Ophelia.

01. Sugar, Sugar.

Ophelia Samson.

"Ophelia! Get up there!" Gale raised his voice over the loud chatter and music from across the bar. His dark, aged eyes were always so angry, but he meant well. He took me in as his own, so everything he asked of me, I did with gratefulness. I was still serving customers at the bar and I had been excitedly waiting all night for my set. I put down the glasses that I had been drying and stopped all of my daydreaming altogether. I was going to perform my ass off for my future scout.

"You got it!" I raised my voice equally as loud with a bright smile. I looked in front of me, drunk customers waiting for their fill of alcohol, others talking amongst themselves enjoying the loud music. The club was mostly dark, but illuminated by lights in certain areas such as the stage, the bar and the way to the restrooms.

I leaned over the counter talking to the customers that had been sitting at the bar. "Sorry folks, it's my set now." I explained loudly over the music. "Mischa is on her way to serve you all. Hang in there...and stay awake. Go dance!" I joked with a big smile, emitting laughs and slurs from the customers. I untied the apron around my waist, throwing it under the table before shoving my sneakers and socks off and changing into to the black knee-high heels I left on the side, handy for my performance. I lifted up the bar partition, allowing myself out and making my way to the stage before being stopped by a disoriented looking Gale. He grabbed my arm, whispering in my ear.

"Make it a show tonight. That scout is here right now and he has been waiting for you."

I looked back at him and watched as he raised his eyebrows, letting me know what he was talking about. My heartbeat picked up immediately, adrenaline taking its course through my veins. Gale had told me that he set up a scout to come see me perform, but the scout never showed up all of the three times we had planned for him to come. He is profoundly popular here in Macintyre, so him not making it the last few times was quite understandable. Cristian Salvatore, is his name.

I nodded profusely. "When is it never a show?" I feigned confidence, my best smile plastered across my face.

Gale's stressed eyes softened and he shot me a smile equally as bright, keeping his hand on my shoulder. "That's my girl!" He exclaimed. He pushed me towards the direction of the stage, and I made my way up to the backstage. Each step I took, the more nervous I got. Whenever I got on stage, I channeled my nervous feelings into energy. I called her Sugar, as did everyone else. It was what made me a successful performer. I never seemed to be shy, or nervous performing the way that I did in front of large crowds. I finally made it behind the stage, curtains drawn. I quickly stripped out of my clothes, grabbing my performing suit from the hanger, stepping into the black one piece. It was busy around me, people hurrying to the stage and touching up their makeup.

"Zip me up! Carly!" I called on to Carly because she was the first person I saw. A deep red mess of curls scrambled to my side struggling to zip the back of my suit up.

"Thank you so much." I huffed. I had so much nervous energy that I couldn't think properly.

"Not a problem. It's done. Let's kill it," she giggled. She grabbed my hand and we rushed to the stage. Dancers both male and female were rushing to their positions around me. This was a number that never ever failed to excite the crowd, but it was only performed a few times. The noise outside the curtain was deafening. The club was huge in New York City and was full just about every opening day.