The New Girls

By Nicholas Keagan

When eighteen-year-old Ally Sullivan is offered the chance of a lifetime to tour the US in a world-famous ice show, she has no idea of the trouble that looms. Ally foolishly thinks her skating ability will be the true test of surviving the road.

She couldn't be more wrong.

Ally soon finds herself immersed in a hidden society of nomads. A world where heavy drugs, promiscuous sex and a web of complicated friendships quickly eclipses the life she once knew.

This plot-twisting trilogy is about living life with only a suitcase by your side. An adventure of running away from it all surrounded by laughter, love and the unexpected that more often than not defies belief.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nicholas Keagan
• Release date: Dec 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781773702049

Book preview

Cover.jpg

Table of Contents

The Moment Is Now

Lightning in a Bottle

So It Begins

The Perfect Storm

Feet to the Fire

Rumours: Track II

Opening Night

Letting Go

Train Wreck

Revelations

Reality Suspended

Svetlana’s Secret

Rebirth

The Phone Call

Christmas Eve 1981

My Work Here Is Done!

All My Yesterdays

The Centre Marker Light

The Road Back

The Appointment

No Way Out

The Talk

Into The Night

Chapter 1

The Moment Is Now

March 21st, 1981

Greensboro, North Carolina

One last 6:00 a.m. session in the cold, damp air of that filthy hockey arena. Alone, she finds the solitude of being the only one in the building at this ungodly hour somehow perfect.

It’s just her and the ice.

Given how this day could potentially play out, nothing about it will be remotely normal, but that doesn’t seem to bother eighteen-year-old Ally Sullivan one bit. She knows that despite her anxiety, nothing can dampen her hopes.

Today is the day. The day she’s looked forward to, obsessed over, and feared for the last three months.

Ready or not, at 5:45 p.m. Ally will audition for one of the largest touring ice show companies in the world.

Lost in thought, Ally stands at the boards looking out through the glass. Every ounce of who she is couldn’t possibly want anything to be different. Yes, it might be 6:00 a.m. And yes, this rundown old hockey arena might be unbearably cold, but in her imagination she is somewhere else entirely.

Stepping forward, pressing her full body weight down on the large steel latch, Ally pries open the heavy door to the ice. It releases with a loud snap that echoes around her.

Slowly, in no rush, Ally begins to skate the perimeter, appreciating the complete isolation. She knows full well that no one is watching. She’s embraced by the rink that has seen her grow from toddler to teen. That very same rink which through the years has seen her at her very best and her absolute worst. This is her last opportunity to connect with the dream of a little girl that began under these very same old rusted beams.

Detached in every way from the outside world, the arena is mute but for the sound of her blades cutting deep as she builds speed and flies across the vast open ice. Effortlessly she reaches, arching her back into a beautiful Ina Bauer, soaring at full speed like a boat skimming above choppy waters, the wind filling its sails.

Ally knows that today is her chance. Most likely her only chance. Giving a strong audition later this afternoon is the key to unlocking everything in life she’s ever wanted.

The moment—her moment—is now.

The end of March. Just another Saturday for the largest touring ice show company in the country.

Raleigh, North Carolina. Another hectic three-show day. Each and every show two-and-a-half hours in length. Three shows in one day, a ridiculous schedule that somehow always seems to fit perfectly on paper, but in reality leaves performers stretched far beyond what they can handle.

Struggling to maintain any grasp on sanity, each performer digs deep, individually and collectively searching for a way to somehow make it through just one more fucking show.

Overwhelmed, the mind switches off and artistic dementia ensues. Pupils dilate and a zombie-esque presence takes over. Every face smiles, never revealing the truth that lies under the two inches of heavy show makeup and lashes the blinding lights, the music and the choreo take demonic possession. The brain is temporarily locked in a scary state of nothingness until the final bows. Then comes the euphoria that at least for now it’s over. I can relax, have a smoke, and finally take off these goddamn skates!

Saturday’s second show finishes. Forty-five minutes later, the stadium has been abandoned. Another open call audition is about to be forcefully squeezed in between shows two and three.

Tina…Denise…Leslie…Michelle…Alice…Hannah…Tracy…(a slight pause)… David…

Ally looks toward a man standing at the edge of the ice. The sound of his voice has replaced the thunderous applause that earlier had echoed through the large now-empty venue.

She reaches down for her skate guards, then takes a deep breath trying to shake her overwhelming anxiety.

You will be fine, Alice.

Her mother’s presence at her side and her attempt at reassurance only add to Ally’s agitation.

She tries to collect her thoughts as she joins the small group of hopefuls who are surrounded by an almost visible sense of fear. They make their way across the open ice toward the man whose face is now buried in papers on a clipboard. A lanky character dressed in a company tracksuit, he is of average looks, short, and has a bushy mustache that fails to mask an obvious aura of femininity.

The man nods and smiles automatically at Ally as she approaches, then his eyes widen as he registers the five-feet-two-inch, 105-pound, dark-haired beauty standing in front of him.

Crap, he thinks to himself. Right look…too bad she’s so short.

Then he shifts his focus back to the group and introduces himself as Denis, the men’s line captain.

As other young hopefuls gather round, Denis’ eyes glance distractedly toward a group of people gathered higher up in the stands. Ally follows his gaze. The onlookers all seem at ease, as if this massive steel and concrete space offers them a sense of normal.

She assumes they’re skaters from the show.

Ally finds herself beginning to wonder about the life they live.

To me this is all so amazing, so unbelievable, she thinks. But what do they feel when they look over at that enormous set? Do they feel anything?

I wonder how they really feel about skating.

To her surprise, Ally, for the very first time, begins to ask herself whether wanting this job and having this job—this life—might turn out to be two different things entirely.

As more cast members gather in the seats high up under the rafters Ally turns her attention back to Denis, the mustache with the clipboard. She can sense his exhaustion and abruptly realizes that while for her this audition is a life-defining moment, for him it’s probably nothing but a hassle. Just one more thing he has to do today.

Okay, folks, Denis begins. I know from my own experience standing in your shoes that this process is nerve-racking.

Denis’ words, meant to put the group at ease, fail entirely, but he continues, giving the same speech he’s clearly delivered a hundred times before.

This is what’s known in the industry as a cattle call. No one has priority. We’re looking for strong skating, a high level of performance and lots of confidence.

Ally and the rest follow Denis toward the set then stand in a line behind him and begin to learn a fairly simple step sequence.

Shoulders back! Denis yells, and without saying the words he gestures flamboyantly for them to proudly show off their breasts.

Right, thinks Ally. I get it.

She smiles and closes her eyes, remembering the show she’d seen just two days earlier. The lights. The costumes. The music. The roar from the crowd. She imagines herself among the performers, and skates the steps perfectly on count.

Denis, stunned by the quality of Ally’s skating, momentarily can’t take his eyes off of her.

A voice from behind the set interrupts him.

Sorry, sorry, sorry—that took way longer than it should have!

The voice belongs to a beautiful woman about thirty years old. Also dressed in a company tracksuit, wearing full show makeup and enormous fake eyelashes, she quickly skates out from backstage and down the ice toward them. Her smile is automatic and tinged with fatigue. Denis introduces her as Tara, the women’s line captain.

Where are we? she asks, looking at him.

Denis scans his clipboard as if searching for the right answer.

North Carolina? he replies sarcastically.

Tara glares at him, giving him a look that could only be interpreted as fuck off.

Denis smirks and fills her in on what they’ve already covered. Tara picks up where Denis left off and begins taking the small group through the next phase of the audition.

Though she doesn’t realize it at the time, Ally is standing at the pivotal threshold on which every performer—famous or struggling—has found themselves. A lifetime of perseverance and sacrifice all hinges on this exact moment they will never forget. Ally is in a place and time in her own unique journey where a doorway to chance can open onto almost anything.

Twenty minutes later, Ally finds herself sitting back next to her mother.

Is that it? she thinks, unlacing her skates.

She jumps when a hand touches her shoulder. It’s Denis.

He whispers quietly, You’re Alice, right?

She nods.

Would you mind joining Tara and I at the Coffee Stand when you get your skates off? We’d like to chat with you a little, ask you a few questions.

Ally nods and her heart begins to pound.

Not wanting to keep him or anyone else waiting, she tosses her skates into her bag, slush and dirt still dripping from the blades, and races over to Denis and Tara.

Knowing that in all the excitement Alice has probably forgotten her own name, let alone theirs, Denis and Tara quietly reintroduce themselves. Together with David, the lone boy in the audition they begin making their way past the front rows of ice-level VIP seating. As they walk, show lights above the ice begin springing to life, illuminating the imposing thirty-foot set which towers majestically in front of them.

Stepping past the players’ bench and under the massive stadium seating, they follow a tight corridor which branches off into two seemingly endless hallways.

The belly of the beast. They quickly pass by open doors leading into dressing rooms, then by rows and rows of freight containers filled with beaded costumes and feathered headdresses. Close up, the pieces look surprisingly worn and seedy.

Come show time this place must be a madhouse, Ally thinks to herself.

They turn a corner and walk through yet another doorway past a heavy black curtain. Waiting for them are tables, chairs, and a counter buried under a buffet of nothing even remotely healthy. It’s obviously a place set up for the cast and crew to relax and unwind.

Through an open door, a female voice grabs Tara’s attention. A thick Russian accent launches into a tirade over how one of Tara’s girls dared to stand far too close in the finale of that afternoon’s show. Tara grimaces and shoots Denis a look which says, You take care of Ally and David—I’ll deal with this crazy bitch.

While Tara speeds toward the door, Denis hustles Ally and David to one of the empty tables.

Glancing over her shoulder back toward the irate Russian voice, Ally sees Tara planted firmly in front of a tall, slender redhead in full show makeup and not much else. Her hair is so red, so bright that it almost seems to crackle with its own electricity. The woman is incredibly beautiful in fact. Her half-naked body leans emphatically toward Tara as she states her distain for some incompetent chorus girl.

FUCK! Denis swears, then looks at Ally and David and calmly apologizes. Don’t move, left my clipboard by the ice. I’ll be right back.

Denis rushes off, his plastic skate guards squeaking against the tiled floor.

Ally and David glance awkwardly at each other and then their eyes dart about excitedly, soaking up all the sights and sounds and happenings that are part of backstage life on the road.

A very loud thud startles them.

Hate this fuckin’ place!

Caught by surprise, David and Ally’s shocked eyes are drawn to a table on the other side of the room. The voice belongs to a tall muscular blond man sitting by himself, rifling through a brown burlap bag. Ally stares at the bag curiously, wondering about its contents.

What? he demands in a thick Irish accent, glaring at them.

Embarrassed, both Ally and David instantly drop their eyes toward the floor, feeling ashamed for failing to mind their own business in a place where they are merely guests.

Suddenly, from another table, a loud female voice shouts aggressively, Calm down! It’s not their fault that you’re such a dumb shit!

The voice belongs to a tall, thin older women, seemingly in her late fifties who sports a Mohawk and large tattoos. Her edgy punk-rock appearance is intimidating, but she smiles at Ally. Standing up, she wanders toward them, plants her butt on top of their table and puts one foot up on Denis’ now-empty chair.

Ally’s eyes widen as she finds her face only inches away from the unusual creature’s old, worn T-shirt that reads, Sex Pistols US Tour 1978.

That’s what happens when you two-time a gal on the road, the woman begins tactlessly, looking back in the frustrated Irishman’s direction. Nothin’ sorrier than a jerk who disrespects any of us broads. Karma’s a bitch, ain’t that right, Johnny-boy?

The woman turns to Ally and David. Jonathan here made the stupid mistake of hooking up with the company accountant. Here she pauses and shakes her head. Then he humiliated her by banging some slutty hotel clerk.

What city was it, Johnny-boy? Toledo? Dayton? Columbus?

Fuck off! he replies under his breath. Still baffled, Ally and David watch as Jonathan carefully lifts roll after roll of coins from the burlap bag.

The older woman continues talking to Ally and David as though Jonathan is invisible.

Here’s the thing. Johnny-boy thought he’d romance the one person who handles our pay.

A big smirk lights up the older woman’s face.

On the road we’re paid in hard cash and today’s payday. For Jonathan that now means $250 US bucks in nickels, dimes and quarters this week and every week until the end of the season . . . The old tattooed woman with the Mohawk pauses. "Or at least until he takes her advice and fuckin’ drops dead!

In the real world, out there— she looks toward the door marked Fire Exit "—there’s no justice for us gals when it comes to cheating creeps like this piece o’ shit! But on the road we’ve got nothin’ but time to plot revenge. My point is, don’t pay any attention to Jonathan! He’s just frustrated because everybody knows that Joan now has him by the balls."

The woman tilts her head at Jonathan, who’s holding three rolls of quarters in his clenched fist. Without dropping a roll he carefully lifts his middle finger.

Oh, Johnny, you’re dumb as shit but I love ya! Plus you’re a hell of a good guy to know when it comes to laundromats and vending machines!

Her humour cracks up most everyone scattered around the Coffee Stand.

Sod off! Jonathan returns, a guilty smile plastered across his face.

"Oh sweetie, we’re in the middle of a three-show day. I haven’t the time for that much fun!" She smiles down at Ally and winks.

Laughter again erupts throughout the Coffee Stand. Ally and David sit stone-faced, not quite sure whether to join in with this group of strangers and laugh, but are saved by Line Captain Denis’ return. He pulls the chair out from under the tattooed woman’s boot, brushes it off with his hand, and sits down, ignoring the laughter.

Trying to work here! Take a hike!

Denis motions for the woman, who appears to be almost twice his age, to get her ass off the table.

Chill out, Sunshine! the older women replies. "I’m just the welcoming committee. Now don’t you go scaring these poor kids." With that, she runs her fingers affectionately through Denis’ perfectly styled hair as she wraps her arms around his neck and plants a kiss on his cheek before disappearing through the Coffee Stand door.

For a second there’s complete silence. Just as people begin to speak again, the woman returns in a mad dash to grab her forgotten walkie-talkie. She enters quickly and exits just as fast but not before leaning over to whisper in Ally’s ear,

Just remember kid, here the real world rules don’t apply.

Chapter 2

Lightning in a Bottle

Heading into the final weeks of her senior year, the end of high school seems to Ally like a let-down rather than the start of a new beginning. Four more days to go before the end. One more high school morning that drags on and on. Eager to escape, Ally heads home at lunchtime, not something she often does. But the day is warm and sunny, and she’s desperate for any kind of distraction.

Walking up to her front door she’s caught off-guard by a large envelope dangling from the mailbox. Ally gasps as she sees the company logo in the upper corner alongside a return address in Nevada. In that instant, breathing is impossible and time seems to stand still.

LAS VEGAS, wow! To Ally the return address might as well have read The Moon!

Standing on the porch, Ally carefully eases open the envelope and allows the contents to spill out. Blank forms. A glossy brochure. A short but to-the-point cover letter.

Dear Miss Sullivan it begins. "Based on your performance at our open audition in Raleigh, North Carolina, we would like to offer you a Chorus position in our current show After Eternity.

Upon your acceptance of our offer, we will proceed with your contract and employment paperwork as quickly as possible. Would you please contact our head office at the number shown below to confirm your acceptance should this be a direction you are committed to pursuing.

Ally’s feet carry her to the phone before she finishes reading. Excited fingers dial the long-distance number, which connects her to the show’s head-office casting department.

The receptionist on the other end recites contract details to a speechless Ally who is incredibly grateful when the lady adds that she’ll mail everything to her immediately. Ally has no memory of anything else the lady said after Congratulations! and Welcome to the company!

Hanging up, Ally can’t contain her excitement. Alone, standing in her mother’s kitchen, she breathes out a shriek of pure joy that probably could be heard all the way down the street.

Heart pounding, Ally feels as if she’s standing on top of the world. As if nothing can hold her down.

Graduation. Packing. An avalanche of friends stopping by with good wishes and stern warnings. Almost time to leave. In two weeks Ally will be in Las Vegas, rehearsing with the most known touring ice show in the country. Las Vegas! Up until now the farthest Ally has ever been from home is Charlotte.

In the final few days before hitting the road, Ally feels that she’s on the cusp of something huge. That fate is guiding her and that she might very well be in for the ride of her life.

Despite all the excitement, Ally can’t help but think about the one thing that makes her want to throw up her hands and stay home. Make that one person.

Bradley.

Her boyfriend since the eighth grade. Two sides of the same coin, they’ve always been there for each other and had assumed they always would.

This fall Bradley will follow his heart to Fayetteville University. But she knows in her heart that Bradley has never truly believed she would ever leave the Carolinas to become a showgirl, live out of a suitcase and tour the country with a bunch of strangers. That for Bradley the fact that she won’t be there when he returns from college is not yet real. Deep down, Bradley still believes that somehow she will always be there by his side.

It’s her last day at home. Bradley, she knows, has been planning something special for her final night in town. No, he’d said earlier that week, I won’t tell you, just be ready by seven, wear something comfortable, and plan to eat!

She’d smiled and nodded. But underneath her smile lay a faint tinge of worry. She has no idea what he’s got in mind, but Ally hopes with all her heart that it won’t involve a ring or otherwise. More than anything else, Ally doesn’t want Bradley to get hurt. She knows she’s leaving her best friend in the world, but leave him she must if she’s to find herself. Deep down, Ally wants Bradley to follow his own path with no regrets, no false hopes or promises.

Ally knows that tonight will be special. The entire town and the surrounding two counties knows that. Word is that Bradley has been walking around for the last three weeks grinning like a fool, telling anyone willing to listen that he’s got something perfect planned for her going away.

From the window of her room Ally sees Bradley’s truck pull up in front of the house. She darts down the staircase, yelling to her parents, I’m off! She pauses for a second then adds, Don’t wait up!

Ally races out the door, across the yard and climbs into the truck. She scoots across the bench seat of the cab and kisses