Pure, dark, violence
We walked past the bar to the back of the club, Kevin pointing out different things as we went.
“We’ll do a proper walkthrough once we’ve got you set up, but this here,” he said, pointing to a keypad by a red door, “this is for the girls only, of course, with me and Luciano as exceptions.”
He showed me the PIN, and we walked into the room. It was much bigger than the changing rooms at Thrive. It had a thick, plush red carpet and black walls. Mirrors and makeup tables lined the space, and a few girls were already seated and fixing themselves. I was glad I wasn’t the only one who liked to be early.
“Hey! Oohhh, is this the new girl you were telling me about, Kevin!?”
This blonde, Barbie-looking explosion bounced out of her seat and practically skipped over in 8-inch pink stilettos. How she was managing not to break her neck was beyond me. She wore a two-piece, bright pink leather bra and matching short shorts. Her breasts looked like they might bounce up into her face and knock her out. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and her makeup made her look somewhat innocent, if you didn’t look below the shoulders at the rest of her outfit.
“I’m Candy!” she said, pulling me into a hug that honestly felt like I should be paying for, considering how much of her boobs were pressing into me.
“Is that because you’re all sweet and bubbly and shit?” I asked before I could register the blatantly rude tone in my voice.
“Ha! Exactly. Sweet like Candy and they all want a taste,” she said with a wink.
“So, what’s your name?”
“Oh, sorry. Lilly,” I replied with a half-smile.
“Nooo, girly, you need a stage name! Lord knows my parents would never have named me Candy. We pick stage names to protect ourselves from creepers trying to weasel into our outside lives.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t have one.”
I didn’t need to tell her Lilly wasn’t even my real name, so I never really thought it mattered if I used it in the clubs. If anyone ever tried to find me using that name, they wouldn’t. I made sure of that.
“Didn’t you get transferred here from another club?”
“Yeah?”
“So how did you protect yourself from creeps? What would’ve happened if someone used your name to find out where you lived?”
“Oh, well if anyone was a creep, I’d just punch them in the balls, poke my fingers in their eyes, or snap their arm or something,” I said, shrugging.
Candy’s eyes went wide, Kevin visibly stiffened beside me, and I only just realized how not-normal that statement sounded coming from a 5-foot-nothing female who was supposed to be dainty and seductive.
After what felt like an eternity, but was probably just a minute of holding my breath, she laughed. Like, really laughed. Bent over, holding her stomach, wiping a stray tear before it could ruin her perfectly set face.
“Okay, so your stage name from here on out will be Violence,” she said with a wicked grin.
Yep. I like this girl.
After Candy shooed Kevin away, telling him the girls could handle it from here, I met the others and was shown to my own table. It had everything I’d need, brand-new, high-end products. Candy explained how Luciano made sure every girl here was well taken care of with whatever they needed to look the part. Then she showed me the wardrobes, conveniently placed between each table along the wall. Each girl got her own walk-in wardrobe that I swear was the same size as my hotel room. It had the same red carpet and black walls with gold accents, and the floor-to-ceiling racks on all four walls were lined with clothes, shoes, and accessories. Everything looked brand-new, still with price tags, and after further inspection, it was all in my size, from the bra cups down to the shoes.
“Haha, yeah, I looked just like that when I first saw my wardrobe. Everything here is handpicked for you, usually by Kevin. He has excellent taste and a way of reading what a girl’s style is.”
“Kevin picked all this out for me?”
“Well, no, not exactly,” she said, not even trying to hide her amusement. “I was told your wardrobe was handpicked by Luciano.”
Why the hell would Luciano do this for me? How would he even know my sizes? I haven’t even met the man. I’m just some pity case his sister asked him to take on, and he’s spent all this money and bought all these things with me in mind? That doesn’t make any sense...
As if she couldn’t tell, or didn’t care about my internal meltdown, Candy grabbed my hand and squealed, snapping me back to reality. I squinted at the blonde bubble of energy now pulling pieces left, right, and center, holding them up to my body like she was dressing a life-sized Barbie.
“Okay, yesssss! This is it. Put this one on,” she said, holding up a black leather corset and matching underwear.
After I slipped into the outfit, I paired it with a set of sturdy black heels that laced around my calves and a black leather choker that looked a bit more like a collar but it fit the vibe. Candy styled my long black hair into a slick, high ponytail, then finished with a smoky eye, a touch of blush, and mascara. She said I didn’t need much makeup because my skin was flawless and she just wanted to enhance my features, especially my electric blue eyes and soft pink lips.
“Oh dang, girl, you really did a number on her, Candy. The men are gonna eat her up. You’re gonna have some competition now,” one of the other girls, Ruby, said from behind us, admiring the reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror.
Looking at myself, I was shocked. I’d worn outfits from Stacy and dressed up every night I worked at Thrive—but those were her style. This? What I was seeing now?
This was me.
Pure.
Dark.
Violence.
