The modest sized apartment that Chanel and I rent on the Lower East Side is on fire. I think. A terrible whiff of burnt something reaches my nose and my eyes snap open immediately. Big mistake. My eyes are shut again within seconds due to the billows of black smoke that stings them and invades my bedroom.
"Chanel!" No answer.
"Chanel!" A pan clatters to the floor in the kitchen. With a grunt and a sigh I haul my ass out of bed and squint through the smoke trying to locate my roommate.
"Anya! I know this looks bad, but it's not, trust me" she races to the kitchen window and proceeds to swing around a rag as if the smoke would willingly comply and exit the apartment.
"What the hell Chanel?" She looks at me timidly and points to several pots and pans stacked and smoking in the kitchen sink.
"I tried to make us breakfast, like a super good breakfast, things went pretty bad pretty fast." Behind her the toaster spits out two pieces of blackened bread before emitting its own fumes.
"Aren't you late for work?" She perks up again and slides me a cup of coffee. The smoke starts to dissipate and I eye the coffee mug wearily.
"Nope! Helena took too much Valium this morning and can't even speak according to Jessica, who gave me the day off!" I smile and start to rinse the mess in the sink. It's no use. Whatever Chanel had tried to cook was scorched onto the surfaces and wouldn't even be cleaned out without some serious soaking.
"Why are you up anyway?" It was a valid question. I usually slept all day so I could work all night.
"I was debating wether or not to call the fire department"
"Ha. Ha. Ha. Funny. Want a pop-tart?"
"Way ahead of you." I walk to the pantry and pull out two pop-tart packages.
"Eat. Then go back to sleep. You're actually performing tonight right?" I pick at the crust of my pop-tart and eat it rather greedily.
"I preform every night" I say though a mouthful of the dry pastry and Chanel rolls her hazel eyes.
"I meant are you going to be performing on stage you smartass" I nod and take another bite of my breakfast. By the time Chanel and I finish eating the house is thankfully devoid of smoke but the smell still lingers.
Chanel, making the most of her day off, grabs the comforter from her bed and drags it to the living room where she cocoons herself in front of the television. I yawn and stretch and she points to the hallway leading to my bedroom.
"Sleep" she commands, and so I do.
Hours later
Waking up is not an easy task. My alarm clock blares some shitty radio music and I desperately tries to silence it. When my hand fails at its several attempts I decided to get up. The only things
that I need to bring to the club are myself and my purse.
The Nysa Lounge is extremely high end and all of the dancers are given makeup artists and stylists, so I usually show up in leggings and a t shirt. Tying my long curly hair into a ponytail I sling my purse over my shoulder and walk out of my bedroom. Chanel lay sleeping on the couch a bowl of forgotten popcorn on the table in front of her. I slip out of the apartment and lock the door behind me, heading to the curb to hail a taxi.
"After you left last night some big shot rented out like seven of the VIP sections" Daniella says when I walk into the dressing room.
"Huh. Dudes just keep on getting richer and richer"
"So do we mami!" She enthuses as a stylist fits a platinum wig into her head.
"You're right, you're so right" I agree and she smiles warmly before continuing.
"He bought one for each of his friends,"
"Damn..." Daniella nods and puckers her lips so the makeup artist can paint them a vibrant pink, fitting, I think to myself since her stage name is Fuschia.
"So weird though, they were all covered up and the big shot didn't even get a dance he just drank the whole night" a few cogs click in my mind and I snap my fingers,
"Was he in a hoodie? Where they all in hoodies?" Daniella nods excitedly. Must be that Justin guy.
"Uh huh! They never took them off either!" A makeup artist comes to my station and starts to fluff and pull at my hair.
"Carlisle said that it was a celebrity. You know how they come in here all mysterious and shit" another girl named Erin says walking in and plopping tiredly into a hair and makeup chair.
"ha, please! CP would've tweeted the shit out of this place if it was a celeb. Big shot was just rich" Daniella insists but Erin shakes her head.
"I think Carlisle was paid off. Even he can shut up for a price" Erin says of the club's owner, Carlisle Price. Tonight my hair is curled into long, bouncing curls and sprinkled with flecks of gold glitter. My outfit is a stunning white La Perla bra and matching strappy panties.
"You look like an angel" Daniella pouts motioning to her fiery red lingerie,
"the guys always want the innocent looking ones" she fumes to her stylist who shrugs and hold up her phone
"Carlisle tells me how to dress you guys. He buys I comply" she says before tidying up her work station. I slip on a sparkling set of gold glitter covered heels and do a few practice exercises on the pole in the dressing room. After a few spins and confident aerial twirls I'm ready to get on stage.
The music tonight is slow and sensual. As per routine I wait for the DJ to introduce me before I walk on stage.
" You've heard of the 7 deadly sins but you've never experienced them all with Seven!" There isn't much applause, which is odd. Whenever I preform some of my regulars make it a point to show up. Slow night. I begin my routine and make my way to the pole but when I get there my heart drops several feet because there in the crowd is Justin fucking Bieber a pair of burly men stand behind him and when I glance around again I notice that the club is dead empty. A few other guards stand by the exits and entrances with stoic expressions.
"Hey Seven" he says nonchalantly a grin pulling at his full pink lips. I grip the pole and spin my body around it before landing in a graceful split.
"Hi Justin."