Shadows Between Us

The changing room was heavy with perfume, hair spray, and sweat, the air thick like it couldn’t clear. Bright bulbs buzzed around the mirrors, throwing back the shine of glitter and sequins.

Becky White—though she went by another name here—leaned in close to the glass and smoothed on the final layer of lip gloss.

Tonight, she was Henny.

“Henny, you’re up in five!” The gravelly voice of her boss, Tricky, cut through the chatter of the girls fixing their lashes. She didn’t wait for a reply, Tricky never did. She just slammed the door open and barked, “Make it snappy, girl. Big spenders are at the front.”

Becky exhaled slowly, her wig was laid, her lashes fluttered like butterfly wings, her heels strapped tight. She touched the picture of her mother taped inside her bag, then stood. Whatever nerve she carried, she buried them under the skin of Henny.

The stage lights swallowed her whole. The music blasted so loudly the bass rattled her bone, vibrating up to her legs. She strutted towards the pole, the glare forcing her to squint, but she smiled anyway. She knew the eye were on her – the big spender in pressed suit with cigar burning, the weekend warriors who blew the paycheck in one night, the lonely men who’d pay to feel wanted.

She wrapped her hand around the pole, flipped her hair, and let the beat take over. The crowed leaned over, drawn to her rhythm. She climbed, her thighs gripping the cool steel, spinning down in a spiral that make bill rain at her feet.

For a moment, she felt untouchable.

She hooked her leg, lifted her body, and twisted in a smile that said she owned every gaze in the room. Hands clapped, voice hollered, money slapped the stage.

Then it happened.

Her right heel gave a sharp crack, snapping under the pressure. Her balance slipped, the pole rushed out of her grip, and she dropped harder than she meant to. Her kneel smacked the stage, one hand slapping down to break her fall. Gasp rippled across the room, followed by a cruel laugher of a few men in the back.

Heat flushed her check. She scrambled up, heart pounding.

Tricky’s voice cut sharp through the noise.

“Get your ass off the stage, Henny! Change into some new shit before I cut your pay.”

The embarrassment hurt more than the fall. She kept her head down, grabbed the scattered money, and rushed away, her heels clicking out of step.

The rest of her set was gone. Someone else will cover, that was the thing about this place – mess up once, and you were disposable.

Hours blurred by in a haze of the neon light, sweaty cash, and fake smile. By the time the last customer left and the music stopped, Beck’s body was sore. She changed out of her costume, packed her things and stepped outside.

The street smelled of fried food, car fumes, and wet concrete. With Shaky hands, she lit a cigarette and took a long drag, hoping it would calm her.

“You okay girl?” Bardi’s voice rang out as she joined her. Short, thick, with a laugh that could cut glass, Bardi was one of the people that Becky trusted.

“That fall looked rough” Bardi added, nudging her shoulder.

“Forget them fool laughing” Bardi said “you still pulled out hella money. But you look beat. What’s eating you?”

Becky hesitated, the night air was cold, but the weight on her chest felt heavier. “It’s my mum”, she admitted. “The bills keep piling up, Caner’s not cheap, Bardi. I’m drowning. Every dollar I make disappears before it even warms my pocket.”

Bardi’s eyes softened. “Damm, Henny. I’m sorry. How’s she holding up.?”

“Bad. Real bad. Somedays she can’t even sit up. And the doctor keep talking about new treatment like I got money lying around.” Bardi through tightened. She heated talking about it – heated feeling weak.

“You’re doing what you gotta do” Bardi said gentle. “Don’t kill yourself over it. Your mum wouldn’t want that.”

Becky shook her head. “At this point, I’ll do anything to bring in more money. Anything.”

Bardi studied her for a second, “Just… by careful what anything turns into.”

They walked in silence, the city still buzzing—sirens in the distance, vendors closing up, traffic humming nonstop. Beck’s steps grew heavier, her bag feeling like it was weighing her down, her body aching for rest.

By the time she reached her street, the sky was turning pale with morning. She hugged Bardi good bye, gave a smile she didn’t mean, and headed inside her apartment.

Her mother’s window was dark. Good. She slipped her key into the lock, moving like a shadow. She didn’t want to explain where she’d been as four in the morning, smelling like smoke and liquor, glitter still stuck to her skin.

Inside, her apartment was quit except the faint hum of the old fridge. She tiptoe past her mother’s door, peeking enough to see her chest rising and falling in sleep, Relief washed over her.

In her room, she dropped her bag on the floor, stripped out of her cloth, and collapsed onto the bed, the ceiling stared back at her. Crack paint and water stain like map leading nowhere.

Her phone buzzed.

A message from Red.

Red was one of the club’s wildest girls—always flashing stacks of money, always in something new, always whispering about “side hustles” that didn’t sound like anything Becky wanted to touch. But now…

Red: Want to make some extra cash tomorrow night?

Becky frowned, thumb hovering. Before she could reply, another text dropped in.

Red: You sure you’ll really do anythinggg?

Becky’s stomach twisted. She locked the screen and dropped the phone besides her. But the words echoed in her head.

Anything.

She had to make money somehow, and she needed to be fast before it was too late.