In The Devil's keeping

The nights were blending together. Darkness felt like the only thing that had ever existed, and I was just some moving part inside it-dancing, smiling, pretending. Sometimes I wondered if I'd always been here, in the stale perfume haze of Club Paradise, glitter stuck to my thighs and judgment in the eyes of men who bought me with pocket change and promises they never kept.

Andrea said it'd get easier. Said once I stopped trying to find a way out, I'd finally be free. I wasn't sure what kind of freedom she meant-maybe the kind that came with numbness, the kind that made you untouchable because there was nothing left to ruin.

My dressing room was a broken mirror and a ripped curtain away from collapsing. The girls fought over chairs like starving dogs. Powder floated in the air like fairy dust on crack. Lips moved constantly-trash talk, secrets, deals, and prayers.

I avoided most of them.

Except Andrea.

She didn't ask why I was always too quiet or why I flinched when someone raised their voice. She just handed me foundation when I ran out and zipped up my corset when my fingers shook too hard to do it myself.

"You're learning, baby," she said one night, smearing red across my lips. "You don't cry on the floor. Cry later in the shower. Then come back and do it again."

I nodded.

That night, I wore the silver wig.

Andrea said it gave me mystery. Said I looked like a ghost someone would want to haunt them. I didn't tell her how right she was-how I already felt dead and how the wig only made it easier to float.

I danced for a man who smelled like coins. His breath was hot and wet when he spoke-every word like a price tag.

"You got eyes like a cat," he said, touching the edge of my hip with one thick finger. "Bet you land on your feet, even if you fall from high."

He tipped well. I let him think he was special.

When he left, Andrea found me backstage, peeling glitter from my chest.

"Word of advice," she said, lighting a cigarette. "Don't let the regulars fall in love. And don't fall for them either."

"I'm not stupid."

"Didn't say you were. Just said you're new."

We stood in silence for a bit, the throb of bass vibrating through the walls. Someone screamed in the back-either from pleasure or pain - it was hard to tell anymore. One of the bouncers dragged out a drunk girl by her hair. Nobody flinched.

Andrea blew smoke toward the ceiling. "They don't tell you about this part when they recruit you. They say you'll make fast money. Look pretty. Get worshipped. But it's a lie."

I waited.

"They don't tell you what happens when you're no longer new. When you age out. When your face loses its freshness. They don't tell you what it costs to stay desirable."

I didn't ask what she meant. I already knew. I saw it in the older girls-the ones with stitched lips and glassy eyes. Some of them stayed too long. Some of them vanished.

It was after midnight when Dante summoned me.

He didn't knock. Just stood in the hallway, arms crossed like a god of ruined things.

"Estelle. Office. Now."

Andrea gave me a quick look-a flash of something I couldn't place. Worry? Pity?

I followed him past the VIP room, past the girls grinding in dim corners, past the screaming bathrooms. The club's heartbeat thumped against my ears, fast and loud. It reminded me of running. Of being chased.

Dante's office was cold and smelled like whiskey and fake leather. He sat behind the desk like a king pretending to be bored.

He poured himself a drink. Didn't offer me one.

"You've been doing well," he said, sipping slow. "Clients ask for the girl with the silver wig. You're building a brand. That's good."

I said nothing.

He smiled. It never reached his eyes. "But you've got competition."

He opened a drawer and pulled out a photo. Threw it across the desk.

"This is Luana. She's new. Came from Brazil. Speaks little English, but she can dance. Real natural."

I looked at the photo. A girl with deep brown eyes and a tiger tattoo on her thigh. She looked hungry. Not for food for survival.

"She'll be your floor partner tomorrow," Dante said. "Learn to work together. Or don't. Just make me money."

I nodded and left.

Andrea was waiting by my locker.

"So, he gave you Luana," she said, chewing gum. "Figures. She's hot, dumb, and desperate. Perfect combination."

"Do I need to be worried?"

"No. Just don't let her outshine you. Smile more. Laugh at their jokes. Touch their knees. That's what gets them paying."

"I don't want to touch anyone."

Andrea snorted. "Then you're in the wrong place, baby."

The next night, Luana danced like fire. She had no rhythm, but the men didn't care. She laughed loudly, moaned when they touched her, and slid between legs like she was born for it. She was chaos wrapped in perfume.

I hated how she made it look easy.

She came to me during break, sweat shining on her chest.

"You Estelle?" she asked, voice thick with accent.

"Yeah."

"You look sad. Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Fine."

She tilted her head. "No one here is fine."

Then she walked away.

Later, in the locker room, I caught her crying.

She had her head pressed to the wall, shoulders shaking. I didn't say anything, just walked past her. I didn't want to know her story. Didn't want to carry more pain than I already had.

But I thought about her on stage. About how she danced like someone trying to forget they had a soul.

Maybe we weren't so different.

That night, as I walked home, my heels clicking against the wet pavement, I felt it again-that tight, invisible cord pulling at my chest. I was changing. Hardening.

Every night took something from me and replaced it with steel.

But even steel rusts.

When I got home, I scrubbed my skin raw. The hot water stung, but it made me feel real. I looked in the mirror and saw someone else. The silver wig lay on the sink, wet and tangled.

I picked it up.

Put it on.

Stared.

Who was I becoming?

Someone who could lie with a smile. Someone who could strip with grace and silence. Someone who knew how to take pain and turn it into profit.

I looked into my own eyes and whispered, "Don't fall apart. Not yet."

Because I knew something was coming. Something worse than what I'd already seen.

And I needed to be ready.