Previously: I Can't Even Thread a Needle
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[Explicit content, obviously.]
X.
Nomi went back to the Cheetah. The day was typical, nothing out of the ordinary. She wasn’t really like the other girls. She wasn’t really a stripper. She just was wiping down after a lapdance, heading backstage when someone touched her arm. It was Phil Newkirk, the guy who was in there with Cristal and Zack. Oh no, she thought.
“I’m sorry,” Phil apologized for startling her, and for the patriarchal oppression that created places like this. “Do you remember me?” he asked.
Nomi remembered him.
“There’s a spot in the chorus line. We’re auditioning tomorrow morning. Maybe you want to try out.”
Nomi says nothing.
Then she says, “Me?”
Phil grinned. “Yea, you.”
“You came down here to ask me?”
“I saw you dance, I thought …"
“She sent you, didn't she?”
“Nobody sent me. Be there at ten.”
Phil walked out. Obviously, Nomi knew where there was.
Later that night, she barged into her and Molly’s trailer.
“What’s the matter?” asked Molly, coming out of the shower.
But that’s the thing. Nothing was the matter. It was EVERYTHING THAT MATTERED!
The next morning, Nomi arrived at the Stardust, armed with her wet look tights and wrap top.
In the hallway to the stage, she passes a man who says, “Hey, Pollyanna!”
What did he say? “What did you call me?”
“You look like Pollyanna.” said the man. If he meant the Haley Mills character, she kinda did. Especially the part where Pollyanna wore wet look tights and high heels. She took one look at the rest of the women on stage and runs back to a mirror. TIME TO SEX IT UP.
Nomi ran back into the line just as an angry man walked up to the group.
“Ladies, I'm Tony Moss, I produce the show. Some of you've probably heard that I'm a prick. I am a prick. I got one interest here, and that's the show. I don't care whether you live or die. I want to see you dance and I want to see you smile. I don't need you if you can't smile. I don't need you if you can't show it. I don't need you if you can't sell it.”
Oh a riddle! But Nomi’s wasn’t good at riddles. Unless the riddle was dancing.
“Spread out, ladies, let me look at you,” said Tony.
They spread out across the vast stage, the spotlights on each of them. All lined up like a row of stray dogs at the shelter.
Marty Jacobsen, adorned in the beautiful cardigan sweater his husband made for him, joined Tony. He had come to Vegas with big dreams of producing a show, but he found himself under the disgusting thumb of Tony Moss. Tony Moss who every day, described his disgusting sexual encounter with a woman in detail. It was enough to make a man gay. Which, luckily, he was.
Antonio Moss, Jr., Tony kept repeating to himself. That’s my name. No one can know my true identity. Don’t fuck this up. But here, he was Tony. Tony who never met a girl he didn’t disgust. Never met a guy he couldn’t make feel inferior.
Tony stepped up to the first girl. She oozed desperation. Here, though, desperation was currency. Just not the right kind. “Jesus Christ, look at these tits, Marty.” Marty looked. “What are these, watermelons? This is a stage, babe, it ain't a patch. See ya.” Tony was glad he took those comedy classes at Second City.
The next girl looked like his daughter. Or was it the barista at Bigby Coffee?
"I've seen you before, right?”
“Yes, Mr. Moss. I auditioned in January. You told me to get my nose fixed,” said Bigby Girl.
“Nose looks good.”
“Thank you, Mr. Moss.”
“Nice smile, too. “
“Thank you, Mr. Moss.” Her smile never reached her eyes.
Tony knew when to go in for the kill. “You know what, though? Your ears are stickin' out. They are. Come back and see me when you get 'em fixed. See ya. “
And just like that, he crushed another dream. But he was only getting started. He needed the power, the feel of their humiliation. He fed off of it. He needed it. THEY needed it. That was his mission.
In a blur of assholery, he pinched the other girls’ stomachs, insulted their short hair, the amount of training they had. It was all too much. Or not enough? It was like Tony had one bite and he was buried in the trough.
The girl walks offstage, passing someone walking in. Cristal. She slinks into the audience like the cat she is.
Tony gets to line in front of Nomi. “What kind of classes had you had?”
“I haven’t had any classes.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I’m watching you be a prick.” She smirks. Reverse sexism!
It worked. Tony grins. “You ain’t seen nothing yet!”
The few remaining girls did the routine again, although they were dancing for their lives! Tony picks them off one by one. He gets to Nomi. “And I want you.”
Nomi exhaled. It’s really happening!
“Thank you, ladies. You wasted my time and yours,” he said to the others. He did them a favor. He couldn’t let their self-esteem hold them back.
“Now,” said Tony. “Show me your tits.”
The dancers stood in shock. Tony loved this part.
“We’ve got a topless show for Christ’s sake! Let me see your tits!”
Invoking the Lord and savior worked, as Nomi and the other two girls took off their tops.
Tony examined their breasts like he was in a lab. Beakers were poured; microscopes employed.
He made them do the dance again. It was harder, more painful. Less supported.
“I want feel those uteruses stretching!”
Nomi guessed she does know how to stretch her uterus because Tony cut the music.
“You got something wrong with your nipples?” he asked Nomi.
Well, they did kind of look lopsided, but…
“They’re not sticking up. Stick ‘em up!”
“What?”
“Play with ‘em a little bit.”
Nomi hesitates and then starts playing red rover with them.
“Pinch 'em a little. You want me to do it for you, I'll do it.”
She switched to kickball.
“I’m erect, how come you’re not?” He had used that line in his Groundlings audition “Marty! Bring the ice!”
Marty, who has seen more breasts than a delivery ward, brings the ice cubes over. His grandfather was at Stonewall. Now he was here. Tony holds them out to Nomi.
That was enough. This was like when Molly asked her where she lives and she threw the fries. She knocks the ice out of his hands and runs away. Cristal and Tony watched her go.
“I called that one right. See ya, Pollyanna!” said Tony. Pollyanna was his favorite Hayley Mills movie where she didn’t play twins.
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