Eyes of the Artist (Final Fantasy XV FanFiction) DISCONTINUED

Chapter 22: I'm Not Meant for Dancing

       

After getting home and snacking on a bag of chips (yes, I actually ate something), I tell the guys that I'm heading to bed early. However, once I'm in my room, I sink to the ground and lean against the door. The pain in my hands, feet, and joints is awful, yet as I stare at the darkening sky, I know I'm going to have to face the fact: I need to go to the night club, and either get fired from my job without even doing anything, or I'm going to dance until my cuts open again. Trust me, Tony isn't a very reasonable or forgiving person.

As darkness finally settles over the city, leaving me in its folds, I stand up again. Creaking the door open, I once again confirm the absence of any being other than myself. I step out carefully, already feeling as if I had walked a thousand miles from the pounding... but I can't let that get in the way. If I don't work, then I can't keep inventory or clean my clothes - don't even ask about how much refills on medication are going to require.

Stupid greedy pharmacists.

I speed walk in the dark, grey world of the night, turning this way, then that way, once more searching for that little hole in the wall. Once there, I notice that the normal security guard, a rather lean boy with dirty blonde hair, stood at the post, grey eyes scanning in boredom. I stiffen at the sight, realizing who exactly is Tony's new security guard.

Suspicious steel meets cool hazel, as I walk over purposefully.

"Need help, Missy?" he asks emotionlessly. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to recognize me in the dark.

"The name's Marigold - I believe Tony is expecting me." Blunt and straightforward, exactly what I do best.

The boy sneers. "Since when does Mr. Marco hire street rats like you?"

"Since street rats have proven their worth."

"You're a liar - you think I don't know your kind?" he scoffs. "Get outta here, before I get the boss."

"Go ahead, see what happens," I smirk confidently.

With a fierce glare, he grabs me by my upper forearm and quickly drags me into the noisy building, quickly locating "the boss" over by the bar.

"This chick says she's the new girl, Marigold," he states angrily and bluntly.

Tony glances at me, and grins. "Yes, excellent! Glad you could make it, Mari. You and two others will be dancing tonight - Poppy and Periwinkle. Costumes ready, so go!"

"But-"

"Not now, Jonathan - go back to your post," The larger man quickly dismissed the boy, confirming my fears. "Now, Marigold, let's get you to the girls' room."

As the club owner leads me through the door behind the bar, I can feel the guard's eyes burning into the back of my skull - however, I don't have time to consider his identity at the moment.

Upon entering the quieter and warmer room, I'm immediately greeted by a small woman with brown hair and warm brown eyes. "Marigold, right? I can see why Mr. Marco chose you for the part. Please follow me so you can get ready." Answering not being an option, I'm quickly pulled further towards the back, not having time to notice the other two girls, and am shown a horrendous dress.

My Marigold costume is mostly bright red, consisting of a strapless sweetheart top and an unbelievably short skirt that consisted entirely of ruffles, edged lightly yet clearly in a golden-yellow color - obviously matching the flower. The bodice of the top is low enough to worry me about what could possibly be seen if I move too much, and if the ruffles are all that's protecting me from pervs, then I'm doomed. However, once I come out of the tiny changing room and back into the main room, the brunette is quick to give me a horrified look before rushing out the door, leaving me standing in all of my scarred and bandaged glory.