The morning of

The next morning began with a knock.

Aurora stirred beneath her blankets, blinking through the sliver of sunlight leaking past the curtain. The knock came again, louder this time, followed by Skyler’s unmistakable voice.

“Get your pretty ass up. We’ve got rhinestones to conquer.”

Aurora groaned softly but rolled out of bed, limbs still sore from yesterday’s practice. Her body felt used in a way that was strange and satisfying—like she’d done something worth the ache.

She opened the door barefoot, still in her oversized tee. Skyler stood there fully dressed in leggings, a sports bra, and an enthusiastic grin, two coffees in hand.

“Breakfast of champions,” she said, handing one over. “And by champions, I mean exhausted burlesque babies with bruised knees.”

Aurora took a grateful sip, the heat jolting her awake. “You’re too cheerful this early.”

“I thrive on chaos and caffeine,” Skyler declared. “Come on. Vanessa’s got plans for you today.”

By the time they made it to the main lounge, the space had transformed. Gone were the hushed tones and lazy stretches of the morning before—now the room hummed with purpose. Costumes were laid out across racks, lighting was being tested on the main stage, and Gia was already practicing spins in six-inch heels like gravity didn’t apply to her.

Vanessa stood near the stage, clipboard in hand, framed by a ray of dusty sunlight breaking through the velvet curtains. Her black suit was crisp, her heels lethal, and her eyes sharp as ever.

“Aurora,” she said without looking up. “You ready to start becoming someone else?”

Aurora swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Vanessa finally met her eyes. “Good. Because it’s time we start shaping your debut.”

Skyler gave Aurora an encouraging nudge. “You’ve got this. I’ll be here the whole time.”

Aurora stepped up onto the stage, bare feet pressing into the polished wood. The lights above were hot but not blinding. The room smelled faintly of powder, roses, and old ambition.

Vanessa gestured to one of the choreographers, a lean woman with tightly coiled hair and a headset around her neck.

“This is Celeste. She’ll be leading your staging. For the next two weeks, you belong to her.”

Celeste gave a sharp nod. “You’re new. You’re nervous. Don’t care. We move fast here.”

Aurora blinked. “Understood.”

“Good. Let’s start with posture. Walk the length of the stage. Again. Again. Again.”

It was hours before Aurora had a moment to breathe. Celeste drilled her in steps, pivots, posing. The choreography wasn’t overly complicated, but it demanded grace, timing, and the kind of confidence that could only be worn like a second skin. She stumbled. She apologized. Celeste snapped, “Stop saying sorry and start performing.”

Aurora bit her tongue and kept going.

By noon, her muscles ached, sweat clung to her skin, and her head was spinning with counts and notes. But when she glanced toward the edge of the stage, Skyler was there. Arms crossed. Smiling.

She wasn’t alone in this.

After a brief break for lunch—coffee and grapes from a communal tray—Vanessa called her into the costume room. Aurora followed her past racks of gowns, corsets, and handmade lingerie, every piece glittering with careful craftsmanship. Feathers in every color. Beads like rain. Silks that whispered secrets as they shifted.

Vanessa pulled out a sleek black bodysuit with gold embroidery, high-cut hips, and a plunging neckline. She handed it over without ceremony.

“You’ll open in this. It says everything without saying too much. The rest will come off piece by piece.”

Aurora held it up, studying the details. It was beautiful—seductive, but not cheap. Designed to be seen in layers.

“This is mine?”

“For the night it is,” Vanessa said. “Wear it well.”

An hour later, Lisa helped her into the piece backstage, tugging laces tight and adjusting clasps with practiced ease.

“You look like fire,” Lisa murmured, stepping back. “A spark waiting for the right moment.”

Aurora turned to the mirror. The transformation was staggering. The quiet girl from the bus station was gone. In her place stood a woman she didn’t fully recognize—powerful, poised, glittering from the collarbones down.

Skyler appeared in the doorway. “Stage is ready for your vocal test.”

Aurora followed her back to the floor, heels clicking softly this time—short ones, for practice. Celeste had cleared the stage, and the tech crew had queued up the instrumental for a slow, smoky jazz piece.

She took the mic.

The lights dimmed.

The music started.

And for a moment—just a breath—Aurora hesitated. But then she remembered Skyler’s words from the rooftop. They only see the shine.

So she sang.

Her voice floated into the space, warm and full. She didn’t belt. She didn’t push. She let the words glide like smoke curling through a keyhole. Halfway through, she closed her eyes, letting the lyrics wrap around her like silk.

When the last note faded, the room was quiet.

Then Skyler clapped softly. “That’s it,” she whispered. “That’s the girl who’s going to steal the show.”

Even Vanessa, notoriously unreadable, gave a small nod. “She’s ready.”

Aurora stood there, chest rising and falling, her heart thundering under the rhinestones.

Not yet.

But she was close.

And when the curtain rose in two nights’ time, she’d be everything they expected—and something more.