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Chapter Thirty Two

Blair

Asher is right, I need to fix this with Faye. I hold my phone, feeling nervous as I load our messages. The last one I sent her was a selfie we took together. I stare at our grinning faces side by side and gather my courage before tapping out a message.

Me:Hey, can we meet?

I watch the message, but it never says read, so I drop my phone and scrub at my face. It suddenly vibrates, and I throw myself onto the bed sheets, frantically searching for it. When I look at the notification, my heart drops.

Serina:Where are you, Blair? You were supposed to be on the day shift.

Shit! I was supposed to work. It’s not like me to miss a shift, dancing is my passion. Asher is right, this is an open wound and it’s affecting everything, including my job. I leap to my feet and rush into the shower, having a quick wash, not bothering with my hair. I leave it wavy as I grab some outfits, makeup, and supplies and then slip on some jeans, a plain shirt, and my leather jacket before I run to my car. I drive so fast to the club, I no doubt have a speeding ticket.

When I get there, I run into Serina who frowns at me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m so sorry!” I gush. “I didn’t mean to be late, I was just—”

“Hey, hey, Blair, it’s fine. It happens, I just wanted to make sure you were okay because it’s not like you,” she assures me with a soft smile.

“I-I’m fine, thank you,” I reply with confusion, still unused to her kindness.

“Good, then go get your fine ass ready. You’ve got thirty until you’re up.” She smacks my hip to get me going, and I move through the club to our dressing room, feeling a little more relaxed.

During the day, there are only a few dancers. They must be on stage, so I have the place to myself as I drop my bag on my dressing table and slump into my seat. I’m so lucky to have this job and a boss like her; she genuinely cares. I wonder if she would have still hired me had she known my past. Probably, she doesn’t care, she accepts everyone from every walk of life. We have an ex-junkie, an ex-sex worker, and so many more. She gives them a home, hope, and a better life as well as a family.

It’s only when I’m in the dressing room when I remember my text to Faye. Shit. I pull out my phone and notice the text.

Faye:Tonight? I’m going to the Rashems’ party.

Me:I’ll meet you there.

I drop my phone and pull out my makeup. It’s going to have to be a quick job today because I’m due on stage and it seems I have a date with my best friend tonight, one I can’t be late to or miss.

* * *

Work passes slowly. Usually, I lose myself in the music, but today I’m anxious—anxious to see Faye later, worried over the fact that our friendship may not be salvageable, and apprehensive about trying to make myself vulnerable to her—so when my shift is finally over hours later, I’m almost relieved. I always keep spare clothes with me, so I get changed in the dressing room, losing my sparkly corset and tights and changing into an emerald-green silk dress. It stops at the tops of my thighs and is skintight apart from the top, which has a loose cowl and spaghetti straps.

I add a black leather choker and curl my hair and put it up into a high ponytail, wrapping strands around it to keep it in place. Pulling some pieces free, I frame my face before changing my makeup, adding a smoky eye and black lipstick. Once I’m done, I feel badass and sexy as hell. More importantly, I feel confident.

Something I need.

I slip on a pair of black stilettos, the five inches giving me added height, and the long leather straps that wrap around my ankles and calves make me feel like a goddess. With a smile, I put my other bag in my locker and head out to my car, waving to the girls coming in. Once inside, I crank up the music, watching as the streetlights flicker on and the sun sets between the buildings, throwing orange and red hues across the city. I shiver at the beauty, at the deeply rooted awe that is this world. No wonder Asher feels the need to paint it.

After a moment, I shake off my thoughts, turn on the engine, and pull out into evening traffic, making my way downtown and to another rich party. This time it’s one I’ve never been to before, and I have to check my phone for directions as I pull into a gated community. The house is the last one at the end of the street with a circular driveway filled with cars. I park on the road and get out, my heels sinking into the artificial green grass as I stare up at the house with the music pumping from it.

The front grey double doors are open, and the large front windows are brightly illuminated as people move past them, enjoying the party. There’s a well-kept garden on either side of the entrance, and above the front door on the second story is a circular, brick balcony with a window. It’s a big house, not as big as Crew’s, but nice for sure. I can hear the laughter and screams from out here, so I square my shoulders and head inside in search of Faye.

The music is loud as I step inside, stumbling back to avoid a huge dude running past with a girl over his shoulder. Her whole ass is out, but it doesn’t appear to bother her. Smiling, I shake my head and peer around. Before me are two sets of curling stairs leading up to a balcony that is equally as busy. My heels clack against the marble floor as I look to the left, spotting a giant dining room being used for drinking games. Past that is a pool table and games room with floor-to-ceiling glass doors, which open to the well-lit back garden. To the right is the living room, and past that is a giant kitchen. I head that way, smiling at the drunken, flushed faces I pass. One guy grabs and twirls me, making me laugh with him, but I duck out of his hands when he tries again and move past the dancing bodies to the kitchen.

More people are hanging out here, drinking and talking as they sit on counters and the floor, red solo cups in hand. But Faye isn’t one of them. I grab a drink and return some of the greetings from those who recognise me, and when I spot one girl who’s always been nice, I move over to her.

“Hey, have you seen Faye?” I ask.

She looks around, frowning. “Erm, yeah, I think she was in the games room last time.”

“Thanks.” I nod and walk through the other kitchen door, down some steps, and into the games room. I’m peering around the crowd when I hear shouting.

“You fucking slut! Look at you, playing dress up and thinking you’re all that. You are just some loser freak with no friends thinking wearing old dresses is cool, when in fact it’s probably all that fits your heifer ass.”


Tags: K.A Knight Erotic