Jambalaya

Angeldust

It's unbearably loud in the strip club. My eyes never straying far from the buck with red antlers and sapphire eyes that tell if a knowing secret. A secret that I must unravel. One that gnaws on me to know more. Because there is something familiar about this man. As if I know him. Like my mind recognizes the face bathed in neon lights and refuses to give up in finding out more.

I must know who dis guy is.

Having come here under the guise of slipping into my heels and relaxing with Cherri to blow off some steam by dancing on Amateur night, it seemed appropriate at the time. Now, it feels meaningless after witnessing such a raw performance. The Buck's dance foretold of pain. Of endless sorrow. Its simplicity spoke volumes for what it actually was.

A cry for help.

Dancing is my life. A passion that burns from the inside out. The other half of my job, is...deplorable, but dancing helps me cope with it. It helps me forget what I am. A warm hand clasps my shoulder, startling me out of my thoughts.

"C'mon Ange, let's go sign up." Cherri exclaims, excitement clear in her tone.

"Ya go ahead, suga' tits. I gotta go check somethin'." Eyes glued on the mysterious buck slipping through the crowd, towards the back, I flash her a brief smile that has my gold tooth glinting in the sultry lighting, and begin weaving through the crowd that had gathered to watch the newest performance.

Sweaty bodies pressed together. Jam-packed like sardines in a can. The entire place is like a fucked up rave that stunk to high Heaven like dirty gym socks and moldy cheese. Holding my breath did little to get rid the stench, and I quickly pick up the pace. Hairy flesh rubs and claws poke as I struggle to get by.

Finally after ten minutes, I'm free from the pulsing throng of sinners. Unfortunately, I had also lost sight of the guy.

"Fuck!" I mutter, heading in the direction where I saw him last.

"Hey, performers only!" A burly bouncer barks, ram horns curling close to his thick skull.

"Are ya blind, or jus' dumb? Do ya know who yer talkin' to?!" I immediately launch into the shpeal I usually do whenever I'm refused to enter in certain bars or backstage areas.

"I don't care if you are a famous pornstar. If you don't work here, you don't have access." So he clearly knew who I was. That fact annoyed me even further. Granted, this is an entirely different club and not one I work at, but come on.

"I'm here fer amateur night!" One last desperate attempt to get to the changing rooms backstage. It had to work. It had to!

"Amateur night performers are to change in the alley out back."

"What do ya take me fer? A back door, cheap alley, dollar whore?"

Yellow eyes slide down my body lazily before meeting my gaze. "You sure look like one."

Pale fingers clasp at my chest fluff, magenta eyes flashing angrily. My bottom set of hands flit up my glittering pink skirt and halter top.

"Excuse me, busta'. I am a high class whore. Ya couldn't afford me, honey."

"Like I would want to."

Fingers curl into fists as I glare up at him from tip toes. I'm tall, but this fucker hovered a good foot or two taller than me. The itching urge to grab the small gun strapped to my inner boot, is overwhelming. Too tempting. Turning, I hurry to the back where the amateur performers were to change. It seemed that I had missed my chance to corner the blue buck, so I may as well get changed into my black one piece for when it was my turn on stage.

I shove open the heavy metal exit door, to find the most bizarre sight I've ever seen.

Alastor is leaning against the alley wall, mid process of sliding a red T-shirt on. Crimson gaze downward, he hasn't noticed me yet. My mind screams for me to move. To flee before The Radio Demon sees me. But my legs remain frozen in place, heart racing a mile a minute.

Move, ya idiot!

I still can't move. Why would Alastor be here? It makes no sense.

One foot in front of da other, dumbass!

The many late nights coming back to the hotel exhausted, shortly after I get back from work in the wee hours of the morn. What looked like a smattering of glitter on one cheek, but within a blink, has the evidence gone. At first, I thought I was going crazy. Seeing things that weren't there. But this...this would explain so much. Especially his most recent sour behavior. He was always shifty and crabby, but more so than usual for the past couple months. Now I know why.

"A҈N҈G҈E҈L҈?!?!" Contorted with undertones of screeching static, I jolt at the sound of my name.

Fuck!

Jelly legs finally deciding to work, I whirl on my heel and take off running. Static only rises in volume, grating on already fried nerves and sensitive ears as I stumble down the alley, hoping against hope that I'm able to escape with my limbs intact.
Alastor suddenly appears in front of me, limbs elongating and eyes shifting into menacing radio dials that flicker in tune with my frantically beating heart. His hulking figure blocks the path of escape, and I skid to a stop, gazing up into a very large face with a gaping mouth that could swallow me in one bite.

Well shit...

"Are you scared?" Manic and unhinged, Alastor's tone sounds more horrifying than the charming one he usually uses. This is crazed. Sinister. With hints of warbled static that didn't make a lick of sense. Words become unintelligible and his eyes...

They are dark and beautiful. An endless abyss gazing back at you. Soulless and empty, yet so hauntingly breathtaking. Dreary notes of a song long since forgotten, dances through the air like a graceful spring breeze. Gaping toothy maw, the source of said old timey music.

"Are you scared of me?" A heavy layer of static coated every syllable, yet still sounded awfully tempting even though I’m cornered. Like devilish whispers, woven with temptation.

Shaking hand finding its way up to cup The Radio Demons face, my next words visibly shocks Alastor to his core. "No. I can't take ya seriously when ya have fuckin' glitter eye-shadow on. Which by da way, doesn't look half bad."