Page 13 of For Your Eyes Only
“Yes, but it wasn’t so focused on myassetsbefore.”
“How do you know? God gave you those assets. So you make a little money off ‘em. So what?”
“I’m not sure that’s what God had in mind.” I scoop up a hoodie and pull it over the brown tank top that barely covers my boobs, then I shove an oversized pair of sunglasses over my eyes.
“How do you know? Maybe this is your blessing.” She hesitates at the door. “Ready?”
Taking a deep breath, I nod, and we crash through the back door, walking quickly to the SUV that will take us to the condo.
A small crowd of people, mostly men, are waiting right outside the door taking photos and trying to capture my identity. My hood is on, and I lift the sides of my jacket over my face, ducking my head before diving into the Denali. Bianca is right behind me, slamming the door on the shouting crowd.
It’s not a ridiculous number of people, not the strobing lights you’d see for somebody like Britney or J.Lo, but it gives me a whiff of what it would be like to be truly famous.
“It’s worse every time.” I stretch my back against the leather seat. “Can you imagine if they were following us everywhere?”
“It would suck.” Bianca nods, and she pulls off the stiletto she’s wearing. “It’s kind of the best part of the subscription side. For a business based on exhibition, nobody knows who you are.”
“What a weird world we’re living in.” Shaking my head, I’m still getting my mind around what we do. It all happened so fast. “Do you have to work tonight?”
She crosses her leg and rubs her foot. “I have a few chats, a few challenges.”
Bianca doesn’t dance. She’s strictly on the subscription site, and even though she’s starting out small, she’s making decent money.
Franco said by starting me out as Glitter Girl, I’ll be able to amp up my following through my dancing. He says my anonymity won’t matter when I go live, and we can still make an insane amount of money by advertising at the club.
I wasn’t sure I believed him until tonight. “Will you show me how it works tomorrow? Franco wants me to start soon.”
“Of course.” Bianca winks at me. “Franco’s ready to make you a millionaire.”
“He wants to make himself a millionaire.”
“Still, you get eighty percent of what you earn—minus food and rent.”
Chewing my lip, I look out the window. This isn’t how I dreamed my life would be when I moved to Miami, but perhaps it’s part of my metamorphosis like Michele said.
It doesn’t have to be forever.
* * *
“Ready to learn?”Bianca bounces on my bed, rousing me from a dream of home.
I was dancing on the shore, tracing my pointed toes in the sand as the sun rose. My mom was smiling down and waving from the window of our small, upstairs apartment…Best day ever.
“Ugh… Go away!” I push her with my pillow, but she grabs it, pulling it out of my hand.
“It’s after ten. If we don’t do this now, I’m going to be busy with my own clients. Let’s go, Gia!”
She goes to the window and whips back the curtains, and I pull the blanket over my head. “I don’t want to go to school.”
“You need to wash your face and decide what you want to wear to look for your special photos. These are the ones you’ll only send to your fans, so they need to be a little racy. Maybe a sheer top or something super low-cut that will give a little peek when you lean forward?”
My brow furrows. One week ago I was fretting about taking my clothes off and what my aunt would say if she found out. Then we moved into the “house” (condo), and we had a little girls' night where I met everyone, and we discussed my “problem.” Then we started drinking champagne, and we all got excited.
I told them I could sew any costume. One of the girls pointed out we have access to a sewing machine and old costumes at the club that could be modified. Bianca and I started brainstorming shoes and wigs and masks and someone turned on dance music and I started to move, and everyone lost their shit over how good of a dancer I am.
I was like, duh! It’s all I’ve ever done my whole life. It’s why I came here—to be a real, professional ballet dancer. Not burlesque.
We were alla lottipsy, and when Bianca shared my tragic backstory, I became the house project. All the girls are determined to straighten out my fucked-up fairytale and make my dreams come true…