《La Fantoma》


 Sighted

    Things happen for a reason.  That¡¯s what my mom used to tell me, and it¡¯s what I always believed.  But I don¡¯t know anymore.  I¡¯ve had a hard time buying into that lately.  I¡¯m in the graveyard now, and they¡¯re lowering the coffin into that black hole carved into the snow-covered earth.  It¡¯s cold for March, and my breath keeps turning to clouds of frozen vapor.  It makes me think of smoke drifting up from a slowly smoldering fire.  I don¡¯t feel my tears until they¡¯ve frozen, burning hot against my cheeks.  Mom won¡¯t even look at me during the service.  Dad does, but each time I catch him, he looks away and rubs his eyes like he¡¯s was ashamed, embarrassed.


    The priest starts talking as they start shoveling dirt over the body, but I don¡¯t think anyone is really listening.  He says the same things he always does about Jesus and his love and everlasting life.  It¡¯s bullshit.  It¡¯s always been bullshit, but we listen to it because our parents did, and they¡¯re parents before them.  Now though, it all seems so fucking trite.


    I¡¯m tired, way more tired than I should be.  I pull my jacket tighter around myself and my hand lingers, just for a second, over my stomach.  I feel sick.  I wish Vic were there with me, but Mom and Dad wouldn¡¯t have it.  When they think I¡¯m not listening, they call him a word in Tagalog I can¡¯t pronounce, but I know it means scum, low-life, blood-sucker.  Maybe they¡¯re right.


    I realized some time ago that my life with him was changing me, making me harder, colder, maybe a little bit more like a cat than a mouse. When I was a kid, I had a Siamese mix named Baily who would sometimes bring us the birds and mice she caught.  My brother Jeremy told me they do that because they feel bad for you.  They think you¡¯re this helpless kitten who doesn¡¯t know how to hunt.  They think you¡¯re going to starve to death, because there¡¯s just no other way.  That¡¯s what it sometimes felt like with Vic when he was nice.


    When I first saw him, I thought he was a ghost.  He had this way of standing so still he seemed like he might dissolve and vanish into the walls like he was just a smeared grease stain, a mark that over time would dry up and disappear, leaving nothing but a memory.  We were practicing, warming up for a busy night, and I was cleaning the pole after my set.  A pretty, bottle-blonde who goes by the stage name Ruby, walked over to him sitting at a table near the bar.  I swear, I¡¯d thought the place was empty, but when Ruby sat down, she was not alone.


    I watched her say something to him and gesture with her hands.  The light glinted off her sparkling red manicure like claws, and Vic nodded.  He slid something across the table to her, and she took it, smiled, and left.  For some reason, I decided to follow her.


    I found Ruby in the dressing room toilets snorting something from the back of a commode in an open stall.  She looked up when she saw me, glassy eyed and grinning.


    ¡°You want some?¡± she drawled as her blond hair fell over her face and almost dipped into the stinking water inside the bowl.


    I shook my head no, but I asked her who the man was who gave it to her.


    ¡°That¡¯s Vic,¡± she said with a slow, dreamy smile like she was drifting a thousand miles over the toilet, floating on a cotton cloud spun with silver and gold in a sapphire sky.  ¡°He¡¯ll get you what you want.¡±


    A few weeks later, I stayed late chatting to Lara while she cleaned up the bar.  She was one of the few people at Club Diamond who didn¡¯t make me feel a little depressed or scummy when I talked to her.  She told me about how an old friend of hers from high school got her this job after she dropped out of an English program at the University of Akron.  Said her family was furious at first, but then they came around.  They think she works at a restaurant, a brewery or something on West 6<sup>th</sup>.  I told her it¡¯s the same for me, only I was premed, and my parents don¡¯t know I dropped out yet.  I wouldn¡¯t tell them until months later, after I moved in with Vic and my old roommate called them trying to track me down after my subletter split. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    When it was time to go, I headed back to the dressing room.  I stopped when I heard the sounds, but it was too late.


    You ever see something that makes you a little different, something so mundane but so grounded in the grimy filth of this world that it catches you off your guard?  These kinds of moments, they take something from you, don¡¯t they?  They puncture you like a needle.  You don¡¯t even feel it at first, but it sticks with you and drains you slowly...  I hadn¡¯t felt that way since the first time I caught Jeremy using.


    We were sixteen and out parents were out of town for a work thing, some conference my dad¡¯s engineering firm wanted him to attend.  Jeremy had been locked in his room all day, blasting some shitty jock rock like Papa Roach or Staind or whatever.  I didn¡¯t think anything of it until seven o¡¯clock rolled around and I hadn¡¯t seen him once all day, not even to eat.  I threw some leftovers onto a plate, abodo, rice, and a little lasagna, and brought it to him.  I dropped the plate straight on the floor when I saw him there beside the bed.  Mom was pissed when she found the tomato sauce stain all ground in and dried on the carpet when they came home.  We didn¡¯t tell them how I dragged Jeremy to the bathroom and ran the cold shower water over him, how I cried and cried ¡®til he started talking, and he promised never to do it again.  Before that, something that ugly was just a story, a grim and gritty parable people told you to keep you from venturing too far off a path they¡¯d laid out for you.  Afterwards though, you can see through the trees lining the narrow way forward.  You can see how close all of the ugliness really is to you, and it¡¯s hard not to think about it.


    That night, in the back room of Club Diamond, I saw Ruby and Vic and felt that familiar sting of naivety bursting like an iridescent bubble inside me.  There¡¯s always a cost for floating on clouds spun from silver, isn¡¯t there?


    Ruby made a noise like an animal when she saw me.  Her eyes had that same glassy shine to them, but she wasn¡¯t smiling.  She was bent over the back of a ratty sofa, and Vic was behind her, his face vacant and dead like the first time I¡¯d seen him.  He looked at me, and if I¡¯d had a plate, I would have dropped it.


    Now, I wasn¡¯t stupid or a prude or anything like that.  I was nineteen years old and well acquainted with the idea of casual sex.  I¡¯d lost my virginity at seventeen to a boy I didn¡¯t like very much, but I¡¯d let him do it anyway just to have it done with.  I saw him a few times after that and let him take me to prom just to make my parents happy.  He was, after all, a nice young man with a nice family.  During the year I spent in college, I went to a lot of parties, hooked up with a few different guys and tried some things my mom would say would make Jesus cry.  The point is, I didn¡¯t care at all what two consenting adults did when they thought no one was around to see.  It¡¯s just that this felt so¡­ transactional.  And unclean.


    Maybe what made it so strange to me was that I¡¯d come to know Ruby over the last few weeks.  Sometimes, when the club was dead, we¡¯d sit at the bar together and talk.  She always seemed to know all the gossip, which dancers were sleeping together, who was the owner¡¯s favorite, and once, through the closed door of a bathroom stall, how to fix myself so I could still dance on the rag.  She was nice, even if she did start to slur her words a bit after midnight.  It didn¡¯t seem to affect her dancing, and none of her customers minded at all.  Ruby had taken it upon herself to show me the ropes, and I¡¯d come to think of her almost like a big sister.  So it was a little jarring to see her like that with Vic, the two of them rutting like stray dogs in the dressing room.


    I grabbed my coat and ran out past Lara without saying goodbye.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her face, and I think she knew.  I had stumbled onto one of the club¡¯s filthy secrets kept in plain sight.  It was the first of many, I¡¯d discover.  That night, I¡¯d wonder if I should call this whole thing a misadventure and just go back to school, back to studying, back to living the same boring life that everyone had already decided I should live.  But I was already well off that narrow path.  The creatures living amongst the forest in its peripherals had already caught my scent.  They had seen me, and they had decided I was one of theirs.  It was too late to go back now.

 Lightweight

    Later that week, when I saw Ruby¡¯s husband come to pick her up, I watched him for a while as he waited at the bar.  He looked like a nice enough guy to me, rough hands, five o¡¯clock shadow, and a denim jacket stained with black oil at the cuffs and rolled up over thick forearms.  He ordered two whiskey neats and sat there patiently, not even glancing up at the girls in pasties and g-strings parading past him.  When she was finished with her shift, Ruby sat down beside him for a while, drank her whiskey, and cried.  I didn¡¯t know why.


    I remember the first time I told someone I¡¯d taken a job as a dancer in East Cleveland.  It was a low-key party my ex-roommate from college asked me to go to with her, telling me there was a guy there from one of her Psych classes she was hoping to talk to.  I didn¡¯t have anything better to do.  They hadn¡¯t started scheduling me for Saturdays yet, so I went, thinking that if nothing else, it would be a good distraction from the new bills piling up, and maybe someone would bring some good weed.  Sure enough, it wasn¡¯t hard to find a guy who was holding, and we went out on the fire escape so we wouldn¡¯t stink up the place.


    ¡°What¡¯s your major?¡± he said to me, and I knew then that he was a child.


    I told him I was taking some time off school to figure out what I wanted. I said I might not ever go back but wanted to keep my options open.  I told him about Diamonds and how good it felt to just live in my skin for once instead of constantly feeling this pressure to become someone I didn¡¯t even know I wanted to be.


    The kid took a bong hit, and with a slow, croaking voice, he told me I¡¯d probably get addicted to coke and start fucking the club owner.  I wanted to smack the bong out of his soft little boy hands.  I didn¡¯t, and instead I stayed and finished smoking.  Later, when he put those clumsy boy hands on me and tried to kiss me, I shoved him away and laughed.  This wasn¡¯t my world anymore, and I didn¡¯t want it.


    But fitting into my new world wasn¡¯t exactly a breeze either.  About a month after I¡¯d seen Ruby with Vic in the back, a week since she¡¯d been crying at the bar, something messed up happened while I was doing a private dance for a guy in the VIP lounge.


    VIP is where we take customers who want something up close and personal.  It¡¯s a little enclave on the second floor decked out with velvet curtains, plush couches, even a few beds if that¡¯s the scene you¡¯re into.  It¡¯s a nice enough space when the lights are off, but flip a switch and you start to see the stains and frayed edges.  Just like us dancers, we¡¯re better when we¡¯re airbrushed and perfect.  That way, you don¡¯t have to look your fantasy in its untouched face and realize it¡¯s got black heads and crippling student loan debt.


    Now, usually I do about a dozen private dances on a good night, five on a slow one.  I¡¯m not the most popular but I do get my fair share of admirers.  Tonight though, I was on fire for some reason.  There was a bachelor party at Diamonds, and they were getting rowdy, ordering round after round of drinks for themselves and the girls they liked.  I was already on my third vodka cran when Lara set another one on the table between me and the guy in the polo shirt I¡¯d been talking to.  She looked at me and gave an almost imperceptible nod.  I nodded back, the universal signal that I was ok, and she left.  I finished the last of the one in front of me and started in on my fourth.


    ¡°My buddy¡¯s getting married tomorrow,¡± the guy in the polo shirt slurred.  ¡°Think you¡¯re just his type.¡±


    ¡°You want to buy him a dance?¡± I said to him.


    ¡°Maybe one for me first,¡± he said.  ¡°Got to sample the goods.¡±


    I took him by the hand and led him upstairs.  There was always a bouncer on duty outside VIP, though usually you never noticed them.  They kept their eyes down, politely pretending they weren¡¯t listening for any sign of real trouble.  Tonight, the guy minding the scene was Vic.  He pulled back the velvet rope without looking at us and let us in.


    I tried to steer him towards one of the couches, but he pushed me to the bed.  I laughed, trying to make like I didn¡¯t care, like I¡¯d been here a million times before.  He sat back, and I crawled over him, trying to move and look sexy without touching him, all the while ignoring his hands as they moved up my thighs, towards my ass and across my stomach.  He had a silver band on his ring finger I hadn¡¯t noticed before, but now it glistened in the neon pink and purple light as he cupped my breast.  There was no touching in VIP.  This wasn¡¯t supposed to happen.  It wasn¡¯t supposed to be like this.


    ¡°How much?¡± he said as he tried to pull me down on top of him.


    ¡°Huh?  No, it¡¯s not like that,¡± I tried to say, all the while trying to gently push away his pawing hands.  ¡°We don¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°C¡¯mon, it¡¯ll be quick.  I¡¯ll give you two hundred.  Three hundred.  Just tell me.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± I said louder this time, but he flipped me onto my back and pressed a hand over my mouth.


    What came next was almost too quick for me to be sure of how it really happened.  I was disoriented, the lights were shining in my eyes, and maybe I¡¯d had one too many of the watered-down vodka crans Lara made me, but over the guy¡¯s shoulder, I saw¡­  Well, I¡¯m still not exactly sure what I saw.


    It was a black shadow, more a shape than a man.  It was standing over us, watching with eyes that could see for a thousand years.  It was tall with sinuous limbs and a face like something that had died and come back across miles of Hellish wasteland to find me.  It looked at me, and for the second time since Vic had locked eyes with me in that dressing room a month back, I had the unsettling feeling that something in the dark had taken notice of me.


    I wanted to scream, but my mouth was covered, and before I could even whimper, the guy on top of me was torn away and flung across the room.  I heard the sound of his scream, the crack of bone as he hit the wall, and then a low moan as he tried to pick himself up off the floor.  For a moment, I was paralyzed, certain that the thing that had done this was coming back for me next.  But nothing happened, and after a while, I sat up.  I was just in time to see Vic standing there with one of the bigger bouncers, a broad chested guy named Clive, both of them looking down at the slithering pile of scum that had been my customer.  He was huddled against the wall clutching an arm that appeared to bend at an odd angle from the elbow, and he was crying.


    ¡°You, uh¡­  You fucked up his arm,¡± said Clive.


    Vic shrugged.  ¡°Found him like that.¡±


    Clive looked down at the sniveling thing on the ground between them and sighed.  ¡°Well?¡± he said to the man in the polo shirt.  ¡°That what happened?¡±


    The man on the floor looked up to Vic, and I could see in his face that he had seen what I had.  ¡°Whatever you say,¡± he said weakly.  ¡°Just¡­  Just let me go.  Please.¡±


    Clive rolled his eyes like he¡¯d seen it all before, picked the guy up off the floor, and shoved him towards the exit.


    When they were gone, Vic looked to me with those dead eyes of his, and he handed me a little bag of powder like what I¡¯d seen Ruby snorting off the back of the toilet.


    ¡°Try this,¡± he said.  ¡°It¡¯ll help.¡±


    ¡°Help me what?¡± I said, my head still reeling from the shock of it all.


    ¡°Deal,¡± he said.  ¡°With them.  With this.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I told him.  ¡°But, you don¡¯t want me to pay you with¡­  Do you?¡±  I looked at the bed behind me, and Vic looked horrified.


    ¡°Jesus, no,¡± he said.  ¡°Just pay me something from your tips if you want.  Fuck.  Chill out.¡±


    I managed not to cry until he left, and then I felt a little like Ruby must have, only I didn¡¯t have a nice husband to buy me a whiskey neat.  I looked down at the little bag of powder, thought of Jeremy, thought of Ruby, and then thought about that ringed hand cupping my breast, the other one covering my mouth to keep me from screaming.  Maybe I could use a little something to take the edge off.  Just this once.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The medicine worked just like Vic said it would, and before long, I was floating on my own silver cloud over the club and above the bed in VIP.  I was able to put the whole thing out of my head for a while and just think about how nice it was to move my body, to see the men in front of me stare in awe at my young flesh.  I felt like a princess, a goddess, a queen.  All together, I did about ten more private dances that night, twenty in total, but I stayed away from that fucking bachelor party.  Those guys could eat a round of fat dicks.


    Eventually, 3 AM came around and it was time to close up and go home.  All of the other girls had already left or were in the dressing room getting changed into their streetwear.  Vic and Clive were busy walking them out to their cars while Lara cleaned up the bar.  Everyone was ready to go home, but I was up like a live wire.  I was still on stage, climbing to the top of the pole and spinning acrobatically down to the base where I landed in a perfect split each time.  On a good night, I was a fucking brilliant dancer.  Years of gymnastics and ballet classes had seen to that.  But tonight I was alive in my body like I¡¯d never been before.  My nerves sparked and fired like circuits in a perfect machine.  Did dancing always feel this good for Ruby?


    After a while, Lara came over to the stage and waited for me to finish a move called the Gemini which involved hanging upside down, your arms spread while you extended a leg out and crossed the other over the pole to keep in place.  I knew it looked fucking sick as hell, so I held it and floated six feet above the stage, waiting and waiting for my limbs to grow tired, but they never did.


    ¡°Hey!  What¡¯s going on?¡± I said to her without dropping the pose.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on is the club¡¯s closing.  You ready to go home?¡± she said to me.  I noticed then that her arms were crossed and she was scowling just a little bit.


    ¡°Oh.  Right,¡± I said, and I let myself slide down slowly.


    ¡°Shit.  Vicky!  Vicky, what the fuck man?¡± I heard her shout across the club.  I landed in a sort of balletic pretzel at the base of the pole and looked up to see Vic standing beside her, watching.


    ¡°What.  What is it?¡± he said as he looked to Lara and then back to me.  I don¡¯t know why, but suddenly, I liked the feeling of those dead eyes glued to me.  I wanted to keep dancing, and I wanted him to keep watching.


    ¡°What the fuck did you give her, Vic?  You know she¡¯s just a kid.¡±


    ¡°I gave her the same shit as you,¡± he said.  ¡°And she¡¯s not a kid.  She¡¯s just-¡±


    ¡°A lightweight.  What the fuck man.  I can¡¯t drive her home.  I got a date with Lily,¡± said Lara.


    ¡°Shit.  Shit, I got a thing too,¡± said Vic.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Clive?¡±


    ¡°Already left,¡± said Vic.  ¡°Fuck.¡±


    As I watched them argue over me, the high began to fade.  Suddenly, I remembered the events from earlier in the evening, the glint of the ring, the feeling of helplessness as someone tried to take something precious from me.  I felt like a kid.  I felt small.


    ¡°This is your mess,¡± Lara said to Vic.  ¡°Fix it.¡±


    She walked away, and Vic looked at me a little differently than he had before.  This time there was pity, embarrassment, and just a hint of irritation behind that deadpan stare.


    ¡°Get your stuff,¡± he said to me.  ¡°I¡¯m going to drive you home.¡±


    The thing that no one ever explains to you about being a girl is that there¡¯s all these extra rules you have to follow.  Growing up, I heard the same shit they always tell you these days: you can be anything, you can do anything, nothing¡¯s holding us back anymore, and if you put your mind to it, it¡¯s all possible.  ¡°You can be a doctor, Andrea.  A lawyer, an engineer like your father.  God knows your lazy brother won¡¯t do it, but you could.  You¡¯re smart, Andrea.  Use it.¡±  My mom told me that when I was thirteen, and I almost believed it.  But even then, I knew that something about me was different than my twin brother in the eyes of the world.  I was still a kid, but already, people were teaching me how to protect myself, how to keep men from seeing me so that they wouldn¡¯t try to steal what didn¡¯t belong to them.  I was a person, but I was a possession as well.  At least, that¡¯s how half the population saw it.  And there was nothing to be done about that except to keep yourself safe from them.  It wasn¡¯t fair.  It isn¡¯t fair.  But that¡¯s the world we live in, and you can¡¯t be a dumbass about it.


    Vic¡¯s car was a piece of shit, and it smelled like fast food grease and the cheap pine scented air freshener that dangled from the rear-view mirror.  I sat in the passenger seat and waited for him to lock up and finish a smoke with Lara while I watched the snowflakes fall and melt against the wet asphalt outside.  He¡¯d left the heat on for me, so it was warm, but the stiff springs in the seat were starting to dig into me and my muscles were beginning to ache.  I was coming down.  The party was ending.


    ¡°Ok,¡± he said as climbed in beside me and flipped on the radio.  ¡°Where we headed?¡±


    ¡°The apartments on Edgewater,¡± I told him.  ¡°The ones by the pier.¡±


    ¡°Ooh, fancy,¡± he said as he pulled the car out onto the road.  ¡°If I get pulled over, I¡¯m your chauffeur, ok Madam?¡±


    ¡°Sure Jeeves,¡± I played along.  ¡°Whatever you want.¡±


    We didn¡¯t talk for most of the drive, and I leaned my head against the cold glass window beside me.  A dull ache had started to pulse in my temples, and I listened to the sound of the radio.  It seemed like it was stuck between stations.  The noise was mostly static with a few voices spouting a single word or syllable every now and then.  It reminded me of ghosts reaching out from the FM, desperate to communicate something, anything, to the rest of the still breathing world on this side of eternity.  After a few minutes, it started to get to me.  I thought about asking him to change the station, but I never did.


    Later, he¡¯d tell me that he liked the way it filled his head like white noise, blocking out all the little distractions.  I pointed out that white noise wasn¡¯t supposed to be speckled with human voices, snatches of commercial jingles and chart-topping songs.  Then his eyes would go dead again, and he¡¯d look away from me.  ¡°No,¡± he¡¯d say with a current of tragedy buried beneath that monotone.  ¡°There¡¯s worse things than that if you listen good enough.¡±


    Vic was always saying weird stuff like that.  Jeremy used to say that you never really know what its like inside someone else¡¯s head.  I always though that was bullshit coming from him.  As kids we were inseparable, finishing each other¡¯s thoughts and knowing exactly what the other was doing, even if we were all the way in different corners of our big house in Strongsville.  But I guess I was wrong about Jeremy, wasn¡¯t I?  Maybe everything Vic said about himself was true.  Maybe he really was cursed.


    Vic pulled into a fast-food taco place and ordered from the drive through menu without asking me what I wanted.  A Nacho Grande and large Mountain Dew.  They handed him the food through the window and he shoved the greasy bag towards me.


    ¡°Here,¡± he said as I took the bag from him.  ¡°The cure for what ails you.  Or what¡¯s going to ail you.  You¡¯re going to want to sleep in tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said.  I peered into the bag and the smell of the salt and fat and starch all hit me at once, sending pangs of hunger from my gut to my brain.  ¡°Don¡¯t think I can though.  I got yoga.¡±


    ¡°Yoga?  You can¡¯t skip that shit?¡± he said.  ¡°Seems to me you¡¯re already plenty flexible.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate it, but no.  I¡¯m kind of the teacher,¡± I explained, and I closed the bag to eat it later.  ¡°It¡¯s an intro class, and they give me a discount on the advanced ones if I¡­  Sorry.  You don¡¯t give a shit, do you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said bluntly.  ¡°But that sounds like a racket.  You should get paid.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I should,¡± I agreed.  ¡°Then maybe I wouldn¡¯t have to get groped by strangers for a living.¡±


    For a second, Vic looked at me like he was going to say something.  But then, he lit a cigarette, cracked a window, and he pulled the car back out onto the road.


    I don¡¯t know why I did what I did next.  Maybe I didn¡¯t like the way that Lara called me a kid, a lightweight.  Maybe I didn¡¯t want to be seen as a na?ve girl pretending to fit into a world she didn¡¯t belong in.  Or maybe I just liked the way that Vic looked at me most of the time, without pity or worry, just¡­ emptiness.  It was the same empty stare that he surveyed the rest of the grim world with.  Sure, I was perched a little higher than some, but to him, I was just another fallen angel.


    He pulled into the carport of my apartment building and stopped in front of the door to the lobby.


    ¡°Hey.  You uh¡­  You want to come inside?¡± I asked him nervously.


    Vic looked about as startled by this as I¡¯d ever seen him, but the expression faded quickly to something cold.  I felt then like he was sizing me up, trying to perform some complex math in his head before he gave me an answer.  He took the cigarette out of his mouth and ashed it outside the window.


    ¡°Nah.  Some other time.  You got yoga in the morning.¡±


    ¡°Right.  And you got a thing,¡± I said, doing my best to hide my embarrassment.


    ¡°Yeah, hey,¡± he said as I reached for the door handle.  ¡°Before you go, you uh, you mind if I give you some advice?  For free?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I said a little more stridently than I meant to.  Everyone loves to give young girls advice.  Like they have any fucking clue.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fuck around with guys like that.  Let Ruby or Star deal with them.  You¡¯re¡­  Top shelf.  You don¡¯t have to do that shit.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, my bank account says different,¡± I said.


    ¡°Fuck your bank,¡± said Vic.  ¡°I¡¯ve seen you dance, Andi.  You¡¯re a fucking showstopper.  You aught to be writing your own checks, you understand?  Tell the boss you want more money.  Tell him you¡¯ll do more pole work, pose for the calendar, bring ¡®em in so the other girls can suck them off in the back or whatever.  You¡¯re the one that gets them in the door, ok?  You don¡¯t do the dirty work.  ¡®Less you want to.  Then it¡¯s your own goddam business.¡±


    For a few seconds, I didn¡¯t know what to say to him.  I was stunned to learn that not only did he know my name, but he¡¯d seen me dance.  And he called me ¡®a showstopper.¡¯


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I said quickly, and I jumped out of the car before he could see the stupid smile spreading across my tired face.

 Into the Trees

    The next night I was scheduled to work, Lara pulled me aside before we opened and handed me an envelope of cash.


    ¡°You do three pole shows tonight, ok?  And you stay sober.  Ish.  That¡¯s the new deal, got it?¡±


    I nodded, and she shoved the envelope into my hands before I could ask any questions.  When I opened it in the dressing room, I found three hundred dollars cash inside.  Pretty good bank considering I could still make tips on top of it.  Later, when I danced, I looked over to the bar and saw Vic sitting at his usual table, watching.


    I found out through the gossip train that Vic had an in with the owner, whose name was Ron Davies.  He was something like an errand boy or a right-hand man for the retired cop who bought this place back in the nineties.  He did odd jobs and dirty work, the kind of stuff that needs to be handled secretly, off the payroll and all.  Davies had known Vic since he was a kid, and in some ways, he was like a father to Vic.  In that regard, Vic was a little like royalty at Diamonds, though you wouldn¡¯t know it talking to him.  Well, maybe not royalty.  He was more like a favorite bastard, I thought.  Maybe it was him who had put the word in with the boss for me.  Either way, I was pretty grateful to have the pressure of working skeevy clients taken off me.


    The first time Vic and I ever became anything was a couple months after the night he drove me home.  I¡¯d started to feel my way around Club Diamond, to learn all its secrets and all its tricky little intricacies.  Don¡¯t ever dance for a dude wearing sweatpants.  They don¡¯t tip and they just want you to feel their boners.  Be nice to Lara because she had the last say on the schedule.  And none of the other girls got as much take home for floor shows as me, so I had to keep that well under wraps if I didn¡¯t want my hair yanked out in the back parking lot.  Even though I tried to keep a lid on that last point, I still found my shit mysteriously starting to go missing.


    It began with a pair of Pleaser peep toed stilettos in sparkling red that I saw Ruby wearing a couple nights after I assumed I¡¯d misplaced them. I opened my mouth to say something to her, but then I saw her looking across the club to Vic¡¯s table.  He wasn¡¯t looking back at her, and when she turned and saw me staring, she glared venomously.  Maybe she¡¯d noticed that he always watched me when I was on stage and that he sometimes found me on my breaks to trade me spliffs for one of my clove cigarettes.  Either way, we were nothing, and besides, Ruby had a husband at home.  Later that night, I overheard them talking when I went out back for a quick cooldown and a smoke after a dance.


    ¡°Just give me something, Vic.  A little lift.  I don¡¯t care what the fuck you cut it with or whatever,¡± said Ruby.  They were standing around the corner and they must not have heard me come out.  I eased the door shut slowly behind me and lit up my clove.


    ¡°Ok,¡± I heard Vic say to her.  ¡°You going to pay me this time, or what?¡±


    ¡°Pay you?¡± she said indignantly.  ¡°What the fuck was I doing with you last week after close?  You want money or you want your dick sucked?¡±


    ¡°Money,¡± he said firmly.  ¡°I told you that was going to be the last time.¡±


    ¡°And I told you I don¡¯t have it.  You seriously going to do me like this Vic?  I thought I was your girl?¡±


    ¡°My girl?  What the fuck are you talking about?¡± said Vic.  ¡°That why your husband¡¯s been following me around when I leave here?  You know what happens to guys who do that shit to me, Ruby?  They end up at the bottom of the lake, ok?  I felt bad for you.  That¡¯s why I let this¡­  This thing go on so long.  But you got to stop.  Or else something shitty happens to someone who doesn¡¯t really deserve to be dragged into our fucking mess.¡±


    Ruby didn¡¯t answer right away, but I heard the sound of her sniffling.  ¡°It¡¯s her, isn¡¯t it?  That fucking kid.  I seen you ogling her, you fucking perv.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know who you¡¯re talking about,¡± said Vic.  ¡°Far as I¡¯m concerned, you¡¯re all a bunch of walking dollar signs.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± Ruby spat, and I heard the sound of something splashing and Vic cursing softly below his breath.  Ruby rounded the corner, still wearing my heels, and when she saw me, she narrowed her eyes and wiped at the tears smearing her stage makeup.  She snatched the cigarette from between my fingers, and I winced as her glittering red claws snapped within inches of my face.  She took a long drag and ground out the mostly unfinished clove beneath the toe of my favorite shoe.  ¡°And fuck you too, whore,¡± she said before tearing back inside the club.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    As Vic rounded the corner behind her, I saw that startled look I¡¯d seen on his face the night I¡¯d invited him up to my apartment.


    ¡°Shit,¡± he said when he saw me.  ¡°You hear that?¡±


    I nodded as I looked him up and down.  As always, he was dressed in black jeans torn and faded from years of use.  His black hooded sweatshirt was zipped up to ward off a cold wind I¡¯d never seen him shivering against.  Something wet that smelled like vodka and grenadine dripped down his chest, leaving pink drops in the snow behind him where he walked.  His shoulders were hunched like they always were, so you knew he was tall but couldn¡¯t tell how tall until he wanted you to.


    ¡°Look,¡± he said to me, his eyes darting to the cracked door leading back inside the noisy club.  ¡°For whatever it¡¯s worth, you¡­  Well, you¡¯re my favorite dollar sign.¡±


    ¡°Ok,¡± I said, not knowing how else to break this awkward moment off.  Vic nodded and headed back into the club, leaving me to light another cigarette as I grinned like a fat cat hiding a canary behind its teeth.  Why the fuck didn¡¯t I see it then when so much bad karma was looking me right in my goddam face?


    People see what they want to see.  That¡¯s what Jeremy would have said if I¡¯d ever asked him about it.  He always got people like I never could, saw them for what they were even if it was uncomfortable.  He sure as hell saw through Vic the first time he met him, didn¡¯t he?  Then again, I guess everyone seemed to.  Everyone that is, except for me.


    That same night, when I finished up my shift, I waited in the dressing room until everyone else had gone home, and I broke the padlock off Ruby¡¯s locker with a hammer I got from the maintenance closet.  There they were, still shining and gorgeous.  I slipped my shoes on and took a neon blue wig Ruby had worn for eighties night a couple weeks ago from the back of her locker.  I snorted my last line of the shit Vic gave me and started out from the dressing room, still wearing my fishnets, leather minidress, Pleaser peep toes, and my new electric blue wig.  I don¡¯t know why, but tonight I was finally feeling like I had found my way through the unbeaten wilderness.  Tonight, I was alive in my skin and thriving in my new little fish tank.  I didn¡¯t know how long that feeling would last, so I wanted to just exist in that space for a while little longer.


    By that time, I expected everyone in the club to have left except for Lara, who might let me work the pole for a little if I told her I was practicing a new move.  But I was surprised to see Vic sitting at the bar alone, waiting so he could walk me out and lock up behind us.


    When he saw me, he did a double take and almost choked on the whiskey coke he was finishing.


    ¡°Woah,¡± he sputtered as he set the drink back on the bar and eyed my new look like I was an alien walking out of a UFO.  I¡¯m not sure what it was about me that was so different to him.  Afterall, he¡¯d seen me dance in this get-up before.  And the hair was new, but I had a dozen wigs that were better quality than this one.  Maybe it was something in me, a change he scented like a wolf catching the smell of its pack.  Or maybe I just looked hot that night.  Who the hell knows.


    Vic looked down at the shoes he¡¯d seen Ruby wearing earlier.  ¡°Those are nice,¡± he said.  ¡°You want to¡­¡±


    ¡°Have a drink?¡± I said quickly.  ¡°With you?  Sure.¡±


    I could talk about what happened next if you wanted to hear it, but honestly, it¡¯s an old and boring story.  You already know how we sat there drinking, me smiling, him trying to think of things to say that wouldn¡¯t sound stupid.  We danced around it for an agonizingly long time, both of us nervous but knowing that something inevitable was going to happen that night.  Then, I held his hand as I led him up the stairs and into the VIP lounge.  I turned on my favorite sad and slow Concrete Blonde song, Mexican Moon, and put on a show for him, enjoying the way time was standing so still and yet moving so fast for us all at once.  And of course, there was no touching in VIP.  At least, not until I wanted there to be.  And then there was plenty.


    What surprised me about the whole thing is that he was gentle with me, and sweet.  Honestly, I hadn¡¯t known exactly what to expect, not after everything I¡¯d seen from him and what he¡¯d said to Ruby about her husband.  Had he really put people into Lake Erie before?  Later, as I lay in the afterglow beside him, I tried to picture him doing it.  There he was, standing on the deck of a little boat floating on dark water, cigarette poised between his lips as he tossed something human-shaped off the side and into the sea.  Sure, I guess he might do that, but only to someone who really deserved it.


    But there was a part of me that remembered what I¡¯d seen that night in VIP, the black shadow, the otherworldly eyes of something seeing me from another time and place¡­  By this time, I had all but convinced myself it had been a dream, a hallucination after trauma.  Vic was weird and maybe even a little dangerous if you were on his bad side.  But there was nothing supernatural about that wickedness.  Was there?

 The Rotten Black Curse

    Anyway, that night, he was good to me, and when he gave me a ride home afterwards, I knew it wasn¡¯t out of pity this time.


    So began another mundane story of a girl gone bad while dancing at a shitty east side club and trying to act tough.  That¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking, isn¡¯t it?  Well, you¡¯d mostly be right.  Who knew that the guy selling coke to all the dancers, the one who sometimes accepted alternatives to cash payments, that guy who everyone knew was trouble, was indeed a walking disaster? Yeah.  I guess everyone already figured as much.  And I let Vic¡¯s undertow pull me right in to circle the drain along with him, didn¡¯t I?  But let me tell you, those first few trips around weren¡¯t some of the best times of my short life.


    Vic took me places in the city I¡¯d never even thought existed.  Sometimes we¡¯d go for dinner at a hole in the wall spot without a sign on the door where all the menus were in Russian, but there were pictures, and even though nothing tasted like you thought it would, it was all delicious.  Or maybe instead, we¡¯d get burgers at a drive through and walk along a creek littered with trash and the abandoned remnants of a miniature tent city.  It felt like we were explorers picking our way through the jungle, gawking innocently at the remains of an ancient civilization that once thrived along those banks.  We would stop when we reached the place where the creek spilled into the Lake and find a place to sit and watch the sun setting in a burning pink sky while we ate.  At night, we¡¯d go to dark little concert clubs stuffed with oddballs and burnouts and reeking of cigarettes.  We¡¯d drink until we were stupid and then go to the bathroom, do some lines and maybe grab a quickie inside a dirty stall.  Then, riding high on lust and life and love, I¡¯d stand beside him and listen, swaying softly as beneath the distorted wail of a guitar, the city sang to me and I understood my place in its embrace.


    I¡¯d never once thought I could live like this, that I could feel so much like a child of the earth, but with Vic, there never seemed to be any real consequences.  He knew people in this city, and they knew him.  And even if he didn¡¯t, people didn¡¯t seem eager to fuck with him.  For a while, it was fun to be with someone like that.


    But Vic had other sides to him that started to show through after a while.  Eventually, after he¡¯d disappeared one too many times with little or no explanation, I started to suspect he had a habit he was keeping from me.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    He would go for long stretches of time in the night and slip back into bed wild, awake, and manic like he¡¯d just snorted his weight in pure Columbian.  Depending on how tired I was, I was either annoyed at how persistent he could be or charmingly seduced by it.  Either way, I tolerated it because I was falling in love, and I didn¡¯t know better.  The other nights, the nights when he was low, were the ones I dreaded.


    I would always wake up when he slithered back between the sheets, and I¡¯d look at him in the dark as he stared up with that eerie emptiness at something invisible floating above us.  Sometimes, I¡¯d reach out for him and he¡¯d jump like he hadn¡¯t even known I was there.  He¡¯d turn to me then, and he¡¯d tell me things, horrible things, stories of people, places, and ugly little truths.


    Once, he talked about a woman named Mikayla whose friends called her Miki.  She was a witch, born from a long line of mediums and spiritualists, people with one foot in this world and one in the next, he¡¯d said.  Miki could see things other people couldn¡¯t, discern the patterns, the currents and waves that move us like the workings of a thousand secret gods just beneath the surface.  But then one day, she met a monster wearing a man¡¯s skin.  He took everything from her, her gifts, her future, her power, and he left her with a rotten, black curse inside her.


    Sometimes I didn¡¯t know if the things he said were true or just strange parables, little stories that filled his head like the static between radio stations.  I would ask about them, and he would tell me he saw it in a dream, or he made it up, or something like that.  But when I asked him about this one, he said something different, and I believed him.  He sighed heavily and rolled over.  ¡°I should know all about it, shouldn¡¯t I?¡± he whispered to the night surrounding us.  ¡°Miki was my mom.  And I¡¯m the fucking curse.¡±


    I¡¯d never know what to say to him when he got like that, so I just laid there quiet, listening to the slow and even sound of his breathing until he fell asleep.  And mumbling in a strange tongue, he would whimper and cry until I held him like a child.  He didn¡¯t seem like a curse to me.  At least, not then.


    Vic¡¯s way of dealing with problems always seemed to involve a pharmaceutical approach.  If I said I had a headache, he¡¯d give me a pill.  If I told him I was tired, something to snort.  The day my mom called to tell me she¡¯d seen the new billboard on highway ninety, well, there really wasn¡¯t anything specific he could prescribe for that.  He gave me something to put under my tongue that made me care a little less about the names she¡¯d called me, and then later, a pill to grind up and snort along the edge of the bathtub while I took a long, hot soak to forget.  Love sucks when it has conditions, when there¡¯s rules.  Maybe that¡¯s why I never called Vic out on whatever it was he was doing, until one night when I came home early from my shift at Diamonds and caught him red handed in the bathroom.

 The Rotten Black Curse II

    We¡¯d moved in together after a couple months, but I¡¯d been seeing less and less of him at the club.  He told me his boss had him doing other things.  I tried to ask questions, but he would just go kind of twitchy and change the subject.  I tried not to think about it, but his nightly excursions were becoming more frequent, and the sleep-talking more frantic.  Once, I caught the word ¡°fantoma¡± repeated over and over again, interspersed among his mumbled syllables.  I didn¡¯t need a translator to know what that meant, but I looked it up on my phone anyway and tumbled down an internet rabbit hole full of ghost stories poorly translated from Romanian.  In each one of them, there was a current of muted sadness running just beneath the text that was almost too subtle to put into words.


    In one, there was a woman who fell in love with a man and gave up everything to be with him, only to have her head taken the night before her wedding by her furious father.  Her lover, already dead by his own hand, watched as they burned her, patiently waiting his turn for his own body to be thrown on the pyre so he could finally join her.  In another, a man, a woman, and their young daughter waited out the winter in their mountain hovel, subsisting on meager rations until one night a traveler came to their door seeking shelter.  Without telling their little girl of their plans, the couple offered the stranger a bed but plotted in secret to kill him and boil his flesh so that they might survive a few weeks longer.  But they didn¡¯t know that this man was not a man but a strigoi, an undead creature roaming the countryside in search of flesh and blood it might consume.  In the end, the couple begged the Strigoi to take their lives and spare their daughter, but just like them, it had grown too hungry to be reasoned with.  There were pictures to go with that one, and I couldn¡¯t get them out of my head for hours.


    Suddenly that dead-eyed expression of Vic¡¯s didn¡¯t seem so vacant to me anymore.  There is ugliness in this world that numbs us and drain away the warm blood that used to flow so freely when we were young.  I remembered what it felt like to see my twin brother, the soul I had come into the world with, lying on the carpet, incoherent and drooling with a needle still stuck in his arm.  I hadn¡¯t been the same since then, but it didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t hurt for him.  It just felt different now, farther away than before.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    The night I found Vic like that, I¡¯d been tired.  Not the kind of tired where you just need a good night¡¯s sleep, but deeply tired.  The kind you feel in your bones.  I thought it was weird that the light was on in the bathroom, and since he told me he¡¯d be out all night, I figured I must have left it on by mistake.  But when I opened the door, I felt it catch against something heavy on the other side.  I peered through the crack and saw him lying there, staring up at the ceiling like he sometimes did in bed.  On the grimy floor beside him were the discarded leavings of his sin, the remnants he would sweep away once the euphoric low had faded so that we could both just look the other way and pretend for one more night.


    But once I¡¯d seen it, it was hard to go on pretending.  Vic had a habit.  A serious habit.  What the fuck could I do except the same shit I¡¯d done for Jeremy three years ago.


    He tried to fight me as I shoved him into the tub and turned on the cold shower water, all the while cursing at me in that strange language of his.  But I kept talking to him, slapping his face lightly when he would start to drift away from me.  Then, somewhere in the middle of it all, he sat straight up and stared with an unholy fury, as if he were possessed by the devil himself, at something in the hallway just beyond the bathroom threshold.


    ¡°Get. Out,¡± he said to the thing I couldn¡¯t see.  ¡°Leave us alone!¡±


    I jumped when he screamed those words, falling backwards against the cold tile.  ¡°Vic!¡± I said through tears I hadn¡¯t felt against my cheeks until now.  ¡°There¡¯s no one there, baby!  There¡¯s no one here but us!¡±


    I watched as the look of burning hot rage faded from his face, and he settled back against the tiled wall of the shower.  ¡°Sorry,¡± he said softly, the sound of his voice muffled by the noise of the water falling over him like rain.  ¡°I thought I saw¡­  Never mind.¡±

 Fading

    That night, we didn¡¯t talk about it.  We just fell into bed holding each other, all of our emotions drained away and spent.  The next day, I didn¡¯t want to look at him, so I went out for a walk by that creek where all the vagabonds make their home at night.  I walked for a long time until I wasn¡¯t thinking about much but the bitter cold and my pounding headache.  Somewhere along the path, I stopped and took one of the round white pills Vic had given me.  But it didn¡¯t seem to do much.  I kept walking, ignoring the sight of gray hair spilling out from underneath heavy blankets piled atop a rotting mattress on the far side of the creek.  This place was sad without Vic, wasn¡¯t it?


    When I got back to the car, I saw that I had missed a call from my mom.  Shit.  My head still felt scrambled.  The stubborn dull ache would not go away.  She left a message, but I didn¡¯t feel up to listening to it just yet.


    Vic was waiting for me when I got home with a fresh pot of coffee, flowers, and paczkis from the Polish bakery on the street below.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said to me as he handed me the flowers.  They were purple, orange, and white, all colors that reminded me of autumn.  ¡°I didn¡¯t want you to ever see that.  Sometimes, I have to do stuff, and¡­  I need help forgetting.¡±


    I set the flowers on the table and took a seat with my coffee.  Vic sat across from me and stared down into his mug.


    ¡°You ever think about quitting?¡± I asked without looking up at him.


    ¡°Yeah.  Sometimes.  I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Not that easy,¡± he said.  ¡°My life is fucked, Andi.  It¡¯s been fucked for a long time.¡±


    ¡°So unfuck it,¡± I said.  ¡°How long has it been since you even tried?¡±


    ¡°Right.  Yeah.  Listen.  There¡¯s a lot of shit.  Shit I don¡¯t tell you.  About me, and um...  I don¡¯t really want to tell you.  It¡¯s just¡­  You ever watch an egg frying in a pan, Andi?¡±


    ¡°Jesus, yeah,¡± I said impatiently.  ¡°You can¡¯t unfry it.  That what you¡¯re trying to say?  Your life is just one big entropic disaster or something?¡±


    ¡°No, not my life,¡± said Vic.  ¡°Me.  I¡¯m the egg.  Everything in my head is¡­ tangled.  Fucked.  But things don¡¯t feel like that when I¡¯m around you.  I want to keep it like that.  I want to keep things¡­ nice.¡±


    I shook my head as hot tears started to spill down my face again.  ¡°There¡¯s other ways.  There¡¯s got to be other ways.¡±


    ¡°You tell me when you find one, Andi,¡± he said, and he looked down at a message alert flashing on his phone screen.  ¡°I got to go.  I got a-¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°A thing?¡± I said, not bothering to hide my anger at the expense of our tenuously brokered peace.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Vic stood up and walked out of the apartment without finishing his coffee or touching the paczkis.  I was starting to feel stupid, like I¡¯d fallen for the oldest trick in the book.  There wasn¡¯t anything glamorous or cool about this life I¡¯d found myself in.  This was scraping the bottom, fishing for scraps and barely making it in the cold, bleak wilderness.  I realized then what I should have known all along but was just too stubborn to let myself understand.  Everyone off that path I used to be on wanted the things that I had: a family, a future, a plan.  And maybe Vic was a fried egg in a pan now, his life all tangled up in knots with the many vices and compromises he¡¯d made along the way, but I could still see the way back.  Maybe it wasn¡¯t too late for me.


    I thought about calling my mom, and then I remembered the voicemail I¡¯d been too preoccupied to check before.  I took my coffee over to the couch as I let the message play, still certain that in just a day or so, I¡¯d be back at home and have this whole thing sorted.  And who knows.  Maybe Vic would head to rehab and get a job.  Maybe in a month or so, we¡¯d reconnect and work it out.  Maybe, but first I needed to find my own way.  One step at a time.


    The first time I listened to the message, I felt the words rather than heard them.  My mom¡¯s voice sounded alien to me, as if the strong woman who had put herself through nursing school while raising twins had been replaced by a wailing and hysterical stranger.  She told me that Jeremy was gone, that they¡¯d called an ambulance when they found him, but it was too late.  She said I needed to come home now and help them.  Help them put my twin in the ground.  Her voice broke off after that, and she sobbed a little into the receiver before the message ended.  When it was over, I stared down at the phone and then at the coffee spilling out from the fragments of the broken mug I¡¯d dropped on the floor.


    Later, when Vic came home, he¡¯d find me sitting in the bathtub, clothed and dry with a bloody gash on my leg where the cracked ceramic had sliced into me.  I hadn¡¯t even felt it, but I¡¯d somehow managed to track the blood all across the apartment, he¡¯d tell me.  But then he¡¯d look at my face and go quiet.


    ¡°Do you know what it¡¯s like to lose half your soul?¡± I¡¯d ask him later as I settled into a velvet soft low beside him on the sofa that night.


    ¡°No,¡± he¡¯d tell me as he cut another line for me. ¡°Maybe.  Tell me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like dying.  Only I¡¯m still alive.  I think I must be someone else now.  I think I¡¯m new.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like a good thing,¡± he¡¯d say.


    I¡¯d shake my head no.  ¡°It¡¯s not good,¡± I¡¯d say.  ¡°It¡¯s just a thing.¡±


    Everything happens for a reason.  That¡¯s what my mom used to say.  As I stand here and watch them lower you down, down, deep into the ground, I know the girl I used to be is going with you, and I get the feeling that this one out here still walking around won¡¯t be far behind her.  But that¡¯s pessimistic, isn¡¯t it?  Maybe she¡¯ll find her way back one day.  Maybe if someone leaves a light on for her.  But Jeremy was my light, I think, and I could have been his.  Now, with every passing day I just feel more and more like a ghost.  A fantoma.  There is no reason for anything, is there?  Just entropy.


    Vic is waiting for me in the car with the heater on full blast even though he likes it cold.  When the service is over, I¡¯ll get in the passenger seat, and I¡¯ll let my chauffeur carry me away.