“So with my last name, I’m fucked. And with the fear these girls have and my last name, no way we’re gonna get one to wear a wire.”
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled.
Crap.
This meant we had two choices.
Since the girls were never going to talk to me, my being undercover was a bust. We’d have to abort, find another woman to go undercover and possibly alert Steiner to our activities because of it. Worse, this would cause an unacceptable delay and make these women live in fear for even longer.
Or I had to make the girls talk to me.
Which meant I had to find a way to make the girls trust me.
And the only way I could do that was become one of their own.
As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and when Meena called out, “Decent!” Lenny, one of Smithie’s bouncers, stuck his head in.
“Five minutes, Ally,” he said to me and his head disappeared.
Shit, shit, fuck.
Lottie reached out and squeezed my knee. “You’re gonna be great.”
“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled, straightening from my chair.
Lottie grabbed my robe and we headed out.
“Knock ‘em dead,” Meena encouraged, smiling at me as we passed her.
“I’m just hoping not to puke on any of them,” I told her honestly, and her smile got bigger.
“We all felt that way the first time,” she informed me. “And we all got over it. You’ll be fine.”
Right.
We headed out and Lottie led me backstage. Through a small part in the curtain I could see the dancers gyrating and I felt bile slide up my throat.
Lottie got close. “Breathe deep,” she advised.
I breathed deep.
The bile went away. The nerves didn’t.
“Two minutes, fifteen seconds, and it’s over,” she told me.
That was right. Two minutes, fifteen seconds then I was off the stage.
Though, my second song was longer.
Shit!
The place went dark and I felt the girls run by us, coming off stage.
Shit, shit, fuck!
That was when I heard Smithie’s voice coming loud, saying into a microphone, “You’re all in for a fuckin’ treat tonight! We’re debuting a new act. So put your eyes to the stage, put your hands together and welcome the Rock Chick!”
More darkness.
Lottie gave me a shove through the curtain and I walked through the dark, passing Smithie who muttered, “Fuck,” into the microphone as he tripped over the cord on the way out.
By rote, I went to my mark, in my head saying over and over again, two minutes, fifteen seconds, two minutes, fifteen seconds.
Then out loud, I whispered, “You can do this Ally.”
But I knew it didn’t matter. I could pep talk myself for another year.
I wasn’t going to be able to do it.
That’s when the guitars blared, the scratchy-fast “Yea,” hit, the lights came up, blinding me, and it happened.
It was like someone flipped a switch.
And the switch they flipped was rock ‘n’ roll.
Specifically, ZZ Top’s “Tush.”
I just started to move, everything Lottie and Daisy taught me flowing through my veins.
