Vanilla Shake

Our 10 minute free-write prompt for today was "Write a story about a girl named Shake." I wrote longer than 10 minutes.  Closer to 20. But I needed to get some angst out.  So here you go.

Melanie looked down at her hands. They were shaking. Bile rose in her throat and her eyes burned. She smacked the phone down on the receiver.  She was not going to cry here.

Standing up from the bar, she headed back to the dressing rooms, trying to avoid the few lecherous patrons that came here at one o’clock in the afternoon.

It wasn’t until she walked in front of him that she realized Rufus Fletcher was sitting behind a pillar, blocking him from her view.

“Hey, Darlin’,” he said, reaching for her arm.

She pulled it back. “Not now Rufus.”

“What are you so upset about, my sweet Vanilla Shake?” He reached out and grabbed her hips pulling her closer. She hated that nickname and she hated when men thought they owned her just because she put up with their raging hormones for the ridiculous amounts of money she earned here.

“I’m not yours, Rufus,” Melanie told him, removing his hands from her hips.  She turned to go, but he managed to get his hand around her arm this time.  His grip pinched her skin and ground against the bone in her arm.

“You’re mine if I pay you enough money,” he growled, then stuck a stack of ones in top of the black hotpants she was wearing.

She took the ones out and threw them at him. “I’m off the clock.”

She stormed away.  When she finally made it to the dressing room, she hurried to the back and pulled her knees up to her chest.  Resting her head on her knees she tried to take deep breaths to calm herself down.  It didn’t work.  The tears came anyway.

As the sobs wracked her body, she thought about the phone call from the man she thought had loved her, the one who would take her out of this terrible place and push her out of the rut her life had fallen into.

“I’m not coming tonight,” he said when she picked up.

“Why not? Did you get stuck writing reports again? I can come up there after I get off.”

“No, don’t come up here.”

“Okay…”

“Mel,” he stopped. The way he said her name made her stomach drop. “Mel, I just can’t.”

“Can’t what, Josh?”

“I can’t do it. I know my parents love you, and my sisters. And you work so hard. You are amazing. But I want something more.”

“Wait. Are you breaking up with me over the phone?”

“Yeah, Melanie. I gotta go.  I wish you the best.”

“Wait.  Josh…”

And then he had hung up.  

He hung up on her. He wants something more? What the hell does that mean?

Melanie’s tears dried.

What a bastard, she thought, pushing the memories of the sweet things he had so often done for her out of her head.

She couldn’t believe she had trusted him.  She couldn’t believe she had trusted another man after what had happened to her every time she had fallen in love.

She wiped the tears off her face and looked in the mirror.

You don’t need a man, she told herself.  You will be just fine on your own. She smiled and tried to make it look happy in the mirror. You can do this.

She took a deep breath, once again pushing back tears. She didn't believe a word of it.  If Josh wasn't the one, if he really didn't love her, then she was done. No one would ever touch her heart again.  She wouldn't let them.

She walked out to the floor, cementing a smile on her lips, knowing everyone would believe her mask.

They always did.