#jo; ruby

More often than not, a lot of Jo’s job felt like a ridiculous cliche; the clientele was almost exactly what she’d be anticipating (and warned about), the pay was the largest thing holding her to it. More often than not, it all felt very contrite, and on the nights she had to wait to be escorted to her car, she was left with time to think about it. Feeling just slightly annoyed--or maybe more impatient--Jo leaned against the brick wall of the building as she waited for the rest of the girls to finish. After closing, everyone needed to be escorted, and since most of whatever she danced in could very easily be concealed--that was the point, after all--she was always the quickest to be ready, content on washing off the night once she got home. She always took the free minute to smoke.

With a cigarette perched between two fingertips, her other hand occupied by mostly-strangers on her Instagram feed, Jo scrolled mindlessly, double clicking when she felt it necessary, listening to the chatter of the rest of the crew inside through the door to the alleyway. Everyone found their own way home, usually, though a few carpooled; with the shift in weather, Jo had begun riding again, something she hadn’t done in a while. Still, her bike was parked in the lot, and everyone needed to get there together, should some overenthusiastic guy decide he wanted to take an after party elsewhere. 

She was so accustomed to the ruckus of the fellow dancers, constantly seeming to exist solely on Redbull and coffee, that she almost didn’t hear it at first. Lowering her phone, Jo slowly rose her head, a hesitant gaze surveying her surroundings. She couldn’t see anyone, which was both a positive and negative. But there was, indeed, shouting. 

And it wasn’t...right. 

Before she could turn on the flashlight to check anything, however, she reached into the duffel slung over her shoulder and carefully unzipped the pocket that held the mace she’d been “gifted” her first day by the rest of the girls, as part of some weird care package/welcome gift. She turned the screen of her phone off, instead taking it in her empty palm, her finger hovering over the power button, ready to prompt the SOS button if need be. And then--stupidly, obviously--she moved toward the sound.

She was met with an unexpected sight, though not one she was unaccustomed to; belligerent man, uninterested girl. But this girl wasn’t one of the Club’s; Jo had never seen her, and while she was obviously beautiful, she wasn’t the kind of beautiful that needs to dance for strange men to throw money at them. She cowered a bit under the man’s menacing stature, his body nearly pressing into her as she backed away. The girl had nearly been pinned to the wall. 

Jo kept a firm grip on the mace.