The contract had been ten paragraphs long and you had not read past the first three. The man at the table called it onboarding. He slid a tablet across, asked for your thumbprint, and the screen blinked once and went dark. The room had a smell of fresh paint and lemon disinfectant. A green light blinked above the door. He thanked you for your time.
The first thing wrong was the air on your stomach. Then the floor under your feet, which was not the carpet of the meeting room. Lights came up before your eyes adjusted. There was a sound that was not a sound, a hum a thousand voices long. Your hair was longer. It was also the wrong color. Stage lights pinned you—
You looked down. You looked up. You could not move. The room was a concert stage and the crowd was a roar. A metal pole stood behind you. You had a sudden urge to wrap a hand around it and spin, but you did not know how. The man at the table was nowhere.
The hum became a voice, became a thousand voices, became a song. Your lips moved and you could not stop them. The choreography began without you. Your hand went to your waist, to the top of your thigh, to the side of your breast. Heat climbed up the back of your neck. The body found the count before you did.
You held the pole. You did not decide to. The crowd was already with you, the front rows lifted, glow sticks doubled, a spotlight finding your shoulders and refusing to leave. You had not heard the song before. You knew every word.
***
The show ended and you did not remember stepping off the stage. Backstage smelled of sweat and stage makeup. Someone pressed a towel and a water bottle into your hands. The man at the table was at the end of the hallway, watching. He nodded once and looked away. The meet-and-greet line was already moving.
The fan at the front held a glow stick and a folded poster of your new face. He said the name they had given you. You smiled a smile someone had practiced for you. He said his hotel was around the corner. You said yes before you knew the word in your mouth.
The room was small and the air conditioner clicked on as you came in. He kissed you while you were still in the boots. Your hands knew where to go. They undid the laces and you stepped out of the bottoms. Your hair was matted with sweat. His fingers did not hesitate. He sat on the bed and you straddled him.
You sank onto him and your hips moved before you decided. He held your waist. His mouth went to your chest. The thought arrived in your head fully formed, and it wasn't yours, and then it was: this body knew the count, your old name was wrong now, you would be back next show. You came on him at the count he hit you on. The old self watched from somewhere small, then from nowhere.
Afterwards you sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the boots back on. The glow stick had rolled under the dresser and was still glowing pink. You said the new name out loud and it sat right in your mouth. The poster on the chair had your face on it, smiling on cue.