Kate was wary of a couple of the dancers. She was wary of Brandy. She was nice to her because she gave her crystal here and there. Kate and Marisa preferred coke but would take crystal when coke wasn’t around. Brandy was intense. She was young and cute, but there was an edge to her, like she was moments away from snapping. She was hyper. She was sweaty. If she would take another shower, reapply her make-up, and calm down a little, she’d be a whole hell of a lot sexier, Kate would think. Brandy did well with tips because she was athletic and could do all kinds of tricks and spins with the pole.
The look in Brandy’s eyes scared Kate. Empty and desperate. Brandy would openly stare at other dancers, the Amazons. You could just tell that she was jealous. Or something. It made Kate wonder what was going through Brandy’s head.
Kate was adamant that she not become like Brandy. Kate knew that she was no saint. She took any drug that came her way, but she still felt like she had things in control. She felt like she didn’t look like she did any drug that came her way. But, Brandy made Kate wonder. What kind of line was there to be crossed? How many more drugs before I look like her? How many more months in this place? Then Kate would reassure herself. I do not look like Brandy. I will not look like Brandy. Everything is fine.
Marisa liked to tell herself the same thing.
Marisa, who could not be found sometimes, and then would show up. I’m fine! I’m fucking fine. Let’s do this.
Marisa would saunter off in heels that looked as if the point could cut glass, and she would kill it. She would get on stage and move like the world was in her hands. Like she could squeeze the money from any sucker off the street. Then, darkly, through her hair, she would look around a room full of desire and need, and all she could see was darkness.
If you'd like to read more on Kate and Marisa:
Who Do You Think You Are?