“You comin’?” Creme asked over the music as she walked.

“Yes.” I did a slow trot to catch up to Creme.

We weren’t in the dressing room for a good thirty minutes before a big, burly man burst through the door. Most of the girls scattered or quickly busied themselves. I never did know what his real name was, but all the girls called him Bruce Bruce, ’cause he was just as big as the famous comedian and he did kinda favor him.

“Delicious just quit, I need somebody fresh!” he hollered. When he stepped close to me, Creme was standing next to me, but she didn’t say anything.

“Oh, Jackie,” he said, removing the cigar from his lips, where spittle had gathered at the corners of his mouth.

“Um, it’s Jada,” I corrected.

“Whatever. You’re Delicious now. You need to be ready to shake that ass when I call for you.”

Before I could protest, he spun around and headed back out the door as abruptly as he had come in.

I glanced up in the mirror to see the other dancers in different stages of closing down for the day, while others were getting ready to go make more money. My head started spinning and I felt myself get warm.

“God, where’s Diane. I can’t do this,” I said, leaning up against a nearby counter.

“What you mean you can’t do it? Much as Diane been braggin’ about your ass, you’d better get out there and do somethin’,” Creme insisted. But the more she talked, the more upset my stomach became. Soon, I felt the bile churning and threatening to erupt. I rushed to the closest trashcan and leaned over the top.

The other girls were going about their business like nothing had happened. When I was done, Creme pulled me to the side. “Look, I got a little something for you. It’ll help you relax and get into it,” she said. She fumbled through her stuff for a second and came out with a small plastic bag. I knew what time it was. She stuck one of her long fingernails into the bag and held it in front of my face.