Read The Girl They Sold to the Moon for Free Online

room, while musicians tuned, played and cleaned their instruments on the other side.
    Tilly remembered her studies of medieval history in high school. And this place qualified as a king’s court of jesters, fools, manic troubadours and idiots. It was the most disorganized display she had seen while enduring the whole process.
Well, why not? Entertainers and actors are all self-absorbed jackasses
, she thought.
They just have a bigger collection of them here and they’re all under one roof.
    A petite Asian woman in her mid-forties and wearing shorts and tank top stepped up to Tilly and planted her hands on her hips. The woman perspired heavily from the temples. “Dear gawd,” said the woman. “What are we going to do with that hair?” The woman made a slow stroll around Tilly. “And you’re as tall as a fuckin’ highscraper.”
    Tilly didn’t believe this woman was a coach, until she looked at the name tag. SUE LIN WONG-INSTRUCTOR. As far as the hair remark, Tilly wondered why this woman had a single braid of hair over five feet long wrapped around her neck like a choker collar. Tilly could think of a dozen nasty nicknames to peg this little bandy-legged female.
    â€œI guess I found a coach,” said Tilly, trying to hide a grimace and speak above the calamitous noises around her.
    Sue Lin frowned. “That depends. My specialty is martial arts, acrobatics and dance. You one of those?”
    â€œDancer, er,
prancer
.”
    Deeper frown. “As tall as you are? What, ballet?”
    â€œBallet, jazz, point, classical, modern, two-step, hip-hop, swing, jive, and—
    â€œYou don’t have to sell me.”
    Sue Lin pulled her behind some wardrobe racks, getting away from the noise level. “The first thing you must know is that the crowd is very rough topside. You have the looks, but you will have to hold their attention. Most of the miners are very stupid, with the attention spans of gnats. So you must come out with a big flair, big talent and
command
attention. They won’t’ give you respect—you must take it!” She made a grasping and wringing motion with her hands. “Take the bastards by the nads, twist them into submission and never let go. Show them you are in charge.”
    â€œSure, be dynamic.” How dynamic would she have to be? Was this as reckless and free-for-all as it sounded? “How long is each show?”
    â€œTwo thirty-minute shows, with allowances for overrun. Two 15-minute segments, with a five-minute change-out in between. Pick out your longest songs. If you run short, loop them. Four shows per shift, unless you want to run two long ones but I’ll have to okay that ahead of time. Have you given any thought to routines, skits, costumes, songs, and music accompaniment?”
    â€œI’m into the old retro hip-hop-pop. I like the style of Michael Jackson, if you’ve heard of him. I don’t know if it will go over well here or not.”
    â€œHah! I used to bust a move to his tunes twenty years ago. A fine choice in the beginning. There are a lot of younger miners and tourists in this Harbor—some of the older employees are fond of nostalgia. As far as gear, we have the Wagner air pump speaker system, good for 20,000 watts peak volume. It’s enough to tear their faces off. What songs?”
    Tilly’s mind raced. “Thriller. I know every move, beat and break. From there I’ll go down his list.”
    â€œThat’ll do.” Sue Lin’s brows furrowed. She snapped her fingers. “The zombie look—that’s what we’re after.” She took Tilly by the hand and pulled her through the racks until they arrived at three rows of period clothes circa 1940. Sue Lin yanked pants, vest, shirt, shoes, and a snap-brim hat from a rack and moved down the aisle with fast, choppy steps. Tilly followed her to a mirrored wall, complete with makeup counter and chairs. Sue Lin told