stella and her waiting (1)

“You’re on in 2 minutes,” says Bookie. He was red from running around all night trying to get us girls to stick to our cues. I tighten my bra straps, take one last hit of my joint and get a move on.

I hear the usual post-dinner crowd, mostly middle-aged men unwinding after work. I was used to their stares, their beady eyes undressing you even before your number starts. There’s momentary feedback as Bookie turns on his mic, rendering the whole nightclub deaf. In his deep baritone, he calls me onto the stage.

Stella, his voice lingers on the final vowel, commanding but gentle. The stage name was his idea. He said my real name was too plain, too easy to pass by. The lights begin to dim as I hear the first few bars of my song.

I walk to the center of the stage, my back turned to the waiting men. My song’s intro is long so it gives me time to vacillate—nay, marinate—onstage. I walk slowly, my clunky heels tapping hollow beats on the floor. I contort, exaggerating my features and minimizing my gut. I move my hips to the beat and raise a leg to tease my audience. Like clockwork, I remind myself. I close my eyes, try to block the hooting men out as the woman in the record starts to sing.

Tonight we stand by the door
Waiting for amends.
I’ve lived all this time
For love.

“Who’s Bryan?” he asked. For a second, it felt like he'd just emptied an ice bucket on my naked body.

“No one,” I quickly dismissed. It was the sound of his name, the intricate consonant blend, the way the B and the R just seemed to roll off so naturally for him. It threw me off so quickly that my head felt like I’d put it on backwards.

“He must’ve been somebody. Somebody important.” He ran his finger across my thigh, resting to feel the ink on my skin. “Enough for you to put his name on your hip and all.”

“He was,” I lied, gritting my teeth. He can touch my skin, my hair, my sex, my thighs, but he can never touch my heart.

If you had told me two years ago that I’d somehow end up dancing in a seedy club like this, I’d have slapped you. But such is my life now and though I wish otherwise, there seems to be no turning back. I walk back to the center of the stage, let my hand briefly graze the metal pole. A man whistles for me to come over. In his hand, I see a crisp purple bill. His friends egg him on, their cervezas red and raging on their foreign faces. Like a cat, I crawl to him on all fours. He tucks the bill into my garter, his fingers resting briefly on the copper cufflink I keep there. I slap his hand away.

Tonight you come with no suit
And no suitcase in your hand.
I couldn’t wait until the day is done.

I inhale deeply, let the woman’s saccharine voice fill my head as I slowly let my left strap dangle to my arm. It takes a bit of practice to unhook your bra onstage, without it seeming common or everyday. For years, I knew to do it privately, hurriedly, with no concept of an audience watching my every move. I move my shoulders in tentative circles, the straps coming loose with each turn. As the drummer pounds on, the song moves to the chorus. I let my top drop to the floor.

I never thought that I would be the one
Who could deal with so much waiting.
I never count but look at me now.
I see the time I should be saving.

“He must’ve been somebody. Somebody important.” He said as his fingers ran across my skin.

“He was,” I lied, gritting my teeth. More than anything in the world, I wished for the freedom to say he is.

♫: Up Dharma Down | Parks (2012)
Photo: WCTI12

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Establishing Shots. I fell in love with this song a few weeks back and the more I listened to it raped the replay button, the more I could feel this story brewing in my head. I finally started writing it last night and when I realized the word count was slowly building up, I figured I’d chop it up into a few parts. Next installment is in two weeks as I have a pretty interesting collaboration with a mystery blogger planed for next week. Stay tuned! He’s someone I have never collaborated with despite people saying we’re fairly alike and I have a feeling it’s gonna be really good.

• Stella and Her Waiting
• Running
• Next to Me
• Shadowplay