vnNeSsa1 by Lane Tracey

restaurant to meet the other dancers is that we’re underdressed. Lily and the smirker, I mean Jennifer, have on beautiful strapless dresses with heels. By contrast, both Tink and I are in jeans. My customary tank has been traded in for a nicer top, but it’s still not dressy enough. Lily, seeing my discomfort, tries to put me at ease.
    “They’re ready to seat us. You’ll love the food.” She takes my arm and leads me to the host , who seats us at a table overlooking the city lights. Las Vegas is probably one of the only cities that justifies sunglasses at night. All the gaudy sparkle looks beautiful to me. I can’t believe I’m working here.
    Someone comes to the table for our drink orders. The conversation immediately picks up where we left off at rehearsal, on the man in the theat er. We try to find angles we haven’t discussed to death. The others laugh about how he was watching us rehearse. Apparently, he’s an avid fan of dance. Or dancers. I hadn’t noticed. He made me so nervous I couldn’t look at him. Jennifer says she’s determined to find out who he is. Oh, no doubt.
    Drinks delivered, Jennifer reaches for her glass but has to stop to adjust her breasts , which threaten to pop out of her dress. “Don’t feel bad about not dressing right tonight. You’ll catch on. Entertainers here dress up. I don’t know why. They just do.” She takes a sip of her drink, and then plays with an earring.
    “There’s a lot to learn,” I admit. It’s hard to tell whether she’s trying to make us feel worse or better. It’s time to divert the conversation.
    “You’re obviously experienced dancers,” I say, looking at Lily and Jennifer . “Have you ever danced without your tops like some of the dancers do here?” They look at me with startled expressions. Oops, maybe too nosy. Lily rescues me.
    “Well, when I first came to Vegas at eighteen, I would only do the covered line in a show. Then I found out they paid the dancers more in the so-called ‘nude’ line just for showing their breasts. They’re tasteful about it with the costumes and all. When I waited in the wings in the last show I was in, I covered my chest because you can’t have that part of me anywhere but on stage.” She puts her hands over her breasts for emphasis. “The girls are the same in the nude and covered lines. We don’t separate into good and bad people according to which line we’re in.” She smiles when she says this.
    “My parents would kill me if I showed my boobs.” Jennifer stresses this with a particularly strenuous tug on her dress.
    “My parents are OK with it,” Lily counters.
    “What about you, Rachelle? Would you dance without your top?” It takes me a moment to realize Jennifer’s directing her question to Tink.
    “Uh, this friend who’s been helping me says it pays better.” She’s looking at the table the whole time she’s talking. “And like Lily says, there’s no difference between the girls in the nude line and covered line. I suppose I might.” In a hauntingly familiar gesture, she picks up her cocktail napkin and shreds it. I’m struck by how young and vulnerable she looks.
    “Savannah?” My hand sideswipes my drink , nearly knocking it over. Questions make me nervous.
    “Oh, well, I guess it ticks me off that guys don’t have to take their pants off to dance. Why should we have to take off our tops?” They burst out laughing at this.
    “That attitude is not going to get you anywhere. It used to be, to dance a lead role, you had to take your top off. Not that you would get a lead role, but I’m just saying.”
    “Jennifer!” It’s strange to see Lily angry. Her neck gets blotchy and the nostrils of her tiny nose flare.
    “Whether or not I get a lead role isn’t the point, Jennifer,” I say, not willing to let it go. “It’s a shame the art form of dance isn’t enough by itself—for a female, anyway—but a partly naked body has to go along to sell it.”
    “Oh you poor