Chapter 4
“Here comes Trouble,” the announcer spoke above the catcalls of the men in the room, their avid eyes searching the curtain for Vida’s appearance. She felt her stomach clench as she moved from the cover of the curtain into the lights focused on the stage.
The sequins on her outfit caught the lights and reflected the flashes of light throughout the room, drawing even more attention to her figure. Vida swallowed down the bile rising in her throat, forcing herself to blank the present from her mind. Pasting an imaginary picture of Sawyer across her mind, Vida began to dance seductively on the stage. How her mother could have done this for years defied Vida’s imagination.
Deep sadness engulfed her. She knew how, the love a mother had for her child. Vida knew her mother had become pregnant at fifteen and ran away from home to live with her seventeen-year-old boyfriend. Her father had stayed until she was six months old then took off, returning to his own parents’ loving arms. He left Goldie behind; however, her mother’s parents were not as understanding and no longer wanted to have anything to do with her or their grandchild.
Goldie, despite being so young, was smart enough to manage to get child support, but it was barely enough to keep a cheap roof over their heads and not enough for much else. Uneducated with a small child, it took time for Goldie to get her GED and once she had finally earned it, not many more jobs opened up than before. She would manage to get waitressing or bar positions, but they paid little and barely covered the bills.
Vida hadn’t been a healthy child. The low-income housing building was filthy and damp, setting off allergies. In addition, she had a genetic gastric problem that required her to have several surgeries, which forced her mother to miss work. Fired from another job, Goldie had turned to stripping. She could still remember the nights her mom would have a good night and wake her up when she came home.
They would go to the grocery store late at night and fill the cart with groceries that they both knew would have to last a while. The cute cereals and confections that other kids took for granted were passed over for bread and peanut butter. Vida remembered well the days where that was all she had to eat and was aware that she didn’t eat much better as a college student.
The change in music alerted Vida to the next set where she would start to remove her red camisole. Teasingly unfastening each button slowly, she moved closer to pervert row before backing away, giving them the subliminal promise that she would soon be theirs if they could merely catch her long enough. When all the buttons where undone, the music rose, building to the climax of her removing her top.
Thankfully, the music that started her next set was slower, allowing her to catch her breath. Moving towards the men, she allowed them to stuff their money into the string that circled her waist. Their fingers lingering as long as they thought was possible before one of King’s men would make an appearance. It lasted several minutes, the music spaced out to give her time to work from one side of the stage to the other before she moved back to the center stage, reaching down to pick up her top, giving the men one last look at her shaking ass.
Vida walked slowly off the stage to the dwindling music and loud applause.
“Damn girl, you keep that up and King will set you up as a feature dancer in his other clubs,” Sherri remarked, waiting for her own music to start.
“You look great tonight, is that a new outfit?” Vida ignored the comment about her working at other clubs.
Sherri brushed her hand against the leather chaps she wore and grinned. “Yep, I plan to make them have to run to the bathroom to jerk off.”
Vida simply shook her head, laughing. Sherri was one of the few women who actually stripped because she loved the attention. It made her feel like a star for the short time she was on stage. She was a sweet, likeable woman that had taken the time to actually try to get to know her and Vida couldn’t help responding to her natural friendliness.
“Is King out front?” Vida asked.
“I think so. I saw him there a few minutes ago.”
Sherri’s music queued. “Don’t break a leg,” Vida warned her when she saw her outrageously high-heeled cowboy boots.
Sherri grinned at her as she moved toward the stage.
Vida went to the dressing room and put on her robe. She brushed her hair back down until it lay flat; her dancing had turned it into a tangled mess. The other women in the room ignored her, busy getting ready for their own sets.
Vida went in search of King, finding him sitting in his booth watching a customer give the shot girl a hard time. His facial expression did not change as he saw Vida approach.
“King, may I talk with you?”