Wagering on the Fine White Man

Chapter 1

Violet

I fall into the chair like a sack of bricks. My muscles ache, and I can feel a thin layer of sweat clinging to my skin. 

“Just one second, Violet,” I tell myself, knowing I can’t get too comfortable.

Two hours of rehearsals. A short, forty-minute break, and then we’re back at it. Although I’m used to it, my body still struggles to recover. 

I stay glued to the worn velvet chair. The soft fibers feel good against my skin, but I can’t imagine how many times I and other dancers have sat here after rehearsals. I wonder how often they clean it, if ever. 

I can feel that my leg warmers are askew, so I pull myself up to fix them. Even such a small movement feels like a chore, as my body only wants to sit and relax. 

As I tug at the edges of the warmers, I glance out at the other dancers. They’re all getting cleaned up and adjusting themselves to be as presentable as possible. Only the best-looking ones get the spotlight, and they’re all trying to be in the top spot. 

Not that any of us really want it, anyway. I certainly don’t want the attention, and I can’t imagine it’s much better for any of the other girls. 

They’re all here to try and leverage the show to get bigger and better opportunities elsewhere. If they can make it here, they can headline at other casinos and get fatter contracts. 

Getting paid to dance, there’s an idea. An idea I once had, but one that I’ve long since forgotten. 

Five years. It’s already been five years. It simultaneously feels like no time has passed at all and like I’ve been here for an eternity. 

Rehearsal, show, rehearsal, show. I’ve lost count of how many shows I’ve done. How many routines I’ve had to learn. How many times I’ve had to smile at the audience until my face hurts. 

At this point, I’d settle for a shitty studio apartment above a dive bar if it meant independence. No more burlesque shows, no more gaudy feathered outfits, no more paying off debts that aren’t mine. 

I find myself staring at the outfits for tonight. The glint of the overhead lights catching the rhinestones and fake jewels, giving each outfit a sheen of dazzling brilliance. 

The colored feathers stick out like a peacock, commanding attention and drawing the eye. Such vibrant hues, all waiting for the spotlight. 

The feathers make me think of birds, flying so freely in the air. If only I could fly, I could disappear from this casino forever. One quick move, and I’d be gone. 

Five years. 

Five years, and I’m barely making a dent. A seven-figure debt, and I’m working a job that pays about as well as a schoolteacher. 

At this rate, I’ll be in my sixties by the time the debt is paid off. I imagine myself as an old dancer, carefully pulling the outfit over my wrinkled, saggy body. 

The image is enough to bring tears to the surface. My whole life wasted, all because of my father. 

I wipe a tear from my eye when I see Parker’s shadow behind me. I make it look like I’m wiping sweat off my face, getting ready for the next round of rehearsals. I don’t want him to see me crying. 

“Good evening, Violet.” 

His words creep around my shoulders, stinging my ears. 

I glance at him in the mirror. I don’t want to see him face-to-face. 

“Hello, Parker.” I sigh. 

“These are for you,” he replies. 

I can feel the soft petals of flowers brush against my skin. He’s bought me another bouquet. That’s the third one this week. 

“Thank you,” I say softly. I don’t even look at the flowers as he sets them on the vanity next to me. 

Suddenly, his hand is on my shoulder, pulling me around to face him. 

“That’s it? Just a weak, ‘thank you?’ I paid a lot of money for these flowers!” He looks scorned, like a petulant child about to throw a tantrum. 

“I appreciate the sentiment. But I don’t have anywhere to put them. I can barely hold onto the flowers you’ve already given me.” My voice is calm and collected. Parker is a creep, but I know how to handle him. 

“What kind of ungrateful bitch are you?” 

Parker’s voice raises, catching the attention of several dancers. They stare at us for a moment before resuming their activities. They all know better than to get involved. 

“I’m not ungrateful, Parker. I’m just tired. It’s been a long day of rehearsals.” I turn back to face the mirror, but he grabs my arm. 

He pulls me out of the chair, his fingers digging into my skin. It hurts, and it’s the first time he’s been this aggressive. 

My body tightens, and the hairs on my neck stand at attention. I stand, facing him, looking him in the eye. 

I can see the rage behind his pupils. He’s not one to accept rejection, especially because I keep doing it. I think he’s finally reached his breaking point. 

“What the fuck is your problem? You don’t like the attention? What, am I not good enough for you?” 

“Parker, it’s not that. I’m flattered by your advances, I really am. It’s just, I’m not interested. I’m not interested in anyone, actually. I just want to focus on dancing,” I stammer. 

As I speak, I realize how much his anger is scaring me. As the casino owner’s nephew, he has the power to make my life even more miserable. 

I imagine him talking to Tony about me, about how much he wants to date me. I think about Tony asking me to oblige in exchange for money off my debt. 

There’s so much left to pay off, so what’s a few thousand bucks? 

“Why don’t you just give me a chance, Violet? I could take you out on the town, some fancy dinners, a few drinks. I can even show you my penthouse suite.” 

He smirks, no doubt imagining what my going back to his suite would entail. The thought disgusts me. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just not interested,” I reply. 

He advances, pushing me against the vanity. The feathers from the hanging outfits press against my back and shoulders. 

“Well, maybe I should just get my uncle involved, huh? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I pay off some of your debt in exchange for a few nights with me.” He gets closer, pressing his body against mine. 

I look around, hoping for something, anything, to help me. I imagine knocking him out with one of the busts holding the headpieces. 

My breath quickens, and my heart pounds in my chest. 

Finally, a voice comes in, breaking the tension. 

“Parker! I need to talk to you for a minute!”

Bill, the show manager, calls Parker over. Parker doesn’t break eye contact as he responds. 

“Yeah, I’m on my way!”

He leaves the bouquet on the vanity as he walks over to the manager. Several of the other girls stand in the corner, staring at him as he leaves. He shoots them a dirty look, and they avert their gaze. 

I need to get out of here. 

There are only a few more minutes before rehearsals begin again, but I need some space. I need to be able to catch my breath and process what just happened. 

I move to the back of the dressing room to the hallway exit. The other girls look at me as I open the door, but I don’t care. 

I move through the hallway, passing various stagehands and other workers. I’m struggling to keep it together. I’m sure my face says everything, as a few of the workers take a second look at me as I walk past. 

Finally, I find a spot where I can be alone. I let go of the tension gripping me and breathe a massive sigh of relief. 

Suddenly, I’m cold. I rub my hands against my arms to bring back some of the warmth. 

No debt is worth this. If Parker wants to make my life hell, he’ll do it. He’ll talk to Tony and convince him to force me to go out with him. 

But who knows how far Parker will take it? How far he’ll go to make me his. Is it just the thrill of the conquest, or does he think he has feelings for me?

I lean against the wall and slide down slowly until my knees are at my chest. 

An announcement plays over the PA. “Dancers, five minutes until you’re needed back on stage.” 

The future has always looked bleak since my servitude began, but now, it looks so much worse. How long can I keep this up? How long before I have to do whatever is necessary to escape? 

I start crying. I put my hands over my face, trying to hide my shame. 

Here I am, alone in the corner, bawling, with no way out. 

What kind of life is this?