#DasieWho
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Dasie Who?
[It was just another Tuesday night. At least that’s what I told myself. It made it easier on nights when I could feel my father’s presence. Knew that he’d have something to say about how I spent my nights. But then again he really couldn’t say anything. He died when I was 11. A robbery gone wrong. Which is funny in some weird, twisted way seeing as he’d been in actual war zones and lived to tell the tale, but the moment he was stuck stateside he was killed.
We’d just moved to Seattle the year before. My father had been transferred to the Naval Station Bremerton and we lived at Fort Lawton with my mother. That was until he was killed. Then we moved from apartment to apartment with my then-baby brother Noah. And then my brother Jace. Plus twin sisters Sara and Anna. To say my mother went down a dark path is putting it lightly. I didn’t even realize until I was 14 that Noah wasn’t my father’s son like I thought. But apparently my father had known about my mother’s checkered past.
I came to learn of it the hard way. How she spent the little money we got from my father’s pension on drugs and god knows what instead of on her children. I had never known why my parents weren’t married until I’d seen my mother in action. He was waiting to make sure she wasn’t just trying to trap him. That might make my father seem like a bad man, but you’d have to know my mother and how horrible she could be. I’m sure in some messed up sense she loves us. At least I’d like to think that for my siblings sake. But considering we hadn’t seen in her in over a year it was highly unlikely.
When I turned 16, I petitioned for emancipation and begged to take care of my siblings. Thankfully an old military buddy of my father, Lieutenant Commander Austin McDaniels stepped in to help keep us together and became my siblings’ legal guardian until I could prove that I’d be responsible enough. It was a very rare case, but I was more than willing to play up the fact that my father was a vet and that my mother was clearly a trainwreck. My school records were decent and I had already gotten a job and had a car. By the time I was 18 I was the legal guardian, and McDaniels transferred to a new post when I turned 19.
It was challenging at times. And I gave up my own dreams to take care of my family. But I wouldn’t change a second of it. Even the bad parts. Like the jobs I had to take to make end meets. When I was old enough, the remainder of my father’s pension was put into a savings account. It’s not much, but it’s good to have in case of emergency and I try to leave it alone for only real emergencies. It would be too easy to take out money for anything from rent to food if I didn’t have that thought in mind. And for a while when rent was hard to keep up with, I really had to stop myself from doing that. Instead I found myself working for Pierre.
Pierre Scott was a friend of a friend and my boss. When I fell on hard times and needed money fast, an old friend from high school suggested I go work for him. The moment I walked into the Forbidden Desires Gentlemen’s Club I knew I was going down a path I most likely wouldn’t come back from. Any dreams that I had would have to be completely forsaken. Thankfully Pierre only needed escorts at the time. Arm candy to men with money who for whatever reasons needed to come across it this way. I learned really early it’s best not to ask questions. I cleaned up nice, was polite and well mannered. And that made me a very popular commodity.
When I first started, I was nervous about exactly what was required of an escort. My heart was racing so hard up until Pierre assured me that no one was allowed to touch me without my permission. He made it clear anything I wanted to do was my prerogative and that he’d have my back if someone got handsy. That seemed weird but he valued running a respectable business. He saw it as something that could benefit both the girls and the men as long as there were rules and boundaries which were respected. I’d worked for him ever since. Most days it didn’t bother me, dressing up fancy for some man who just needed me to look pretty. Some of my regulars had actually become weird defacto friends in a sense.
But like I said, on days when the memory of my father weighed on my mind it was a bit more of a challenge to get out of my head. I was currently in the back room of the club, the kids staying with our neighbors the Fredericks, getting ready for a night out. The gentleman was new and I hoped it’d be a simple evening with not much talking. Sometimes conversations, especially small talk, was hard for me. It was best to be seen and not heard.
The pearl earrings that we were allowed to borrow from Pierre’s collection easily slipped into place and I knew I still had a few minutes to kill. Looking in the mirror only made me dread this night. And I didn’t like dreading a job that I usually enjoyed. So I set out for a quiet place to wait. My fancy dress swooshing with every step up the backstairs. Escort services were just one part of the Forbidden Desire’s offering. The other was very in house. Soft, slinky music filling the room as my hand pushed open the velvet door to the balcony. Not many people were up in the back area unless they just came for the view. Instead there was a decent crowd downstairs enjoying the company of the ladies that worked the floor. Dancing and entertaining them.
Classy, not trashy as I once described it to a friend. I’d never worked it, but I would be lying if I said I’d never thought about it. There was a fascination more towards the dancing than anything else. When I was a little girl my father took me to the ballet. It was actually one of the few things we did on a regular basis that I remember and one of the last things we did together before he died. I remember being mesmerized by the dancers and wanted to be just like them. So I took ballet classes. Once he died it was harder to keep up with it, but I did as best I could. When I danced I felt connected to something I couldn’t describe. I felt connected to him and my childhood. My eyes were trained on the current dancer up on the stage. Regina. And she was good. Graceful and seductive and just mesmerizing like the ballerinas from my childhood.
I was so entranced that I didn’t even notice Pierre walk up next to me. “You know, I remember Jake telling me that you used to dance in high school. Ballet in fact. Said you were pretty damn good and could have become better had you gone to an academy or something. What kept you?” My eyes flicker from Regina to meet his. I was pretty closed lip about my past. People knew what they needed to know and nothing more. Pierre probably knew the most out of anyone in the whole building but even that was limited. Over the years I’d learned to trust him. As much as I could trust any one.
So in a rare moment of honesty, I mumbled softly as my eyes turned back to Regina.] It’s hard to pay for that kind of education when you’ve got four children who depend on you and barely any money. Being a dancer is a nice dream, but that’s all it is. [Pierre is quiet for a moment before humming softly. “Well with Paige quitting last week, I’ve got an open dancer spot. If you’re interested, you could split shifts between your escort work and dancing. I’d be more than willing to give you a bump in profit if…” He trails off and my eyes cut back to him. Eyebrow arched in curiosity.
Pierre wasn’t a bad guy but this was sounding too much like a Pretty Woman scenario for my taste. Once he knows he’s got my attention he continues. “... if you spend that extra money towards dance school.” The incredulous look on my face is hard to disguise. Pierre must be drunk or something and I have no problem telling him so.] Hahaha, very funny. But what you're talking about is just ridiculous. Go back to your office, Pierre before someone else realizes you’re drunk and takes advantage of the situation. [I push off the rail I’d been leaning on and am ready to head back downstairs when his hand catches mine. Letting out a soft gasp, I can’t help but turn back to meet his gaze once more.
There’s something about the look he’s giving me that has me worried. Not that he’d do something out of line, but that he might cross a line that would make being here uncomfortable and I actually really like working here. He seems to pick up on my distress and slowly lets go of my hand so that it drops by my side. His tone still firm. “I’m serious, Dasie. You make me a lot of money and I’d be a fool to give you an out. But you deserve more out of life and if I can help you find it some way, I want to. So come in early tomorrow and work with Regina a bit. See how you like dancing on the floor and if it’s something you like doing and interests you, the job is yours. Just promise me you’ll think about the other part. You’d make one stunning ballerina.” I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat and can’t bring myself to say anything. So I simply nod my head and back away towards the stairs.
It was surely time for my appointment and I needed to distract myself from the bizarre turn this night has taken. There’s a separate entrance for the escort business. A more discreet one and even an area for limos and cars to stop by and pick us up. It almost looks like a hotel lobby and valet service. It’s quite the disguise and I can see the receptionist looking for me when I push through the double doors. Seems I was a tad behind, though one look at my client for the night and I knew he wouldn’t mind my tardiness.
Effortlessly, I glide across the tile floor and slip my arm into his with a wide smile on my face.] Good evening, sorry for the delay. [“Oh it’s nothing, Sadie. I hope you like the ballet. We’re going to the Pacific Northwest Ballet’s performance of Sleeping Beauty and they have gala after that.” My lips pull back into a wide smile but it’s mostly for show. Because for as much as I love the ballet, and it’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to go, that is the last thing I want to do after how my night started. But tonight I wasn’t Dasie Wallace. I was Sadie and my date was taking me to see the ballet.]
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