Raw and Curvy by S.E. Law

1

Mimi

As usual, backstage is loud and crowded. The noise doesn’t really bother me, but having to change in front of every other showgirl who performs at the Wilshire Hotel is my least favorite part of the job. It wouldn’t be so bad, but I’m the only girl here with a bit of extra jiggle, and I swear I can feel their eyes on me every time I undress to get ready for a performance.

Sucking it up, I grab my garment bag and pull out the diamanté one piece leotard we’re wearing for tonight’s show. It’s been a while since I had this costume made, and I’m worried because I’ve gained about ten pounds in the last few months, and these leotards don’t make room for any fluctuations in weight. Goodness. I’ve always been thin, but recently, my appetite has gotten a hold of me and I’ve been eating everything in sight. Pizza, ice cream, chocolate, even chips with guacamole, and it’s so yummy. I love food with all my heart, but now it’s time to pay the piper.

Holding up the leotard in front of me, I frown, trying to judge what it’s going to look like when I get it on, but there’s really no way of knowing. Not with fitted material like this.

Oh well. It’s not like I can run out and get it tailored right now. I make quick work of undressing, then I start getting into the leotard. After a little wiggling, I manage to squeeze into it and walk in front of the mirror to check myself out. It is a little tight, but that’s the least of my worries. What’s important is I can still fit into it, and if I suck my belly in, hopefully none of the other girls will notice.

I pull a chair up and start freshening up my makeup and hair, adding darker eye shadow and giving my curls a bit more bounce. They like things razzle-dazzle at the Wilshire, and I don’t want to let the audience down.

“Mimi!”

My spine stiffens. I don’t have to look to recognize Jewel’s shrill voice. Since they promoted the evil woman to manager, it seems that yelling or shrieking has become the only way she knows how to talk. She must have forgotten what it was like to be just one of the lowly dancers herself, even though she was only promoted a few weeks ago. Not that this should be a surprise, seeing that she’s always loved lording it over us. In fact, Jewel isn’t even her real name. She’s actually plain old Jennifer, but she’d lose her mind if any of us dared to call her that.

“Mimi, come over here this instant,” she snaps.

I squeeze my eyes shut and recite all the reasons I need a job in my mind, then I stand up and force a smile as I walk across the room to see what my manager wants. Even though Jewel’s not a part of the show, she is also wearing a leotard, although hers isn’t covered in diamanté like the rest of ours. No. It’s all black, probably to match her soul, and makes her already rail-thin body practically disappear anytime she’s in a dimly lit room. Seriously, she must survive on nothing more than plain lettuce and water to be so skinny. The biggest thing on her is her blonde hair that she’s wearing in a blowout that makes it look like she walked through a hurricane to get here tonight.

“Hey, Jewel.” I give her my best fake smile. “Did you need something?”

With pursed lips, the older woman takes a step back from me, then runs her eyes up and down the length of my body. I swear the look in her eyes is pure disgust, and I take a small step back, trying to put a little space between me and her obvious disdain.

“I see you’ve gained more weight,” she sniffs.

“Not a lot. I still fit in my costumes, so it can’t be much. Maybe just a pound or two.”

“Huh! That leotard looks like it’s about to pop a stitch.”

I blink, trying to force my tears back. The last thing I want to do is cry in front of this wicked woman. To make things worse, the dressing room has gone quiet, and I see why when I look around. Everyone has stopped getting ready in order to watch Jewel bawl me out.

I try to ignore them, turning back to my manager. “Okay, that’s fine. I get it. I’ll lose the extra weight. I’m sure it won’t take long if I work out and eat right.”

Jewel gives a small shake of her head. “That won’t be necessary. There are hundreds of other girls who would love to take your place tonight.”

“But…”

The blonde woman merely shrugs.

“I am not here to argue with you. You’re fired, Mimi. Sorry, but this is a competitive position, and we can’t have our girls looking like cows.” Then, Jewel holds her hand up and snaps her fingers dramatically. As soon as she does, a young woman I’ve never seen before steps from behind the curtain, as if this were a magic show. She’s skinny and blonde, just like Jewel, and even worse, she’s already dressed in tonight’s costume.

Jewel steps around me, clearly dismissing me, and announces to the rest of the room, “Hey everyone, this is Arianna. She’ll be replacing Mimi. Martina, show Arianna to her station, okay? And help her with that fake spray tan because Arianna, you’re looking a little pale.”

For a minute I’m frozen. This can’t be happening. Was I really just fired in front of all my co-workers, and my replacement trotted out for everyone to see? But then I feel the tears, and I know I’m not going to be able to hold them back, so I grab my bag and rush out of the room. As soon as I step outside the Wilshire, my resistance disintegrates, and tears start rolling down my face as I make my way through the parking lot. But my days as a showgirl aren’t over, I vow. I’ll show them that Mimi Richardson’s made of stronger stuff.

* * *

The drive homewith tears blinding me wasn’t ideal, but I’m just glad to be home. Okay, my tiny studio apartment in Atlantic City doesn’t look like much, but it’s private and I’m grateful.

I let myself inside and toss my bag and keys on the small table that sits between my kitchen and bed area. Then I fall face down on the mattress, not even bothering to remove my make-up before crying my eyes out onto my pillows. I’ll have to wash the case after this because my mascara is probably turning it soot black, but right now I couldn’t care less.

I cry until my eyes feel puffy, but the tears continue to come. Finally, they abate a little and I sit up, my shoulders slumped. Exhaustion weighs on me like a heavy fog, and I almost fall back down on the mattress again. But then I decide I need to do something about this.

I force myself out of bed to get my phone from my bag outside, and then crawl back in bed. This time I huddle under the blankets, and pull them up to my chin, practically cocooning myself, before pressing dial.

Jemima has been my friend for the past couple years, ever since I started at the Wilshire. She works as a receptionist and I work as a showgirl, but most of the employees know each other in passing, and we always got along really well. But Jemima’s not working at the moment because she’s on maternity leave. In a crazy turn of events, she fell in love with the hotel’s Senior VP, Bruce Wilshire himself, and now they’re married with a baby.

“Hey girl,” Jemima answers easily. “What’s up?” She’s got her son over one shoulder and she smiles beatifically as he lets out a big burp.

“Hey. Are you busy with Oliver?”

“No. He’s fed and happy, but I just can’t bring myself to put him down. He’s so cute, and I swear I want to hold him and just watch him all the time.”

A loud sniffle rips free from my face before I can stop it. I don’t want to worry Jemima while she’s got her baby in her arms, but it’s too late now. She’s already heard my sorrow.

“What’s wrong, Mims?” she asks with a concerned expression.

“Just a rough day,” I manage to stammer out. “Nothing much.” I can tell her more when she’s not holding Oliver. But my friend won’t let it go.

“Uh uh. Don’t even try it. I know you better than that, girlfriend. Besides, you’d never let me pull that if our roles were reversed.”

She’s right, and I know I can’t lie to her. I did call her because I wanted to vent, and Jems always been there for me. “I just don’t want to disturb you while you’re taking care of Oliver.”

“No, no, it’s fine! The baby won’t know what we’re saying and he’s as happy as a clam right now. Now spill.”

I blow out a long breath. “I got fired today.”

My friend’s forehead scrunches. “What do you mean? Fired from the Wilshire? That’s got to be a mistake. You’re great at what you do, and the audience always loves you.”

“Yeah, well, apparently being a good showgirl doesn’t matter if you’re fat.”

Jem looks outraged now.

“You are not fat! Who the hell told you that?”

I sigh.

“My manager Jewel. She made some rude remarks about my weight in front of all the girls, and when I offered to slim down, she said not to bother. Jem, she already had my replacement waiting in the wings. Some chick named Arianna who’s ten years younger and twenty pounds lighter. Jewel snapped her fingers, and this girl appears out of nowhere, already in costume, looking thin enough to be blown off stage the first time someone in the audience sneezes.”

Jemima frowns angrily while patting her baby. “You want me to talk to Bruce about it? My husband doesn’t usually get involved in HR, but this sounds bad, and I know he can fix it.”

I shake my head. “No. Jemima. Please don’t say anything to him.”

She shakes her head.

“Why not? Mims, you’re my best friend, and I just happen to be married to a man who runs the company we work for. I can take care of this for you. Trust me, Jewel will be the one without a job when Bruce hears what she said to you.”

I sigh.

“I appreciate it, but please don’t get Bruce involved because it’ll only make me look worse. Getting fired for gaining weight, and then running to my friend to have her pulls strings with her hubby isn’t something that will shine any kind of a good look on me. I don’t know that I could face all those girls again, anyways. Not after Jewel talking to me like that.”

Jemima frowns.

“Okay, I get it, sweetie. But if you change your mind, just say the word and that woman will be out on her ass.”

I smile a little. “You’re a good friend, Jemima.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she quips with a smile.

“I promise, I won’t.” We’re both quiet for a moment, but then the lump in my throat starts to thicken again. “OMG Jem, what am I going to do about rent? I already live paycheck to paycheck, and my rent in due in a couple weeks. I have no idea how I’m going to come up with the money to pay it.”

I suck in a sharp breath, trying to hold back the sobs threatening to wrack my body again. If I break down like I did before and Jemima hears it, there will be no way for me to stop her from getting Bruce involved.

“Oh, honey,” my buddy’s voice is soft. “We’ll figure that out together, okay? You know I have plenty now, and I’m willing to help, so don’t worry about money right now. Everything is raw and hurting at the moment, and you need to give yourself some time tonight to just take care of yourself.”

“What do you mean?” I sniffle.

Jem throws me a sympathetic look.

“I mean take care of you for a change. Draw yourself a bubble bath. Watch your favorite movie in your favorite pajamas, or read the latest romance novel you’ve been dying to get your hands on. Something that makes you feel good and lifts your spirits!”

I sniffle again.

“I did just get some new bath bombs and a new natural blueberry wine I haven’t tried yet.”

“There you go. A bubble bath and bottle of wine sounds like exactly the right way to take care of yourself tonight. Have an extra glass of wine for me while you’re at it, won’t you?”

I smile because I really am lucky to have such a wonderful friend. “You’re right. I might even make it a candle lit bubble bath, with Scandalous Affairs by J.M. McCroy. It’s going to be awesome because you know how much I love historical romance. Thanks, Jem.”

My friend giggles.

“Anytime. And by the way, I just read Scandalous Affairs, and the hero is quite the rake! I swear, he has his clothes off more often than on.”

That makes me smile.

“Then I’ll definitely have to get to it.”

My friend giggles again while bouncing her baby.

“Now that’s the Mimi we know and love. Go to it, girl. We’ll talk later, okay?”

I nod, and we say our goodbyes before hanging up. But once the phone clicks off, the depression returns and my shoulders slump once more. Maybe I need more than a fictional rake to push me out of this hole. Maybe I need a real one. The question is, where would I find such a sexy hero?