Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Oliver

I managed to catch the bus with only seconds to spare, slipping through the doors right before they closed. It had been a long day and I was tired, but I did not dare close my eyes. If I did, I might fall asleep and miss my stop, and I needed to get home as quickly as possible.

Some deity must have been smiling at me, because the bus actually managed to run on time for once. It dropped me off at the stop near my house, and I ran until the familiar front porch was in sight.

“Hey, Oliver,” Rowan’s voice greeted me as soon as I stepped through the door.

With one foot already on the stairs to the second floor, I froze in shock, then turned around. “Hey, Rowan. Having a good day today?”

My fifteen-year-old brother sat in his wheelchair in front of the living room television, watching Wheel of Fortune with Nana. His grin could have replaced the sun.

“Yep. I managed to walk down the stairs all on my own.”

Spinal Muscular Atrophy created a weakness in muscles and ligaments. To put it simply, his body just couldn’t support itself, and even simple movements were often difficult. Some days it was a struggle for him to even sit up unassisted. To actually walk down the stairs on his own must mean he was having a very good day.

I wasn’t fooled into thinking this would be a permanent improvement. Good days came, and good days left. Tomorrow, he could be bedridden again, but for now I was just happy that he was happy.

“That’s great, bud. I’m glad you had a good day. Do you and mom have anything special planned for tonight?”

“Mom’s making garlic bread,” Rowan practically cheered, like it was the best news ever. “And there’s a marathon of Godzilla movies running all night.”

“Sounds like you guys have it all planned out.”

I saw the frown on Nana’s face and knew she had something to say, so I darted into the kitchen before she could utter a single word.

“Hey, mom. Rowan says there’s garlic bread?”

From her position at the kitchen counter stirring a pot of spaghetti, she nodded toward the oven. “It’s still baking, but it should be done by now. Could you check on it?”

“Sure thing.”

Just as she said, the homemade garlic bread was perfectly golden. I pulled it out of the oven and immediately grabbed a piece to take a bite. It burned the roof of my mouth, so I quickly sucked in air to cool it down while still eating.

“Slow down, it’s not going anywhere,” my mother chided me.

“Sorry, mom. I’m just in a rush. I promised Ashes I’d be over soon.”

“All right.”

I could hear the sad tone in her voice, though she didn’t try to argue with me. She never did. The few times she’d raised her voice at me, her gaze drifted toward the left side of my face, and she fell silent.

I hated the sadness and guilt that constantly hung over her like a dark cloud. Every time I saw it made me feel like I’d drunk pure acid and my stomach rolled unpleasantly. Because of this, I usually kept our interactions short.

Heading upstairs, I dropped off my work stuff in my room and grabbed another already packed bag. My sketchbook never left my side since I didn’t want anyone stumbling across the folder of financial information hidden in the back, so I took a moment to transfer it to my new bag. Then, after splashing some water on my face to try and wash off the exhaustion, I headed for the door.

Nana was waiting for me. On the surface, it looked like she was giving me some more garlic bread to take with me, but I knew she really just wanted an excuse to lecture me.

“Are you really going out again? You do this every night your mother has off work. Stay and spend some time with your family for once. Rowan is having a good day and he wants to watch these giant lizard movies with you.”

I took the garlic bread she offered me but didn’t look her in the eye. “Sorry, Nana. Maybe next time. I’ve… um, I’ve already made plans.”

“Yes, yes.” She waved me off. “Go spend time with your friend. Obviously, that’s more important than your family.”

“Oh, come on, Nana,” I said, even as I reached for the door. “You know nothing is more important than family.”

The door had almost closed behind me when I caught the faint sound of her voice.

“You say that, but you certainly don’t show it.”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I closed the door softly, so the latch barely made a sound. I stood on the porch for a moment, watching my shadow change shape under the flickering porch light. Hot tears stung my eyes. On my right side the tear fell easily, but on my left it got lost in the creases of my scars.

I wiped both away with the back of my hand and took a deep breath.

Now wasn’t the time to get emotional. If I didn’t hurry, I was going to be late.

Running down the road back toward the bus stop, I pulled out my phone and selected one of my few saved contacts.

“Hey, Oliver,” Ashes’ familiar voice greeted me.

“Hey, Ashes. You still good to cover for me tonight?”

“Yep. If your family asks, you were with me all night.”

“Thanks again. You’re the best.”

“You know it. Stay safe. Call me in the morning.”

The phone disconnected with a beep just as my bus arrived. I got on, but there weren’t any seats open. So, I leaned against a pole and tried to catch my breath as the bus started heading in the opposite direction from Ashes’ place.

My friend’s full name was Ashley Sanger, but no one called them that. They preferred the gender-neutral adaptation of their name, Ashes.

I’d met Ashes shortly after the fire, and we’d been best friends ever since. I supported them when they came out as non-binary and helped them find a place to live when their family kicked them out. Because of this, Ashes’ loyalty was unwavering. When I asked them to lie for me, they did, without question.

I hated using my friend as a cover story, but I didn’t have much choice. My family would never let me leave the house again if they knew where I was going.

Most nights, when I came home from the coffee house, I took care of my brother so the at home nurse could leave. However, my mother didn’t work on Thursday and Friday nights, so I was free to do whatever I wanted without fear of leaving Rowan helpless.

If given the choice, I would have much rather stayed home.

Another half hour bus ride dropped me off in the center of downtown Baltimore, right outside a gay club called the Erodance . It was more upscale than your average strip club, but it still catered to desires of the flesh all the same.

I avoided the front door, and went in through the back like the rest of the employees.

When I was asked as a child what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always said the same thing. I wanted to be an artist. Well, in a way, I was. As an exotic dancer, I created art of a sort, although I used my body instead of a brush.

The backstage area of the club was a chaotic mix of red velvet couches that were so old they were practically threadbare, and dozens of dressing tables lined up for the dancer’s use. I found my usual table, off to the side where I preferred it, and started getting ready.

The first thing I put on was my mask. In the club, I was never seen without it. Even my fellow dancers barely knew what I looked like. It covered the left side of my face, which not only hid my scars, but also kept my identity a secret. I had several different masks to match the different outfits hanging on my personal clothing rack.

Well, the costumes barely counted as outfits. Really, they were just bits of fabric and string that seemed to be more glitter than substance. Technically, they covered what needed to be covered so I was not completely naked, but little was left to the imagination.

Because of the mask, I’d been given the stage name Phantom. As soon as I arrived, I checked the schedule to see what routines I’d be performing in, and which costumes would be needed.

Tonight, I was assigned to wear a delicate silver creation that reminded me of something from a fairytale.

Everything at the club was fast-paced. There was barely twenty minutes between my arrival and my first performance.

As I approached the stage from the wings, I tuned out everything around me. I didn’t see the club or the patrons waiting just past the curtain. I didn’t even see my fellow dancers. There was just me, and the silver pole on stage about a dozen feet away that I would be performing on.

The only thought in my head was the choreography.

And the fact that I was cold.

For a place where the employees walked around with ninety-five percent of their skin on display, one would think they could turn the heat up a little. I had goosebumps everywhere, and my nipples felt hard enough to cut diamonds.

Maybe that was the point.

There were a few performances before mine, which I watched with disinterested attention.

Genie in a Bottle.

She Wolf.

I Need a Hero.

The club was definitely having a fantasy theme that night.

After each performance, I watched the back door on the other side of the stage. Each time, the performer disappeared through it, along with at least one of the club’s patrons.

Unlike a typical strip club, guests did not throw money on stage. Each performer was given a standard paycheck, and they could leave it at that if they wanted.

However, the real money was made in the back. Guests could purchase a “private show” if they wanted, and the dancer agreed. They claimed it was just dancing, but everyone knew what really happened behind those doors.

Just the other night, I’d been offered twenty thousand dollars to give a guest a “private show”. I’d turned them down. My body may be on display, but it wasn’t for sale.

However, as I waited for my turn to perform, I couldn’t help thinking of the secret folder at the back of my sketchbook. Even with my mom’s job, my job, my under the table paycheck from the coffee house, and the money I made dancing, we were still barely making any headway.

Twenty thousand dollars wouldn’t solve our debt problem, but it would definitely help. And if I kept giving “private shows”, eventually, I might even be able to pay it all off. My family could finally be debt free. Rowan could be set up with even better care, and my mother wouldn’t have to work so hard.

All it would cost would be… me.

If I gave my body away, then my family could finally thrive.

What was I even saving myself for anyway?

It wasn’t like anyone actually wanted me. I was hanging on to something worthless when I could be profiting off it.

I had half a mind to find the manager for that night and tell them that I would accept any “private show” requests. However, an image of the man from earlier popped into my mind.

I didn’t know his name, but he had definitely been flirting with me. I still didn’t know what he saw that made him take an interest, even just a passing one, but it gave me hope that maybe I still had some value in the eyes of others.

The song for my performance started. Putting on a sultry expression, I stepped out onto the stage under the spotlights and grabbed the pole to start my routine.

I wouldn’t accept any “private shows” that night. I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for, but I could afford to wait a little longer.