The Space In Between

Chapter Nineteen

FREAKING A, I missed him. Why hadn’t he called or texted? It’d been weeks since we last talked. Did he find Order before me? I felt so stupid for even thinking on the matter. Maybe I’d scared him off with my breakdown about Derrick. I wouldn’t have been surprised. If I were him, I would have run too. I wish there was an un-send button for text messages, but there it was—my needy text sitting in his inbox.
Focus on something else. I needed a distraction. Dance.
It had been a few weeks since I had my first dance on the stage. The first night was terrible, the second night was embarrassing, and the sixth night was a bit better. Roger must have been pleased with my performances, because he was getting closer and closer to offering me the closing number. “We’ll see,” he would say whenever I’d ask. I wanted a shot at it. Jasmine told me there wasn’t a chance in hell she would give up her spot, but everyone knew I was better than her. My degree in dance was really paying off. Thank you, college education.
When I walked onto the stage each night, it was as if I were in a trance. I tried not to think about it too much because it was all too depressing. So I danced. I moved my body. And I blocked out my thoughts. In a way it was somewhat a form of art. And moving my body in a way to create art was all right, in some twisted way.
The crowd that night seemed extra intense. There were loud rackets of noise traveling from the club to the dressing rooms. Bachelor parties, probably. I hated bachelor parties the most because the stupid bachelors always forgot that they were getting married in the freaking morning. So much disrespectful grabbing. I stopped applying my makeup when Ladasha walked over to me and leaped onto my makeup table.
“I’ve been thinking. Maybe I’ll go back to school.”
“You should.”
Ladasha smiled, nodding with confidence. “I should. I always wanted to be a lawyer. Or a doctor. Or hell, a f*ckin' English teacher. If it's the number two you spell it T-W-O. If it's like, 'I'm gonna have sex with him and him, too" it's T-O-O. That's my type of English lesson. I might even be the first black female president. Wouldn't that be political gold? The president's an ex-stripper.” She grabbed her breasts and smiled widely. “Vote for Ladasha! I’ll watch a few political movies for tips. It can’t be that hard, right?”
She was slipping into her dark thoughts. I could tell when it happened because she always tried so hard to cover her sadness with goofiness. I knew better. Ladasha laughed lightly as she went back to applying her makeup, but I saw the slight glimpse of disappointment slip through her eyes.
“You can do it,” I assured her. Ladasha could do anything if she didn’t find the need to always run after awhile. I was really hoping she wasn’t feeling the need to run any time soon.
Just then, two other strippers, Maria and Shelly, walked into the room and took their seats, doing what they do best—gossiping. Maria shook her head in disbelief. “Can you believe that?”
“Hell yeah I can believe it,” Shelly chuckled, picking up a pink, glittery wig to go with her pink, tacky thong.
“What happened?” Ladasha asked.
“Jasmine got caught doing an escort job. Cops picked her up.” Shelly paused for a brief moment to roll her eyes, and then continued to speak. “She's so stupid. That's why I don't mess with that shit. I may take my clothes off, but I ain’t licking, kissing, or sucking nothing.”
Maria nodded in agreement, pulling on her fishnet stockings, which would be ‘viciously’ ripped off in about twenty minutes. “Now her kid's in the system. That kid ain't got a chance at a life with a prostitute mom and a locked-up dad.”
Ladasha quickly turned to defend the poor kid’s life. “You don’t know what the kid can make of himself. Give him a chance.” Her whole being shifted and she was to the point where humor wouldn’t fix her emotions.
“The only chance that kid got at a life is selling crack on the corner to the other messed up brats.”
Ladasha’s eyes couldn’t hide the self-pity pouring out. I quickly reached across to her and squeezed her hand, delivering a shot of comfort. Locking eyes with her, I sent her a simple nod, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. It was the same reminder she gave me when I first showed up to New York—no words, just a look of understanding. Her halfway smile and one-shoulder shrug was all I got before she went back to her makeup. Turning to the other girls, I asked the next question on my mind. “So who’s doing the closing number tonight?” Jasmine always got the closing number. She and Roger had a ‘close’ employer/employee relationship. I called her a slut, Ladasha called her a businesswoman.
Shelly smiled through her mirror in my direction. “You’re gonna want to add a lil more blush tonight, Wisconsin.”
Suddenly, Roger came barging into the dressing room, causing some of the girls to squeak in horror and throw things in his direction. He rolled his eyes, uninterested. “I aint gonna see nothin’ that everyone else in the club hasn’t already seen.” His eyes shifted to me. I hated when he looked at me. Roger was a creep, but then again, I was a stripper. I guess I kind of had it coming. I watched him chewing on the end of his short cigar, puffing rings of smoke into the air. His hairy face matched his hairy chest that was semi-hidden under his one-size-too-small black tank top. Too bad it wasn’t completely hidden. Disgusting.
“Andrea, you got a person in a VIP room requesting you.” He turned to leave as I shot up from my seat.
“Wait! Is it true I have the finale tonight?”
“If you keep bringing in people who pay hundreds for fifteen minutes with you in the VIP rooms, you can have anything you damn want.” Roger’s eyes sparkled like he’d won the lottery as he dragged his feet out of the room.
“Who the hell is requesting you for a lap dance?” Maria asked.
Ladasha smiled brightly—a genuine smile. She was coming back around to her normal, cheerful self. “Cooper Davidson.”
My eyes lit up at the idea of Coop being in the other room. Just hearing his name from my best friend’s lips made me want to go deliver the best lap dance ever. “Well, who the hell is Cooper Davidson?” Shelly hissed as she overdosed on hairspray.





“HE’S MY HUSBAND and you’re sleeping with him!” she hollered at me. My heart was in my throat and it seemed like all of the air had been sucked from the filthy VIP room. Sweat started spewing from my forehead as my knees began to shake. I opened my mouth to speak yet nothing came out. So she continued to talk. Something about me being a home-wrecking, smutty, vomit-worthy slut.
My eyes shifted to her stomach. Oh god…Cooper didn’t tell me she was pregnant.
Wait.
Cooper didn’t tell me anything about Iris. “I don’t know what to say.”
She laughed in a mocking tone. “Don’t say a word. Just stay the hell away from my husband.” I turned to leave and she glided herself in front of the door, blocking me in. “Seriously. I can ruin your pathetic life in an instant. You understand me? In. An. Instant. I can take whatever you have and destroy it. Don’t test me.”
“Go to hell!” I yelled. I hated her. I didn’t have much knowledge of who she was, but what I’d discovered in the last five minutes was that she seriously lacked people skills. And I also hated that she was so damn gorgeous. More beautiful than anyone I’d ever seen. Her face was flawless, her stance was ballerina worthy. For a moment I paused to think why Cooper would come to me when he had her waiting for him at home.
Oh my god. I was a slut. A home-wrecking, smutty, vomit-worthy slut.
“Is there a problem?” Frank opened the door when he heard me holler, and his eyes narrowed in on me, checking if I was all right.
“Yes, there actually is a problem.” Iris stood up tall in her high heels and held her Michael Kors purse close to her chest. “I want her fired.”
My eyes bugged out as I looked at the crazy psycho. I searched for a glimpse of sarcasm, but it wasn’t there. Whatever. There was no way I would be fired because of this woman. Roger just told me I was a money maker. Dollar bills flashed in his eyes back in the dressing room. It wouldn’t be good business to get rid of me. Before I knew it, I was having a yelling contest with Iris as Frank tried to control the noise. But he should’ve known, once women attack each other, it’s pretty much useless to do anything about it.
“What the hell is going on?!” Roger screamed, storming into the heated fight, panting. He was out of breath from the short jog over to the VIP room.
Iris crossed her arms and looked to him. “Are you the owner of this place?” she asked.
He was. She continued. “I want her fired.” She pointed at me as Ladasha walked up behind Roger to see what all the commotion was about.
Roger arched an eyebrow at Iris as if she were crazy. “There’s no way in hell I’m firing my best employee. I’m sorry you two had a dilemma, but let me get you another girl…” He put on his charm to try to get Iris to calm down. I knew Roger wouldn’t get rid of me. He may have been an a*shole, but he wasn’t a heartless a*shole.
“I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars,” Iris insisted.
Oh no. This time Roger raised both eyebrows. Ladasha’s mouth dropped as she jumped into the conversation. “Roger I swear if you get rid of Andrea, I will walk out with her.” He lowered the brows. He couldn’t lose us both. I could have kissed Ladasha for standing up for me the way she did.
“Twenty-five thousand to fire both,” Iris sang.
She must have sung the right tune because the next thing I knew, Ladasha and I were walking home, jobless, boxes filled with bras and costumes, with no form of income to support us.
“So, we have a few choices for tonight,” Ladasha said as we walked in the snow to our apartment. “We can track down Cooper and kick his ass, we can go cry in a corner and realize we won’t have a place to live soon, or…we can watch Pretty Woman and get wasted.”
I smirked at Ladasha. Her whole life was about taking it one step at a time, never knowing where she would be the next day. I somewhat envied that. So the idea of finding a new place to live didn’t come off as a life or death situation to her. At least she didn’t show it as one. I linked my arm with hers, we walked in our ridiculous heels and rested my head on her shoulder.
Although the idea of kicking Cooper’s ass did sound promising, I secretly knew if I were to see him again, a part of me would want to melt into his arms. And by this point, crying seemed to be useless. I’d cried so much these past few months that I wasn’t certain I even knew what the point of it was anymore.
So that made the choice quite easy. We were getting wasted and watching the hell out of Pretty Woman.





WALKING TO OUR apartment, there appeared to be a strange man sleeping next to a suitcase. Ladasha’s eyes shifted towards me. “Do you…?”
I shrugged. I couldn’t tell who it was, so we approached with caution. The man’s head was resting in his lap as Ladasha got closer and poked him with her heel. My heart got stuck in my throat, noticing the old, scuffed up brown shoes…I knew who it was.
“Hey, freak. This isn’t a homeless shelter. Get the hell out of here before we call the cops, assho—” Ladasha’s voice trailed off as she stared into eyes that were now slowly waking up.
Oh no. “What are you doing here?” I asked, watching him stand.
“Well, after going to the diners that didn’t have any clue who the hell you were, and calling your cell phone one hundred times, I tracked down your apartment. And I’ve been waiting here since six in the afternoon to find you. And clearly now it’s…” He brought his watch to his eyes and looked back to me. “It’s two in the morning.”
I choked back my words, shaking my head, “No. What are you doing in New York?”
“Looking for you, Anders! Mom is freaking out! You didn’t come for Thanksgiving, she said you weren’t coming for Christmas, and we haven’t heard from you in weeks!” My older brother Eric was here, in New York City, in front of my apartment. And I was holding a box with bras, whips, and chains. This had the possibility of getting extremely awkward.
His eyes landed on the box, they traveled to my fake nails, heavy makeup, and then they shifted back to the box. “What the hell is going on, Andrea?!”