The Girl They Sold to the Moon by Chris Stevenson Read Free Book Online

everything into it, exaggerating the moves, hitting every beat, pausing for effect. She could feel the vibration of the air speakers pumping the staccato base beats, the throb of the drums, the full symphony blasting away. A few dozen men came out of their seats to stand and gawk. Three men staggered down the aisle, drinks in hand, eyes on the lithe girl in the zombie makeup. Five, then ten minutes of accelerating energy passed.
    Just before her end sequence, Tilly danced up to the end of the rail. The overhead lights cutout, replaced by blue neon floods. She froze, then she kicked off her shoes, sending them flying out into the crowd. She grabbed her hat and pitched it into the air. With a stark yank, she pulled the breakaway suit form her body, revealing a sheer string bikini underneath. She dropped into the splits and threw her head back, flipping her hair just as the music hit a dramatic crescendo.
    It started in a wave from one end of the arena to the other; nearly all the audience members rose to get to their feet. Those who couldn’t stand due to inebriation were hoisted upright by their fellows. Hands came together in applause, fists pounded tabletops. Tilly swore she heard glassware breaking somewhere. Men bellowed her stage name. Others flocked to the rail, jockeying for a view of the new girl. Tilly ate it up, giving them an open-mouthed smile, winking at the flushed faces. She performed a back roll somersault and sprung to her feet, taking a deep bow. All manner of items were thrown onto the stage, including notes, flowers, room keys, hats, even a few toupees. Then hard objects rained down on her, pelting her from every direction. She covered her head and ducked. She glanced down and saw some objects roll to a stop.
    Gold Imperials.
    Tilly knew better than to pick them up, since they would be gathered by mining company personnel. Too bad—she’d earned every one of them. Some of the men’s voices broke through the din.
    â€œHow’s about your pubicle in my cubicle, baby!”
    â€œYou belong to Papa Dog tonight!”
    She back-shuffled when she saw men swarming over the rail. A shoving match ensued. Punches were thrown. Bar police fought their way through the crowd, but a few of them went down in a tangle of arms and legs. A screech alarm pierced the air. The stage and audience lights brightened. Several men upended their tables, knives and forks caught in the gleam of the overhead lights.
    Tilly backed up into the curtains. A hand reached out and grasped her by the wrist. Pulled through the partition, she recognized her rescuer as the magician Buddy Gunner Bell. “There are no encores when something like this happens,” he said urgently. “You vanish. Get on the lift!”
    Tilly did as she was told and jumped on the disk. She dropped to the basement a few seconds later. Some of the gold Imperials fell down the lift shaft, clinking on the pavement. Sue Lin grabbed her by the arm and ran her to the wardrobe area. Anarchy reigned above—thuds and knocks, the siren screaming. Sue Lin sat Tilly in a chair and wiped her brow. Some of the actors and singers gathered around her chair. A few pointed at her. Most of them stared in dumb silence.
    Tilly clapped her hand to her cheeks. “Things went nuts all of a sudden!”
    â€œIt happens sometimes,” said Sue Lin. “But nothing like this, ever. I knew you were good, but not
that
good.”
    â€œWell that’s too bad. I have to get ready for the next act.”
    â€œNo, too dangerous. We’ll have to wait for the all clear.” Sue Lin looked behind her toward the corridor leading to the lift. “You just brought the house down, old style, girl.” Sue Lin looked at the floor. She had a coin stuck in the seam of her shoe. She kicked it up, catching it deftly in her hand. “A thousand dollar Imperial,” she said, aghast. “With any luck the tip intake will cover the damages and injuries.