"No prob. I was just hoping you could come over tonight. There's noise on the tracks during the chase scene."
"Really? That sucks. We nailed that scene." Griff's a voice actor. Or, at least, he's a struggling part-time voice actor, although he's starting to get more work as his reputation grows. But my brother's also scrappy, and so he's written and is producing his own podcast. Kind of a modern day Beauty and the Beast meets The Count of Monte Cristo. I've read all the scripts, and it's brilliant.
He hasn't aired any of the episodes yet; he wants to have the entire season finished before he puts it out. He says it's so that he won't lose steam if it sucks and gets no subscribers. I say it's smart because he's going to be doing so many media interviews and fielding so many job offers that he won't have as much time to spend in the studio.
His cast is made up primarily of other voice actors he's met over the years, but he really wants me involved. So he's given me a bit part in every episode. In the one he's talking about, I'm a homeless girl with three scenes. I'm not an actress, but I can't deny it's fun, and I love the idea of having been a part of something I'm sure is going to put my brother on the map.
"We'll nail it again," he says cheerfully, because nothing ever gets Griffin down. Well, almost nothing. "But I want to get it redone now so I can edit it tomorrow night after that cocktail party. You're still going with me, right?"
"Honestly, I should bail. You ought to take a date."
He sighs, then repeats. "You're still going with me, right?"
I roll my eyes and mimic his sigh. "Of course. Do you honestly think I'd miss a party where there's free food and alcohol? I'm totally there."
I'm joking, of course. Well, mostly. The salary of a kindergarten teacher is not a shiny treasure chest of gold, and that's even when you throw in the extra money I earn teaching dance during the summer. Which means I pinch pennies as a matter of course. Only now that I'm saving for Griffin's treatment, I've been pinching them so hard the little copper devils are practically disintegrating between my fingers.
"Anyway, I can't come tonight," I continue. "I'm tied up for a while. But I'll come over tomorrow after I teach my Zumba class. I'll just change at your place and we can leave for the party after we redo the recording."
"Sounds good."
"Great. I'll be there. Unless you decide to take a date in the meantime."
"Give it a rest, Kels."
I know I should shut up, but my brother is awesome, and if he'd just put himself out there more, I know he'd find someone. "There are a couple of girls taking my Wednesday Barre class who I think you'd really like."
He mutters something I can't make out, which is probably a good thing. "Tell you what, when you come over, you can give me a list of all the dancers you think are perfect for me, and then I'll tell you the reason why they're not. There's just the one reason, Kels. And we both know what it is."
I grimace, knowing I'm poking his one sore spot, but I can't seem to help it. "Griff-"
"Don't even start."
I want to argue, but the intro music starts up, meaning the break is almost over. "Fine. As a matter of fact, you're in luck, because I can't. I have to go. I'm trying-"
I cut myself off, realizing this really isn't the time to get into it.
"What?"
"Nothing. I really have to run. But I'll see you tomorrow."
"Is that music? What? Are you auditioning? Is it for a show? At this hour?"
"No, it's a-doesn't matter. I have to go. Seriously, they're calling for me."
"Right, right. Tell me about it tomorrow. And break a leg, okay?"
I'm grinning as I hang up. Griffin has always encouraged my dancing, telling me I need to audition more and get out of the teaching grind and into performing. Somehow, though, I don't think this is what he had in mind.
I draw a deep breath and step up to the curtain as the emcee announces me. The pounding beat of Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me" fills the club. The music swells inside me, and I travel across the floor in time with the beat, then leap onto the pole, hooking one leg around it and holding on loosely so that I spin around, my back arched and my breasts high.
It's a move designed to grab attention, and from the rising applause, I know that it worked. I hold the pose for a moment, then rise back up until my breasts rub the pole and my feet are firmly on the stage. I plié down, the pole rubbing between my legs as I add in a few sensual gyrations for good measure.
The men applaud, and I can only assume that they're imagining me doing that very move with them. But it's not anonymous men I care about. It's not even their vote or the money they might put in a canister for me to win.