The Dancer, Part 24
Part 24
“Happy New Year, Bella!”
It was Heather. Of course it was Heather. She had a friendly smile on her face as I met eyes with her on my way down the stairs. Putting on a show for my mother, who was also right there. Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to happen until it was just the two of us. But also, I recognized the threat without Heather having to give me a look; she could very easily pull out her phone and show my parents pictures or videos from last night if she felt so inclined.
So, playing along despite how my heartrate had definitely increased, I forced a smile and said, “Hey, Heather. Happy New Year.”
What had they talked about in the minute or two it took me to come downstairs? All I had told my mother about the previous evening was that I was going to be celebrating with a few of my friends from high school. In my defense, I hadn’t known it was going to be that much of a party. In retrospect, I should have thought about how Autumn was the type to go big. And also, I should have fucking stayed home.
“Can we talk in your room, Bella?” she asked. Turning to address my mother, she added, “Thanks again for the tip, Mrs. Ryan. I’ll tell my mom how it works out, and tell her to tell you!”
Charming as ever. My parents knew most of the girls on my former dance team, as well as the parents of those girls. They just were oblivious to most of the drama that went on, and certainly wouldn’t expect Heather to be here for any malicious reason. Even if showing up mid-morning on New Year’s Day was a bit out of character for a girl who I really wasn’t that close with.
After another minute or two of pleasantries, as I hadn’t yet greeted my mother or wished her the same sentiment I had begrudgingly expressed to Heather, I was finally able to politely turn down the parting offer for coffee and head back up to the second floor with Heather in tow.
I stepped aside upon entering my room so she could walk past me, and was quick to close the door behind me. “What do you want?” I flatly asked. My bedroom was a little cluttered, as I hadn’t been expecting company, though Heather wasn’t exactly someone I needed to impress. I knew being cold to her wouldn’t actually achieve much, as I was aware just how many cards she held, but I couldn’t help myself. At this point, I would cling to whatever pride and dignity I could muster, even if I was pretty much stripped of both last night.
“Rude.” Heather rolled her eyes and slid the drawstring bag off her shoulder. “For starters, I thought you might want everything you left at Autumn’s place.” She handed me the bag with a rather neutral expression.
I briefly considered the idea that opening it would give her some degree of satisfaction. However, I did want my stuff back. My phone in particular, plus my wallet had so many cards that would be a chore to replace. Heather wasn’t lying, either. The cheap bag had my possessions and only my possessions inside; phone, wallet, and keys. Right, my car keys. Those were important, too. I could feel a sigh of relief forming, and did my best to turn it into just a normal breath.
Heather went on, “Your car is down two blocks, by the way. You’re welcome.”
Wait, what? Why? “You drove my car?” I ask. It wasn’t that big of a deal. I occasionally lent out the sedan to friends at college. The difference was, Heather hadn’t been given permission.
“Like I said, you’re welcome. I didn’t know what your parents did or didn’t know, so I didn’t want to risk pulling into the driveway.”
“Yeah, but-” But she was right. That would have sparked any number of questions if they happened to see my car arriving in front of the house when I was up in my bedroom. Questions I wasn’t ready to answer, as I was determined to keep the details of last night as vague as possible while praying that the deletion of my social media accounts would keep my parents from seeing any of the damning posts that were out there.
“I also came to pay you for your services last night,” she continued. Reaching into her purse and pulling out a handful of bills she must have clipped together ahead of time, she said, “That’s $50 for the stripping job itself, and just under $100 for what you made on stage. Not bad, right?”
Excuse me? Autumn had offered $500, and not even ten times that amount would be worth the experience I had last night, as well as all the potential fallout. This was less than half of the original sum, which was all kinds of insulting. Putting aside my absolute humiliation, I did a good job before things started devolving just before midnight. Moved well to the music, figured out how to strip while dancing despite having never done that before. Though I wasn’t particularly proud of my decision to stay and put on a show, I knew I was worth more than what I could make doing menial work for minimum wage.
Heather easily read the look on my face. Since I hadn’t figured out a dignified way to tell her that I should have made more money for taking my clothes off, she said, “Agents get 90%, remember? That means I take $450 from your flat rate, and you can do the math for the rest. You can thank Zoey for collecting all that cash before stripping you, or it would have been a free-for-all. I tipped her well, don’t worry!”
As in, I made almost a thousand dollars from all those hands that stuffed bills into my bra and thong over the course of the evening. That surprising revelation was undercut by the fact that Heather was reaping all the rewards for my ordeal. It still wouldn’t have been worth it even if I was given every penny, but that didn’t change the fact that the girl before me just got a major payday for doing next to no work. “Thanks.” Taking the money from her, I bit my tongue about pretty much everything. I still didn’t want my professors or administrators to learn about any of this, which meant Heather’s leverage was just as effective as it had been before. Getting on her bad side didn’t feel like a good idea, regardless of whether she deserved to be yelled at. Also, my bedroom door wasn’t particularly soundproof.
“Oh, and one more thing,” she smiled, “I lined up another job for you.”