|pov —ariana grande|
Juniper hated the way her father leaving had affected her. Of course growing up without a stable father figure would start to show at some point. For Juniper, it started right around puberty. She began to feel the absence more. She had always been independent, she got that from her mom, but Juniper didn't have anyone to truly depend on. When her mother wasn't at work, she was cozied up with an empty bottle. They didn't have the best relationship, Juniper hated seeing the way addiction changed her mom.
At 13, Juniper realized that she didn't really have anyone. No one on the backburner to help her when she needed it. No one to teach her right from wrong. No one to save her after she had fallen victim to mistakes. And then at 14, Juniper learned that the only person she could trust and depend on was herself.
well, there was another thing she would learn to depend on.
Juniper was diagnosed with anxiety and early onset panic disorder when she was seven. She had been on every type of anti-anxiety pills you could think of, and every prescription would eventually get bumped up until it couldn't anymore. There were times when she felt hopeless. Like the shakiness would never leave, and her mind would forever be in a tornado of dark prying thoughts. That was until when she was prescribed clonazepam. Most doctors don't recommend prescribing benzodiazepines, because they've proven to be highly addictive, but they work crazy fast. Juniper had recommended that she stay off Xanax knowing of her mother's past with addiction, but figured that klonopin would be alright.
Anxiety comes with a handful of unhealthy coping mechanisms, though Juniper seemed to only have one. Now just because it wasn't sex or excessive dependency on drugs and alcohol didn't mean that she didn't have her secrets.
"Clonazepam?" Rue read carefully as she picked up the small orange bottle that was sitting neatly on Juniper's side table. She twisted to Juniper, who was standing in the doorframe of her bathroom removing her makeup. "You have anxiety?"
"Yeah, ever since I can remember I've been taking pills to level out my serotonin," Juniper threw the used makeup wipe in the trash and began walking over to Rue. "and to help with my panic attacks, and actually a lot of doctors don't like prescribing medication like clonazepam because--"
Rue flopped backwards onto Juniper's bed. "They're highly addictive."
Juniper sighed as she rolled onto her stomach. She looked at Rue through her eyelashes. "Sorry for bringing it up, Rue."
"Don't be Juni," Rue shrugged. "I can't run from it, I've only been back from rehab a week," she popped her fingers. "I have to talk about it at some point-- and besides, I'm sure everyone has their unhealthy coping mechanisms."
Juniper knew that I was an addict a few hours into unpacking her house. She recognized the slight symptoms of redrawl. We learned a lot-- if not too much-- about each other that night, which made us become best friends within 8 hours.
Juniper chuckled lightly in agreement. "Yeah, you're right."
Rue flipped onto her side to be able to look at Juniper. "Oh yeah?" She asked, gaining the other's eye contact. "what's yours then, 'little miss perfect,'"
Juniper scoffed. "I am so not perfect--"
"Sure you aren't," Rue argued back playfully. "Come on! It can't be any worse than mine."
"Okay," Juniper pushed herself into a sitting position, watching Rue follow suit. "Okay, fine," She huffed and leaned in close to whisper into Rue's ear. She sat and listened for a second before letting her jaw drop slightly.
"No fucking way," Rue shook her head as she closed her eyes for a second. "There's no fucking way!"
Every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, Juniper would sneak out of her window with a small backpack filled with sweet smelling perfumes, makeup, hair accessories, and outfits that she bought off amazon with her first ever debit card. And when the sun came back up the hillside, she would sneak back in with the same materials, plus a wad of delicately counted cash.
Juniper worked at a club, and was the best pole dancer The Tarot had seen in a while-- though Juniper preferred the term exotic dancer. She wasn't ashamed to be working at a club. She made fast cash and was always showered in compliments, but the situation wasn't an ordeal. Juniper needed to start saving up for an apartment, and plus, she needed money to get by. Her mom wasn't bringing in enough for the both of them, she knew that.
She had turned 18 at the beginning of the summer, and was new to dancing in front of an audience. Juniper kept her job a secret from everyone, not because she was ashamed, but because she was scared of what other people would think of her.
People were open with their opinions--really open-- and a lot of those people hated the thought of exotic dancers. They thought they were dirty, sluts, any other name they could think of. Juniper had been called things that made her not proud of working at The Tarot, and it was part of the reason she stopped telling people where she worked-- but she knew they didn't understand. They didn't understand the way her heart calmed the moment the red and purple fluorescent lights touched her skin. They didn't understand how her mind cleared and all she had to focus on was her body and the way it moved.
Despite being many of the customer's favorite, Juniper had her rules.
1: No one could ask her to remove her mask.
For secrecy reasons, Juniper wore a red, silk mask over her nose and mouth so her customers could only see her eyes. Like I said, the situation wasn't an ordeal.
2: No sex
No matter how much a customer was offering, Juniper still had her morals. She would give lap dances occasionally, if she needed the extra cash, but she never went further than that. Sex was never really a special interest of Juniper's anyways.
And finally, the most important rule: No one could touch her unless she said so.
Constant was important, and she only let people touch her in the backrooms. Juniper made this rule her first week on the job, but didn't need to heavily enforce it until the beginning of August when an older guy got a little too drunk. He ended up putting his hands on her, and grabbed her off her stage. She told me it was the most scared she had ever felt-- though she would go on to meet someone who would change her life. For the worse or better, we still don't know.
Juniper felt his fingerprints etched into her skin, and could already see the plum bruises that would stain for the next few days. Her body froze the moment his hand reached out and entered the small pool of light that laid on her stage.
"Come on now," His voice was low, and deep, though in a way that made all the hair on her arms stand up. "I told you I'd pay you."
Juniper felt her heart drop. Her breathing slipped from her throat and slithered down into her chest, getting caught. She couldn't grasp the air around her. It was like it was running— letting complete terror fall into Juniper's lungs. "Please," She whimpered as she began to wheeze. Her breaths were choppy, and echoing all around her; Juniper gasped for oxygen as the man's grip tightened around her waist.
"Stop being so selfish," he spat, whisky covered words coating over Juniper's face.
Juniper's eyes began to slowly flutter as her breathing quickened more. All of the sounds that were once surrounding her were replaced by the sound of her heartbeat. She heard it deep within her ears. Juniper was quickly consumed by the thunder of her own body.
Her sight started to blur from tears and the lack of oxygen she was intaking. "I don't want this," Juniper cried. She didn't recognize her voice anymore. It was fragile and quiet. She didn't even think the man heard her. "Please," She gave a weak yank on her wrist. "I don't want this."
Her eyes drifted down toward the man's belt buckle. It was undone. "I said,'' he yanked Juniper closer to him. "Stop being so fucking selfish."
Then Juniper's body felt light, not held down by anything. Her waist was free of over-intoxicated hands, and the fear that came with them. Relief cascaded over the girl first, confusion came next. Juniper brought her eyes up from the ground for the first time since it had started.
She saw the man laying on the ground, crimson gems painted on his face until he looked unrecognizable, and then there was a younger guy crouching over him mumbling under his breath.
Juniper felt her breathing slow, and her heartbeat faded from her senses. Her hand crept to her chest, and felt her heartbeat rumble under her fingers. She kept it there until she relaxed more. Juniper kept her eyes on the mysterious man, and watched as he stood up then as he walked to the door.
"Juni—" a voice called as heels clicking on the stage sounded. "Are you okay?"
Juniper looked over her shoulder at who had run over. Lacy Hawkenson, or as she was better known in the club, Widow, was the one to run over to her. She was older than Juniper by a few years, and Lacy was also Juniper's only friend at the club thus far.
She nodded slowly. "Yeah," Juniper looked at the door again. The man was gone. "Yeah 'm okay Lace."
"Looks like we have another guy to ban," Lacy shook her head as she crossed her arms. "We should really start cuttin'' people off."
"Yeah," Juniper lazily agreed before tilting her head slightly toward the door. "Do you know who that was?"
"Oh, him?" Lacy asked, quickly letting a smile stitch onto her face. "That was your regular."
Juniper scoffed. "I just started here— you know I don't have regulars yet."
"That's what you think," Lacy chuckled as she started to walk away.
"Wait!" Juniper ran after her.
"Look, he comes around every now and then," Lacy tapped a chair as she passed it. "He sits here, in the back. He's a club regular I guess but he's got eyes for you baby."
"How, I don't—"
"He only ever stares at your stage," she looked over her shoulder. "now, stop stutterin' and go thank him,' ' Lacy winked at her before disappearing into the back room where the girls got ready.
Juniper ran to the front door, and stumbled outside. The evening air nipped at her mostly bare skin and she quickly shuddered under the pressures of the dropping temperatures. Juniper wandered around the parking lot until she saw a figure leaning over the hood of a car.
"Excuse me?" She called softly, but she gained his attention. At first, Juniper didn't know if she had called out to the right person, but then she saw his bloody knuckles.
"Hi," He replied, watching the girl approach him.
Under the streetlamp, Juniper tried to make out anything about his face. She couldn't see much in the orange hue; Juniper thought she noticed that his hair was buzzed under the beanie he was wearing, and that his beard seemed blond or ginger but she couldn't be sure. Though in the light of the pastel pink skies, Juniper knew he had blue eyes.
"I wanted to say thank you," Juniper stared at the pavement as she talked, her hands drawing warm patterns on her frigid skin. "For what you did for me back there... you didn't have to."
He shrugged, "Shit, it's no big deal," he licked his lip as he paused. "The guy shouldn't be touchin' you like that."
"Are you okay?" Juniper lightly gestured toward his hands. "Your hands?"
He dropped his eyes down to his bruised and bloody skin, letting a soft smile slip onto his lips. He clenched his fists a few times. "Yeah," a chuckle escaped his throat as he showed his hands off to her. "They're okay."
"Well, I'm glad you didn't get too hurt," Juniper sent him a shy smile as she started to turn on her heels. "Thank you again."
"Hey," he called out, drawing her back to him. "What's your name?"
Juniper froze. She hadn't decided on a dancer name yet. Every night she had been going into work, her and Lacy would test out a new name to see if it seemed right. Her eyes drifted down to her torso, then to her chest. On her sternum laid a small, petite cherry tattoo she got on her 18th birthday. Juniper picked up her eyes from the ground.
"You can call me cherry."