Page 71 of Fang
It’s Monday morning, and the last place I want to be is here on campus. I would rather be somewhere else, somewhere with him. The weekend went by too fast. Especially with the way it started out so shitty.
Fang handled it well, though. Or at least I think he did. I expected him to push again to try and convince me to quit dancing, but he didn’t.
My phone dings, so I step off to the side, out of the way of people walking on the sidewalk. I pull it out of my bag and see that I have an email. The only reason I don’t ignore it is because it’s from the professor of my next class.
Students,
Class is canceled for the day due to water pouring out of the ceiling in the classroom. I will let you know when we will meet next. Sorry for the short notice.
Well then, how about that.
While I could go back to my room and catch up on some sleep or even do some homework, there’s somewhere else I would rather be.
The club.
I don’t know if Fang is at work yet, but if he’s not, I can work on a new routine. There’s a song that’s been stuck in my head for days. I just don’t know if I can make it work or not, and my room isn’t big enough for me to choreograph in.
I place my phone back in my bag. Before I can even take a step though, someone shoulder-checks me from behind. It’s all I can do to stop myself from falling.
“What the fuck!” I yell.
“What, I thought you liked spending time on your knees,” Zak sneers.
I have to stop myself from gasping when I see him. His face is fucked to high heaven. Jesus Christ, Fang did a number on him. I know I should feel bad, but I don’t.
“What are you staring at, you whore?” he hisses.
“My man’s handiwork,” I tell him honestly.
“I never would have guessed you were a stripper. You really are just like your momma, huh? Taking your clothes off just to make a buck,” he says.
“Zak, come on, man,” one of his friends says.
His friend tries to grab his shoulder to pull him away, only Zak pulls away from him.
“No, she thinks she’s so much better than me when she isn’t. She dances naked on stage!” Zak yells.
Without thinking about it, I reach out and slap him. My palm hits his face so hard it stings.
“Who the fuck do you think you are to shame a woman for doing whatever it takes to get through school debt-free? I don’t have a mommy and daddy to fall back on Zak. Everything I have, I have because I earned it. Now I’ve told you more than onceto stay the fuck away from me, and I mean it. I will get the authorities involved.”
He scoffs. “They won’t do shit. You know who my parents are.”
“Yeah, well, if they don’t, it’s not like we don’t know who will. Let me tell you, he will do more than fuck up that face of yours.”
Before he can say anything else, I storm off. My hands shake with rage. I don’t want to get the cops involved or the administration, but I might have to. This is becoming too much. I don’t know how much more I can take.
Dance. I need to dance.
Breathing hard, I pop my headphones out as I exit the stage. After the first month here, I learned not to practice new routines with the music playing over the sound system. The girls here are willing to do anything toget a prime spot, and that includes stealing other dancers’ songs and routines.
Working on my new dance helped calm me down, but I still don’t know what to do about Zak. I just hate the thought of making waves. I have this fear that he or his family would retaliate, and I’d be the one to pay for it.
When I step into the locker room, dancers are already getting ready. Like usual, I keep my head down and head toward my locker. When I get to it though, anger rolls through me once again.
On my locker, written in pink lipstick, is the wordprostitute.
“Who did this?” I demand.
