressed as a paedophile in a park.

"oh, god! there you are!" he rushes in my direction, a pissed yet relieved expression spread across his sweaty face. "where on earth have you been? you're late, you know?"

i set my handbag on the floor next to the dressing table and lower myself into the seat, avoiding eye-contact. "i grabbed a coffee, the queue was ridiculous..." i hear him scoff at my unworthy reason for not being on time. "i'm really sorry." i add.

his face softens at my apology and the tapping of his foot comes to a halt, followed by his hand falling from his hip - leaving him looking completely non-threatening. he lets out a deep sigh, before nodding. "just make sure you're ready okay?"

i cut him a tight smile and a nod, turning to face to mirror; focusing on the lifeless brown haired, blue eyed girl that was staring back at me. i honestly was so drained. the whole not-speaking-to-niall thing was taking its toll and i had been running on coffee only for the past 11 hours. i have no idea how i was going to make myself presentable enough to go out there. picking up the foundation bottle and brush, i get to work. this wasn't going to be easy.

*

the door clinks three times before creeping open, carls head poking through. "how we doin'?"

"almost" i pry my finger away from my eye slowly, trying to remove it without pulling the whole false eyelash off. "there."

"you're on in 5, i'll be outside." he shuts the door again.

i stand from the dresser and make my way whole body mirror on the other side of the small room. i fiddle with the straps on my suspended belts. i hate these things. my eyes narrow on myself, taking in my reflection. my hair was wild 'n' wavy, flying in all directions - making me look as though i'd been in bed a week (which was apparently classed as sexy) and it was backcombed ridiculously - it was kind of making my head itch.

my face was pale, but flawless - thanks to the foundation. each cheek, nose and jaw bone was perfectly attenuated due to bronzer, which was doing a great job making my face appear thinner, my eyes were smoky, hidden behind long thick lashes and my lips were stained crimson - as always. i looked ok. more than that actually, especially considering i'd done it all in less than forty minutes - getting into this tight uncomfortable underwear and huge heels included.

a quick spritz of perfume and i'm ready to go. carl was waiting outside me door, as promised.

"you look great. let's go." he sets of down a narrow hall, taking a right, then a left and then another left until we reach backstage. i've done this walk that often i could perform it with my eyes closed. yet however, he would always walk us from the dressing room to the stage. he was a nice guy, and did tend to help out whenever he could. he wasn't like most other adult club owners; he genuinely cared for his girls. yeah sure, he was a little tough sometimes but you have to be when you're in charge of a bunch of strippers.

i shift on my feet nervously, the ankle strap on my platforms was beginning to dig into my skin but i didn't have time to fix it. anastasia, one of the other dancers was walking off stage, looking a little beat.