~*~*~Angelia~*~*~ :::Chapter One::: -- Fictional Getdown

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Date Posted: 11:59:29 11/12/02 Tue
Author: Tiffany
Subject: ~*~*~Angelia~*~*~ :::Chapter One:::

This is an experiment...

The last of the winter chills passed over Nashville as the city slept in its cloak of prejudice and discrimination. Their eyes are all blind to the struggles of others, their stingy hands in their pockets. No one cares. And if generosity lands in the hands of the needy�light as a feather�the city's greed will absorb it until it's gone with the wind. Swept up into the air until it mingles with the nomadic pigeons.

Lying on the outskirts of downtown, past the city's Greyhound station�past the expressway�past the churches where God is said to save his lost children, sits a conservative Gentlemen's Club called Intimate Performances. In Nashville, it was the only 'strip club' to go to. If you were in town for a day or so...most likely a traveling musician�then you could seek happy times and happy nights and Intimate Performances. Expensive? Most definitely. But the girls were, so men raved, were only of top caliber. Classy not trashy.

Samantha Mitchell never felt classy. Every night when she strutted on her stage in her Dolce and Gabana thong and Prada boots, she felt more and more trashy. The night would grow older as the men progressed with the evening, Samantha danced a little slower, often times wondering if one day, perchance, her father would walk through those doors. Surely, a shock as great as the one Samantha would cause would kill him. Not only would she be alive and well to him but she'd also be a stripper. However far away from home she was, nothing could ever shame her family more than a daughter as 'duplicitous' as Samantha.

But money was wanted and greatly needed. While 'Angelia' danced on stage and appeared as carefree and nonchalant about everything�offstage, Samantha struggled with the tuition of her extremely expensive school. Grants and partial scholarships helped some but the fifteen hundred more she had to pay per semester, set her back quite a bit. But one pays the price for going to Vanderbilt University; Ivy League was never said to be cheap. So, she dances to keep her life relatively normal. She dances in order to learn to do what she wants to do for the rest of her life. Take pictures.

Photography, Samantha's baby, her passion, her reason for pole dancing night after night after night. The reason she left New Hampshire, the reason she left everyone she loved behind. All Samantha wanted to do was take pictures of nature. Go to Tibet and live among the Buddhist monks as they reached the highest level of peace and tranquility. To climb Mt. Everest just to take a picture of the world. To go within the depths of the sea and find the great abyss of sea life that waits patiently for their day. Samantha dreamed of this day and night.

During her childhood she lived a life of innate structure and perfect straight balance. Everyone and everything had its place and there was no changing that. Samantha was taught from birth that she'd be a lawyer when she grew up. Her mother practiced cooperate law, one of the only women who did in New Hampshire, her father practiced personal injury law, her brother, a reincarnated sixties free love/ no wars hippie even practiced civil rights law. Three generations of Mitchell's and Gage's (Samantha's mother's side) were lawyers. It was a tradition intended to last forever. It seemed like the only time anyone smiled was during family photos or party pictures.

Ever since she was ten years old, whenever the family was 'litigating' a little too aggressively, Samantha would emerge from her room with a camera. If even for those five minutes she spent taking pictures, her family looked as if they really loved each other. It was times like those that Samantha thought she was the luckiest girl in the world. She had the power to stop her family from arguing. It was the reason she loved taking pictures so much.

"Samantha girl, you're up"
"What?" Samantha asked looking up at the talking figure "Oh sorry Heidi"
"Don't apologize to me girl, if you don't get your ass on that stage like now, Sweetness is going to have your ass" Heidi said handing Samantha her faux glasses "Time to be 'Angelia' now"

Stretching to a whopping six feet and one inch as she slid into her three inch heels, She adjusted her trademark school girl outfit taking in her a deep breath before stepping out on the stage in way too much make-up, hair too curly, but feeling oddly above prostitution. As the men whooped and hollered 'Angelia', she latched herself onto the pole suggestively before cueing the out of eyeshot DJ to play her trademark song. Before the intro to Richard Marx's 'Angelia' blared out of the speakers, Samantha became less and less visible. And as she climbed the peg-less pole, somehow, Samantha disappeared.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Mornings are forgiving. The dawn cares not of the transgressions that you may or may not have committed. The dawn only cares that you notice it. Pay no attention to the nip and slippery dew that might cause you to become overwhelmed with allergy. The dawn only wants to be helpful and cleansing and beautiful like everything else the Gods created.

Samantha begged to differ. Her mornings never proved to be forgiving. The scrutiny of the slow southern summer sun crept through the window of her Vandy area loft, reminding her that today is another day. A day without sympathy or consequence for what she goes through. But, just like the people in Nashville, the sun never cares for anyone. The sun doesn't care if you're ready for it. It shines anyway.

She walked into the English building and sighed as she saw a few familiar faces from the night before. Professors and students alike, they all knew who Samantha was. Part time Magna cum Laude student, amateur photographer and midnight stripper. Although, the college had well over twenty thousand students most had heard of her or seen her in action. Those who saw her in action were usually more condescending then kids who knew of her. But Samantha never let that discourage her. She had lots to worry about without concerning herself with people's perceptions about what she should or shouldn't be. If she wanted that, she would have stayed in New Hampshire.

Walking commandingly into her advanced English Literature class, Samantha got behind the podium ready to give her final presentation about the difference between Socrates and Confucius as opposed to taking a final exam. Most of the students were either asleep or absently listening to their CD players. She sighed before giving her opening thesis statement. Samantha wished she could be that lackadaisical with her education, but sadly, she couldn't afford NOT to be anything less than Summa Cum Laude. There was no way that she could afford to go to Vanderbilt if she lost her scholarships and quarterly grants. No matter how many hours a night she danced or how good a night was�there was just no way she could afford it.

After the nauseating experience of talking to a classroom full of deadbeats, Samantha took off for the only thing about school that made it worth while�the hour she was allowed to take pictures before her Photo Theory class. Last week, during her routine visit to Vanderbilt Hospital, she'd promised the terminally ill kids that she would come back to take pictures of them. She often volunteered with them when she could get some free time.

When she'd first started dancing, Samantha was having trouble coping with the reality of the situation. The reality that she was a snap away from being a prostitute. She went to see a therapist who told her that she should take some time out of her schedule to do something completely self-less. Something that wouldn't leave room for Samantha to regard herself with pity. So, after talking it over with Heidi, she finally decided to volunteer or terminally ill kids. After almost a year and half doing it, she loved what she did for the kids. Just the sight of her bought laughter to children who had to come to terms with the fact that they wouldn't be alive, for most of them, after the age of ten.

* * * * * *

"I love this one" Professor Smith said holding up a picture of a child Samantha took a few weeks before "But you have to remember Ms. Mitchell, that the shades are just as important as the lights. Try and take the picture standing against the light. That way you come out with a black and white with depth. It brings out the severity of a particular photo"
"What about this one?" she said showing her a picture of a ten year-old with a scarf on her head, evidence of her chemotherapy treatments "It shows plenty of depth. And the way the gray in her scarf matches the gray in her eyes and around them�I think it's a neat picture"
"It is�but I have to be honest with you Samantha. You're pictures lack�passion. You're pictures are mostly about things that mean a lot to you because they should�and not because you want them to"
"I don't get it"
"I don't want to overstep my bounds but�when was the last time you were�I don't know�involved in something outside of Vanderbilt?"
"Since I started" Samantha admitted
"Well, there you go. What I want you to do over the summer is relax. Take some time to enjoy your youth. Go on a real vacation. Then, next semester, I want pictures of substance. Take pictures of things or people that you're passionate about. I want landscapes, people, objects�anything that means a lot to you. But I don't want them to lack the passion that these lack" Professor said motioning towards the pictures scattered on her desk
"Alright Professor Smith" Samantha said getting her portfolio together "I'll see you in three months"
* * * * *
The loft was dark except for a small desk light that illuminated the southern most regions, where Samantha sat going over her bills. Her phone bill, she reckoned, could be paid in one installment, but the gas bill would be a little more difficult to pay. Why? She didn't know. She hardly ever cooked and it was too warm out for heat. However, it somehow managed to be over two hundred dollars. In addition to her rent, electric bill, Internet bill, water bill, car note, and credit card bills, she'd have to work at least six hours every night for the next week. Samantha cringed at the thought.

She sat back after balancing her checkbook thinking about what Professor Smith told her. A vacation would do her good. Maybe she could leave Nashville for a month or two and go somewhere where she could be temporarily anonymous. She didn't want to go anywhere too warm but not cool either. Samantha just ached to leave the condemned city where all of her school colleagues knew her as 'the stripper'.

Money was a problem however. The only summer money she had was five hundred dollars, which couldn't even buy her a comfortable vacation out west. She sighed in discontentment and got up from her small desk. Looking at the clock instinctively, she remembered that she didn't work that night. Half smiling, she lay down in her small bed and stared at her high ceiling. Samantha could feel herself starting to suffocate. She needed out. Out of Nashville, out of Intimate Performances, and out of her life for just a little while.

The phone rang softly from her nightstand just as Samantha was stumbling into the beautiful abyss of sleep. She let it ring twice more before groaning and picking it up.

"Samantha?" a slightly accented voice asked timidly
"Yeah?"
"It's Nichole. How have you been?"
"Oh my God! Nichole? I've been fine what about you? How's the theatre thing in Memphis going?"
"Well, I kinda quit"
"What?" Samantha asked sitting up suddenly "And why the hell did you do that?"
"It's a long story. But�I got a job in Millington teaching theatre in high school"
"No shit. That's great. I bet the money's better"
"Yup. I was smart enough not to accept from a public school. Plus, I have paid summers off, so I can do freelance acting without having commitments to any theatre"
"That's wonderful. So does that mean you're moving to Millington?"
"I've already done that. Which is why I'm calling. I know how hard you've been struggling up there in Nashville. I was just wondering would you want to come down to Millington this summer and spend it with me"
"Oh Nichole�I don't know�I have work"
Samantha recalled her schedule for the next week, including the extra time she'd have to put in to pay her overly inflated bills. She needed to buy more photography supplies and get her car a tune up. A vacation�it didn't seem like it was going to happen.
"I'm sure the Players Club�the Cheetah or whatever that place is called will manage without you for a month. Plus, you haven't had a lazy vacation in like a year. So I'm not taking no for an answer"
"I'll have to talk to my boss�so I can't give you an answer right now. Do you even have room for me?"
"That's what I wanted to tell you! I just bought this seriously big house. I don't need that much room, but I've never lived in a big house so it'll be nice. It's on about five acres of land next to this creek that streams to a lagoon with Weeping Willows all around it"
"So I gather it's a small town"
"Very small but it's quaint"
"I bet the black population is zero" Samantha said sardonically
"No, I saw a black guy mowing his lawn yesterday"
"What time was it?"
"I don't know�I was driving the U-Haul in from Memphis. I'd say around�6AM?"
"That was a yard hand. Black people don't get up that early to do anything. Besides, we'd just pay a white person to do it" Nichole laughed
"I really want you to think about this Sam. I haven't seen you in a very long time. Besides, a change would do you good. I can hear it in your voice, you don't like where you are in your life. Just�" Nichole sighed "Think about it okay? Give it at least one good day of uninterrupted thought. Weigh it. Or do what you normally do. Make a list of pros and cons"
"Okay, I'll think about it. But I can't promise you anything tonight except that I will think about it"
"That's all I ask chica. That's all I ask"

Tell me what you think....

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Replies:

Wow, that was just....beautiful... -- Z, 12:15:50 11/12/02 Tue
I'm liking this chica. I expect more soon my friend. (NT) -- Reagan, 14:52:35 11/12/02 Tue
I LIKE this, more soooon please girl........ -- Ali, 02:04:07 11/13/02 Wed
You know how they say experiments can go wrong at times.... -- Sonali, 12:58:20 11/20/02 Wed