Chapter 1

I had grown immune to the pounding music. When I first started working here, the rhythmic beat played over and over in my head. Even when I was in bed at home, it would be all that I could hear. It was now one of the many things that I have grown used to.

I rolled my eyes at the man I had spent a long ten minutes giving a lapdance. For most of the dance, I was pulling his hands off my body. In the end, he offered me money to give him a blow job. I declined, as I always do.

I stood, but the man grabbed my waist and pulled me back down onto his lap. I grabbed his thumb and twisted it back until he let go of me. It was a little trick I learned from Lina when I first started working here. He yelped and let go. I got off his lap and walked away.

“Hey!” he shouted, but the music almost drowned out his voice. “Where do you think you’re going?”

His sweaty hand grabbed my wrist and yanked me back. He spun me around so that I was staring into his dark cold eyes. I had to look up as he towered over me. A large gothic tattoo of a crow was on the side of his neck. The smell of scotch was coming off his breath. I tried to pull my wrist free, but that only resulted in him tightening his grip. I grabbed his thumb again, but he pulled my hand away. Both of my wrists were locked in his grip.

“The sign says Girls of Your Fantasy,” Crow said, “and this is my fantasy.”

“I’m not a hooker,” I said.

He clenched his jaw and tightened his fingers around my wrists. I swung my leg out and kicked him in the shin. Before he could react, I dug the heel of my shoe into the top of his foot. He growled and threw me down onto the floor. The people around us glanced down at me, but no one moved to help.

“It’s not sex,” he said.

He grabbed my ankle and pulled me across the ground.

“Let me go!” I yelled.

I clawed at the floor as I tried to crawl away from Crow. His lips curled into a smile as he reached for his belt.

A hand grabbed Crow’s shoulder and ripped him away. Donovan, the owner of the club, was standing there.

“What’s going on here?” Donovan asked.

“She won’t do what I asked for,” Crow said.

“So you grab her?” Donovan asked. “You’re fucking disgusting. Get out of here!”

Crow grunted and let go. Donovan crouched and reached for my hand so that he could help me back up. My fingers wrapped around his bony arm. Donovan tended to wear hoodies no matter what time of the year it was, and this made me forget about what kind of skeleton his meth addiction turned him into.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” I said.

“No, Julie,” he said. “If you’re in pain I want you to go home.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t afford to leave this early in my shift.

“I’ll be okay,” I said.

Donovan gave me a wary smile and looked at my hands. I was still clinging to his arm. I let go and crossed my arms over my chest.
“I want you to wait on tables for the rest of the night,” he said. “Tell me if that bastard comes into the club again. I’ll make him regret it.”

I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing. The thought of him kicking anyone’s ass was hilarious; however, all of the girls in the club felt protected by him.

“Yeah, no worries,” I said.

I weaved my way through the crowd of people to get over to the bar. I pulled a tray out from behind the counter and looked for people who were not drinking. Donovan once told me that it was the waitresses’ job to get everyone in the club drunk. That way men wouldn’t realize the difference between a twenty and a one.

I spotted a man in the corner. He was middle-aged and his eyes were locked on the girl twirling around on stage.

“Can I get you something to drink, Honey?” I asked.

I broke his concentration. His eyes scanned over my revealing outfit and then lifted his lips into a smile.

“Yes,” he said. “A scotch on the rocks.”

I made my way back to the bar and ignored the men that were staring. For the first few months I worked here, I would always run and hide in the dressing room. I imagined what they were thinking about me and it made me feel sick. Now, I have learned to ignore it and get my job done.

I handed the man his drink and he gave me his money.

“And this one’s for you,” he said, handing me a one-dollar bill.

I plastered a fake smile on my face and went to look for another customer. I spent the rest of the night bringing men their drinks. A few drunk men made rude remarks to me, but I ignored them.

Crow never came back into the club.

On my break, I went into the dressing room. Five girls were sitting in their chairs in front of the mirror. Lina was in her spot curling her hair. I sunk down into my chair next to Lina. I fished the bills out of my bra and shoved them into my bag.

“Julie, I met the weirdest guy tonight,” Lina told me as she ran her fingers through her hair.

I slouched in my chair and closed my eyes. My feet and my back were aching and my eyes were dry from the layers of makeup. I had only two more hours until I could go home.

“Really?” I asked. “I thought they were all weird.”

“Well, yes,” she said. “But this guy interviewed me. I have never had that happen before.”

“Interviewed you about what?” I did not bother to open my eyes.

“He said he was writing a story about young women as strippers,” she said. “Or something like that. Anyways, he gave me twenty dollars. You should try to find him.”

I opened my eyes and raised a brow.

“Twenty dollars just to answer some questions?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “He barely wrote anything down too. It was kind of strange.”

I shook my head and laughed. She was puckering her lips to apply a fresh coat of lipstick. Pictures of Mike, her boyfriend, were tapped on her side of the mirror. I always wondered how she managed to see anything.

“There’s no need to laugh,” she said. “Find that guy tonight. If we each earn an extra twenty bucks that will help pay for our rent. You remember that it is due tomorrow, right?”

“Mike won’t cover for us again?” I asked.

“He’s covered for us for the last few months, Julie. If he does it again then his wife is going to find out.”

I closed my eyes and rested my cheek against my knuckles.

I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I jumped when someone grabbed my shoulders. I saw in the reflection that Donovan was towering over me. He was staring at our reflection of us.

“Did that asshole ever show up again?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“Good. I just wanted to make sure that you are alright.”

“Yeah, I am. No worries.”

He slid his hands off my shoulders and walked out of the dressing room. Lina and I watched him as he left. We were the only two left in the dressing room. Lina did not speak until she heard the door click shut.

“What was that about?” she asked.

“Some guy was giving me a hard time earlier.”

I shrugged. It was nothing out of the ordinary.

“But what was with Donovan?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

Lina fell back into her seat giggling.

“What?” I asked.

“Donovan has got the hots for you,” she said. “It makes so much sense now. That’s why you usually serve tables. He’s jealous and he does not want you to take your clothes off in front of other guys. It explains the costumes that you wear too. They’re so much more conservative than everyone else’s. He doesn’t want guys to see you like that.”

I rolled my eyes because there was no way that Donovan liked me.

“Wow,” I said, sliding off of my chair. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“No, you’re just mad because I am right,” she said in a childish tone.

I let out a deep breath as I left the dressing room. By the time we get home, Lina will have forgotten about this.

I spent the rest of the night waiting on tables. I could see Donovan in the corner of my eye for most of the night. He was leaning against the wall, arms across his chest and eyes on me.

Kevin, the bartender, was drying a few dishes with a rag when I came over to the bar.

“What time is it?” I asked him, leaning over the counter.

I knew he wore a watch. Kevin and Donovan were the only two who ever wore watches, and I did not want to ask Donovan right now.

“Almost one,” he said.

I only had one hour left. “Thanks.”

My eyelids were heavy as I walked away. I pinched the skin on the inside of my hands so that I would not start yawning. It was another trick I had learned from Lina.

When I dropped off my next drink, I passed Lina. She was giving a man a lap dance. She gyrated her hips in front of the man as she gestured her head over to Donovan. I rolled my eyes and walked away.

“Excuse me,” I heard someone say.

I turned toward one of the booths to see who was talking.

A middle-aged man was sitting alone in one of the torn-up seats. He had on a faded plaid shirt. A small notebook was poking out of the front pocket. His skin sagged around his dark eyes. I was about to offer him a drink, but his fingers were curled around a full glass.

“Yes?” I took a step forward so that I could hear him over the music.

“I wanted to know if I could ask you a few questions?” he asked.

This had to be the man that Lina was talking about. I was shocked that an hour later he was still there. How many questions did he need to ask? How many girls did he need to interview?

“About what?” I asked.

“About you,” he said. “Don’t worry I’ll pay.”

“How much?”

“Twenty-dollars.”

“I’m going to need a lot more than twenty dollars to tell a stranger my life story.”

I could see him chuckle, but I could not hear it over the music.

“You’re smart,” he said. “You’re the first girl to turn down my offer. How about twenty-five?”

“Why do you want to question me?” I asked.

“I’m writing an article about why young women, such as yourself, become strippers. So how’s twenty-five dollars?”

“Sorry, it is not enough.”

“How much will it take?”

“Fifty dollars.”

The man let out a deep breath. He ran his fingers up and down his glass.

“Fine,” he said. “I am only doing this because I think you’re quite different than the other girls.”

He seemed like a sweet man. It couldn’t hurt to answer his questions. It would help out with that rent that Lina and I have due tomorrow. Besides, I have done worse things in this club for less than fifty dollars.

He gestured to the opposite side of the booth and I slid in. He flipped open his notebook and scribbled down a few notes before looking up at me.

“Thank you so much,” he said. “Can I have your name?”

“Angela Johnson.”

There was no way that I was telling him my real name. I leaned across the table so that he could hear me.

“My name is Charles,” he said. “How old are you, Angela?”

“Nineteen,” I said.

“That is pretty young to be working here,” he said. “Do you live with your family?”

“No. I live with my roommate.”

“Does she know about you working here?”

“Yes, she works here too. She got me this job actually.”

Charles nodded his head as he continued to jot down notes. I tried to read what it said, but his handwriting was so messy that I could not make out any of the words.

“Does your family know that you work here?” he asked.

I took in a sharp breath and bit down on my bottom lip. This was a mistake. I should have never sat down.

“No,” I said. “They died when I was young.”

“So who raised you?” he asked.

“I bounced around between a bunch of different foster homes.”

“Why did you not stay in one home.”

“I got in trouble a lot. I was always getting into fights and leaving in the middle of the night to go drinking with my friends.”

“Do you still do that?”

There was sympathy in his voice and it surprised me. He actually sounded like he was concerned about what I do with my life.

“No, not really,” I said. “I try to stay out of trouble. I regret doing all of that stuff when I was a teenager.”

“You regret it?” he asked.

I nodded my head.

“To be clear,” he said. “You are not using drugs anymore, right?”

“No. Not anymore,” I said.

Charles closed his book, looked at me, and smiled. He smiled so big that his crooked yellow teeth were showing.

“Thank you, Angela,” he said.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a wad of bills and gave me my money. I grabbed the money and shoved it into my bra. Charles chuckled and shook his head. I slid out of the booth to head back toward the bar.

“Wait! Angela!” I heard him yell. I turned around and he was leaning out of the booth. “Are you a vegetarian?”

“No,” I said.

I furrowed my brows as I walked away from the booth. It was such an odd question. What would eating meat have to do with being a stripper?

I dropped the drink tray behind the bar and headed back into the dressing room. There were a few girls there, but it was fairly empty. I pulled the money out of my bra and put it into my bag. With the extra money, I did not see a reason to have to work the rest of the remaining hour. No one would notice that I am gone. Donovan may, but if he is in love with me like Lina says he’ll let it go.

This may have its privileges.

I changed out of my skimpy uniform and into a pair of jeans and a hoodie. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail. I loved how safe these clothes made me feel. My skin was covered and no one could make rude remarks. It was like being wrapped in a cocoon of comfort.

I exited out of the back and walked around the front of the club. The neon signs lit up the darkness. I pulled my cell phone out of my bag and called for a taxi. The cold breeze caused a shiver to run up my spine. I shoved my hands in my pockets and kept my head down. I looked up when I heard the stones of the driveway crunch under the wheels of a car. I was expecting it to be my taxi, but it was a rusted blue truck. The window rolled down revealing that it was Charles.

“A pretty girl like you should not be waiting out in the cold,” he said. “Let me give you a ride home.”

“No thanks,” I said, there was no way that I was getting in his truck. “I have a taxi coming.”

“How long ago did you call?” he asked.

“A few minutes ago. It should be here any minute.”

The engine stopped rumbling when Charles took the key out of the ignition. He opened up his door and came around to the other side of the truck. He had the sleeves of his flannel rolled up and a baseball cap on his head. He took a step forward, and I took one step back.

“I would like for you to meet my son,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow.

“You want me to do what?” I asked.

“I want you to meet my son,” he said.”He’s a nice boy. You will like him.”

“I’m going to wait for my taxi inside.”

I took another step back. Charles held out his hand like I was a timid deer that he did not want to scare away.

“Angela, wait,” he said. “I don’t mean to scare you.”

“No, you’re not,” I said, taking another step back. “You’re right. It is too cold out here. I am going to wait inside.”

I turned on my heels to head back inside. Charles let out a huff of breath.

“I wish it didn’t have to be like this,” he said.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me back. My scream was cut off when Charles’ hand shot up over my mouth. He pulled me against his chest and dragged me back to his truck. I swung my elbows back and hit him in the ribs. He let out a grunt, but his grip did not loosen. I kicked my legs back and hit him in the shin. I gathered up all my strength and stomped onto his foot. He let out a deep breath before throwing me down onto the ground. I used my hands to break my fall, and the gravel tore my skin.

I looked up to see Charles towering over me. He pulled something out of the back pocket of his jeans. He popped off the cap with his thumb, and I realized that it was a syringe. I scurried back, but he grabbed my ankle. He yanked me toward him and put his knee on my stomach. I gasped for air as I struggled to breathe. I thrashed under his hold. I kicked my legs out, but Charles grabbed my thigh and pinned it against the gravel. There was a sharp pinch in the side of my thigh. I let out a scream, and Charles stood.

I stumbled as I tried to stand. My knees wobbled and my head spun. I took one step forward and fell onto my knees. My vision was turning blurry. I tried to get up on my feet again, but I did not have enough strength to stand. Charles chuckled. I opened my mouth to scream, but a pathetic noise came out of my mouth.

Charles opened the passenger side door. He bent down and scooped me up off the ground. I tried to push him off of me, but he let out another chuckle. He set me down on the seat. He reached over me and pulled the seatbelt across my chest. A wide smile spread across his face as he brushed a piece of hair off of my forehead. I tried to scream again, but another lame noise came out of my mouth.

“It’s okay,” Charles said. “I am taking you home to your family.”

Charles slammed the door shut. My eyelids were growing heavy, and my head started to bob. Charles climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car. He pulled away, and I could not keep my head up anymore. The side of my temple was pressed against the cold window. I could not keep my eyes open and succumbed to whatever drug Charles had given me.