In The Devil's keeping

The first time Luana made more in tips than I did, I didn't say anything.

I counted my crumpled bills in the back room, watching her fold hundreds like she didn't even need them. Her lipstick was smudged, her chest blotched with a fresh bite mark. She looked like sin in a rhinestone thong, and the men had thrown their wallets at her like she was their last salvation.

Andrea leaned over my shoulder, chewing licorice.

"You're slipping, baby."

"I'm still learning," I said.

She raised an eyebrow. "That excuse has an expiration date."

I shoved the cash into my bag. "I'll make it back next shift."

Andrea didn't argue. She just popped another piece of candy in her mouth and walked off like it wasn't her problem.

Luana got the best tables now.

She didn't ask. Dante just started assigning them to her like it was the natural order of things. A week ago, that was me. Now, I danced under cheaper lights, with cheaper men.

One night, I saw her offer a private room lap dance to a guy who'd been eyeing me for half an hour. He didn't hesitate. Took her hand and disappeared behind the curtain without even looking back.

It shouldn't have bothered me.

But it did.

"Want a drink?" Andrea asked, later that night. We were backstage, cooling off.

I shrugged. "Sure."

She handed me a flask. I took a sip, winced.

"Jesus. What is that?"

"Freedom," she said, stretching out on the couch like a cat. "Burns going down, but it does the trick."

I watched her kick her heels off, fishnet-clad legs draped across the cushions. She looked tired. Not in the way sleep could fix - the kind of tired that seeped into your blood.

"I feel like I'm disappearing," I admitted. "Like every night I get a little less visible."

Andrea cracked one eye open. "That's part of it."

"What part?"

"The game. First, they notice you. Then they crave you. Then they forget you. Rinse, repeat."

"That's supposed to comfort me?"

She laughed, sat up, and handed me a cigarette. I didn't smoke, but I held it anyway.

"It's not about comfort, Estie. It's about knowing the rules. You're not here to be seen. You're here to make them think they're seeing you - while keeping the real you locked in a box somewhere deep."

I looked at her. "You ever open your box?"

Andrea grinned, sharp. "Only for fun."

That night, I found her waiting on the fire escape outside our apartment.

She was barefoot, in a silk robe that barely clung to her frame, smoking something stronger than cigarettes. The city below buzzed like a broken neon sign.

"Couldn't sleep," I said.

Andrea tilted her head, eyes narrowed. "You thinking too much again?"

"Always."

She patted the spot beside her. "Come here."

I sat down, the metal cold beneath my thighs. The night air smelled like burnt grease.

Andrea took a long drag, then passed me the joint. I took it. Let it warm my lungs, make everything a little softer at the edges.

"You're doing better than you think," she said. "Even if no one tells you."

I looked at her. "Why do you care?"

She didn't answer right away. Just stared out over the rooftops like they held something worth watching.

"Because once, someone cared enough to keep me from disappearing," she said finally. "I didn't get to keep her. But I never forgot."

A long silence stretched between us.

Then she leaned over, kissed my cheek, and said, "And because I like you better when you're not trying to be strong all the time."

We ended up in her bed that night.

No plan. No slow build.

Just two girls with nowhere to go, trying to forget the things they couldn't outrun. It wasn't tender. It wasn't wild. It was somewhere in between - needy, clumsy, and strangely warm.

Her hands didn't ask permission, but they didn't take anything either. Mine just held on.

Afterward, we lay tangled, sweat cooling, the hum of the city leaking through the cracked window.

"Does this mean something?" I asked.

Andrea pulled the blanket tighter over our hips. "It means we're not alone tonight. That's enough."

And somehow, it was.

The next morning, Luana was gone.

No note. No warning. Just an empty locker and silence.

Whispers spread fast. Some said she ran. Some said Dante sold her off to someone higher up. Others said she fell in love with a regular and left for Vegas.

I didn't believe any of it.

I knew that when girls vanished, the truth didn't matter. Only the silence did.

Andrea didn't speak of her at all.

I caught her staring at Luana's dressing chair once, the same way I looked at myself in the mirror after long nights - like she was trying to find something lost and failing.

We didn't talk about it.

We just kept dancing.

Dante didn't seem bothered by Luana's disappearance.

He just handed me her slot again like it was mine all along. Like the last week never happened.

"You're back on main stage," he said. "Don't fuck it up."

I didn't say thank you.

I just nodded and walked out like my heels weren't shaking beneath me.

***

That night, under the spotlight, I moved differently.

Not harder. Not softer.

Just... realer.

Like I wasn't pretending anymore. Like I'd peeled back another layer and found something underneath worth selling.

Men stared. Tipped more. Some whispered my name like a spell.

Diamond.

Andrea watched from the side curtain. Her arms crossed, mouth tight. Pride or warning - I couldn't tell.

But when I came off stage, she kissed me in the hallway, fast and hungry.

"Don't get used to the top," she whispered. "It's a long fall."

I kissed her back anyway.

Because we both knew the fall was coming.

And neither of us planned to go alone.