RISE OR SHINE
I grab my phone from my desk when it dings, my fingers and palm spread over the screen.
“Who’s that?”
I stare at the screen. I should have shut off notifications. At least on this app. But then I’d have missed this message.
See you tonight after the show, right?
I suppress a smile. Hallie. Clutching the phone tight in my hands, making sure that the screen isn’t visible by anyone but me, I click on the kinky social media app many of Donovan’s members use and type Absolutely! back.
Good. Just be warned, zombie girl: I bite back.
I’m counting on it. I slide my phone back into my bag.
“Who was that?”
I blink. I’d forgotten Keith was still here. I shrug. “No one. Just a friend.” The words feel awful in my mouth. Hallie is so much more than that. But Keith wouldn’t understand. Maybe he would have—would have at least tried—a few years ago. But now…
I’m not sure anymore. He feels different now. The world feels different now. There was a time where I’d have laid my life on the fact that family meant more to my brother—to my parents—than anything else. That, for me, for my happiness, they’d have been able to see past politics and religion. But now.
I know I should just come out. Should have done it years ago. But, as bisexual, it hadn’t felt necessary. For a long time, I’d been attracted to both men and women, but really only dated men. So why come out, when it would just complicate things unnecessarily?
But then I met Hallie.
It should have made things simpler. Now there was a reason to come out. I want to be with her. To do that—to really, honestly, fully do that—I need to come out. And, what’s worse, I know—I just know—if my family got to know her, they’d love Hallie with her sweet demeanor, easy laugh, and tenacious strength.
But I met her at Donovan’s. Which, until recently, hadn’t felt like it was anyone’s business but my own. My government doesn’t need to know and my brother and parents certainly never need to know.
But where does that leave Hallie? Suppose that Keith and our parents could accept Hallie as my girlfriend, how do we answer basic questions like “Where did you two meet?” How could I ever hope to explain my family to Hallie? To my friends at Donovan’s?
And, God, what about my job? If anyone at work found out that I’m a member of Donovan’s, that I perform at that club, that I’m dating someone from the club—dating a woman from the club—I’d be ruined. Everything I’ve ever worked for, wasted. Even if my party is a mess at the moment—going through some strange growing pains—one day, hopefully soon, it’ll go back to what it once was. Won’t it? It has to. And, when it does, I want to be in position to make a real difference. If I walk away now, will I still be able to do that? To do everything I’ve hoped for?
And, dear God, if my friends at Donovan’s ever found out where I work—who I work for—I can’t even imagine what they’d think. Would they hate me? Think I’m some kind of traitor for holding my nose through all the hateful rhetoric and spiteful politics, that I despise and am disgusted by, in exchange for my hopes for economic reform that could save or at least help struggling people like my parents? Would they question my convictions, thinking my concerns over long-term debt mean nothing in the face of appalling present-day policies that threaten their freedoms and safety right now?
But what scares me most is that they could be right.
No. It’s best to just keep everything the way it is. I hate Rosen and what he’s done to my world, but he won’t be president forever. I, just like the rest of the world, simply have to get through this administration. I just have to keep my eye on the future. Keep my family and work life out of my personal life and keep Donovan’s and Hallie out of my everyday life. It’s not perfect—not even ideal—but what other choice do I have?
———
“Rebel!” Elin the stage manager of Donovan’s Burle-Q Burlesque Troupe hisses, “The Risen number’s up next.”
I breathe out deep and slip my phone into my bag before standing tall on wobbly heels. I fix my long, brunette wig, fluffing the bangs over my grotesque zombie gore makeup as I lean in close to the mirror.
Showtime.
I’ve been performing as Rebel Rouser, a Russian Bettie Page, a doe-eyed devushka with a heavy accent and too many stilted A-meri-kan idioms, for nearly five years now. It’s a fun escape to play the clueless tourist or the tough-as-nails, sexy-bitch spy. To step into a role so different from myself.
But, since the election, the Burle-Q girls had been performing as The Risen, sexy Rosen-supporting zombies who shimmy and shamble aimlessly over the stage losing limbs and clothes throughout the dance. A real crowd pleaser.
Stripped of my usual conservative suit or Stepford sweater set, I hardly look like myself. With ample cleavage showing and my long legs exposed by the torn “We Shall Rise” dress, the woman I’d been earlier that day—the prim and proper campaign aide—all but disappeared. With the dark wig and heavy makeup, I couldn’t recognize myself at all.
It’s almost frightening how easy it is to lose yourself. To erase all traces of the life you’ve built and the person you’ve become. A change of clothes, different hair, some makeup, and a brand new person’s born.
Which is the point.
Cady Carrington doesn’t exist in Donovan’s. In fact, outside a very well-protected file kept under digital lock and key, that part of my life has no ties to the club or any of its shady clientèle. And there are a whole bible of rules and regulations keeping it that way. Cameras, video, and recorders of any kind outside of the club’s sanctioned security are strictly forbidden. Anyone caught outing or telling on any fellow member is banned.
Donovan’s believes in privacy for its clients above all else. With all their efforts—not to mention my own—the two halves of my life remain completely separate.
Sighing, I blink at the image in the mirror and wonder who the hell I’m looking at.
“Rebel!” Elin calls. “Cue’s up in ten.”
I adjust my props—a detachable zombie arm and breast—and rush out of the dressing room to the stage wings.
The other girls are in place, making last-minute adjustments to costumes and props.
Elin hands out mic packs and says in a hushed whisper, “Good luck, girls, knock ‘em dead.”
The lights dim as the other performers clear the stage and we take our places. As the eerie music starts and the lights come up, I blink, blinded by the brightness. But soon my eyes clear and then—the first sight I see is her.
Hallie.
Smiling that brilliant, beautiful smile, she’s clapping, cheering us on. Cheering me on.
Hallelujah.
As we go through the routine—a mix of old school vaudeville humor, tawdry striptease, and good old fashioned bump and grind—all I see, all I can think of, is Hallie.
Even after the show is done and all the yocks have been had, I still can’t get her out of my head.
She’s so stuck in my head that I don’t even notice her watching me while I take off my makeup and change out of my costume. But, when I look up, there she is reflected back at me in the full-length mirror.
“Great show,” she purrs, her Southern belle tone drawing out the sound. “As always.”
“I’m,” I say, suddenly flustered and nervous as I futz with the edges of my robe, trying to decide whether to close it or not, “so glad you could come.”
“Well, you know me,” she drawls as she saunters close, snaking a hand beneath my robe to grasp my hip. “I rarely pass up the opportunity to come...”
Please check out the rest of this story in this exciting anthology from Supposed Crimes!
"These talented storytellers captured womanhood, and women on stage and screen, in all their beautiful, wonderful glory. These are the ones that made me laugh and cry and want to sing. There are erotic and sensual tales, gender non-conformity, trans women, lesbians and bisexuals, politics, falling in love, parenting, youthful crushes, opera, toe-tapping musical numbers, death-defying stunts, humor, and more. This anthology is a celebration." - AM Leibowitz, Editor.
Stories Included:
Presenting the Revial of Jan, Aila Alvina Boyd - Years after blowing her Broadway debut, a former actress is convinced by the playwright to come out of retirement in order to revive the role that pushed her to the brink of insanity.
The Helsinki Incident, Renee Young - After an unexpected, erotic encounter with a mysterious and beautiful stranger, the lead guitarist of a band touring mining outposts across the solar system rediscovers her love of music.
I, Stage Manager, Marolyn Krasner - A short love story about a stage manager, eccentric theater types, a kooky best friend, and leather daddies.
End of an Era, Althea Blue - In the years leading to the death of the silent film, many careers were ended prematurely. But do we really know everything there was to know about the silent stars who faded away?
Knife’s Edge, Geonn Cannon - Amid the insanity of the circus, Arlie and Ru must place absolute trust in each other. Arlie trusts that the blades will hit their intended target, while Ru trusts that Arlie won't flinch. It would only take the smallest of mistakes to destroy that trust.
I Think I’m Gonna Like It Queer, Allison Fradkin - Theatre is an ensemble of inflection, projection, and rejection. So when 16-year-old Reyna—a performer who's part prima donna, part dreamgirl next door—desires a duet with Melinda, the ingénue who plays her best friend, she can't just run and tell that. Or even run and tell Melinda. But with the arrival of a triply threatening romantic rival, it's five to places and ten to one that Reyna had better act on her feelings before the curtain closes on her chances.
London Lark, JL Merrow - Repairing a salvaged automaton becomes a labour of love for apprentice tinkerer Harriet Hodgkins. But the clockwork coquette is destined for resale, and Miss Pandora’s restoration will signal their separation—unless Hodgkins can engineer a more auspicious ending.
Prima Donna, Kathleen Jowitt - Everybody knows why the great Signora Valli left the Licorne opera company. Everybody, that is, except Monsieur Perret, who's taken the brave - some would say foolish - decision to cast her opposite rising star Delphine Vincent-Leclerc in Rossini's Tancredi. But what everybody knows is only half the story.
Oh No She Didn’t!, Debbie McGowan - Once upon a time, in the not so faraway land of small-town amateur dramatics, there lived a widow called Marcy and her beautiful, grown-up daughter, Ginny…
Rise or Shine, Sonni de Soto - What is Cadence Carrington to do? Her public life is colliding fast with her private persona, when her boss at the governor's office sets his eye on shutting down the club she secretly performs burlesque at as featured dancer and femme fatale, Rebel Rouser. It's only a matter of time before she's found out, but the question is will she choose Cady's steady, straight-laced life or will she choose to be the Rebel she knows she is at heart?
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