The deafening beat of the music turns into a dull ache in my head as I make my way down the long hall toward the dressing room. Thankfully Jimmy only scheduled me for one dance tonight because I was horrible.

Beyond horrible.

The bright lights worked to block my view from seeing anything and anyone beyond the seats directly in front of the stage. I stayed far away from the edge, focusing on the dark, well above where anyone could be sitting. Part of me feared I’d be touched. The other feared I would see the horror in the eyes of those watching.

I burst into the dressing room, wanting to hurry up and get out of here. I want to go home, crawl in bed, and forget this night ever happened. I distantly hear the other girls talking when I walk through the small room, but I don’t waste time trying to make friends.

This is a means to an end.

I pull the sweatshirt I left hanging on the chair over my bare chest and slide onto the stool in front of the lighted mirror. One at a time, I pry the bright blue fuck-me pumps from my feet. Giving each foot a quick massage, I sigh in relief as the feeling slowly returns. I stretch my toes and throw the shoes on the floor, wondering how women wear those torture devices on their feet, especially while dancing on that stage.

I grab my bag from the floor and bury my sparkly bikini top. I find the makeup remover wipes and begin scrubbing.

“You really sucked out there,” a female voice says from behind me. My eyes lift, looking above my own reflection in the mirror. There are three women looking at me: a blonde, redhead, and a brunette. It sounds like the start of a bad joke. I can tell it’s the brunette who said it by the smug look on her face.

“Come on Gigi, give her a break,” the blonde says, shouldering past her and stepping toward me.

“I’m just saying, she sucked. It’s not good for business so all of you should talk to Jimmy about getting her off that stage.” She glances around, trying to win votes for her cause. “She doesn’t belong here. It’s obvious she doesn’t want to be here,” she sneers, her eyes roaming over my body.

She’s right, I was terrible and I don’t want to be here.

It was harder than I expected and much more humiliating.

“You’re just worried someone’s going to get in on your action, Gigi,” the blonde says, sliding into the vanity next me and dropping a duffel bag onto the floor. “You and I both saw the way Chance and his buddy were looking at her and you’re pissed. When are you going to give up on that guy?”

“Fuck you Brittany. I’ll give up on him when I have his baby and him wrapped around my little finger,” she spits back in response. My mind swirls, wondering who this Chance guy is. With strippers fighting over him, he must be a real winner.

“In your dreams. He’s done with you. Just face it and move on—”

A firm knock on the door breaks up the catfight. “Yoli, Gigi, you two are on next.” The large bouncer steps in and dumps some crumpled up bills on the desk in front of me. He turns without so much as a glance my direction, following the redhead and Gigi out the door.

“Don’t worry about her. She’s a whore and this is all she’s got going for her,” the blonde says, brushing makeup along her jaw line. “Chance and his guys sometimes come in here when he’s not training for a fight and her claws come out, thinking he belongs to her. She’s living in some delusional state that a guy like that falls for a girl like her.” She laughs and it’s disarming. Brittany looks like an average girl. Well, one side of her face does. The other side is being painted up with dark eye makeup and the transformation isn’t complimentary.

“He fights?” I ask and inwardly groan. That’s all I could come up with?

“He’s a pro boxer, a big timer. His fights are on TV. He’s from St. Louis, still lives here actually. I’ve never really talked to the guy, but Gigi got her hooks in him one night and swears it was nothing but magic between the two of them. He hasn’t looked her way since.”

I nod, before turning back to scrubbing my face, not knowing what to say. “You’re Audrey’s sister, right?” she adds.

“Yeah, she’s my little sister.”

“I’m Brittany.” She reaches over, extending her hand.

“Mia.” I take her hand and smile.

“Nice to meet you Mia. Audrey’s a sweet girl. I hate she got caught up with Paul. He’s ruthless and preys on young girls like her. I knew she was in trouble when he started hanging out here more.”

“He comes in here?” I try to soothe the panic, before the words come out, but the lift of her brows tells me she heard it.

“Yeah, once in a while. Jimmy doesn’t want him here, but Jimmy doesn’t really have a say on who walks through the doors. The only one I’ve ever seen put him in place is one of the guys in Chance’s crew.” She smiles in a very relaxed way as I’m almost having a panic attack at the idea of seeing Paul in here.

“Maybe he won’t come in here now that Audrey moved away,” I say, focusing on removing the eyeliner and fake lashes.

“Rehab?” Our eyes lock in the mirror’s reflection.

“No.” My eyes drop. “Not yet anyway. She promises me she can kick it,” I answer weakly, still not convinced.

“I hope it works out for her. She told me about dragging you through her shit. I’m guessing that’s why you’re up there on that stage.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to pay off Paul.” I glance down to the few crumpled up bills on the counter. “At this rate, I’m going to be here for a long time.”

“Don’t let it discourage you. My first month was horrible. I was scared shitless and couldn’t dance for shit. I hardly made enough to cover the hour and half drive it takes to get here.”

My eyes widen. “You drive an hour and half to get here?”

“I go to MidWest University. You don’t think I’d strip in my own college town, do you?” she teases. Her eyes drop to my bag. “That explains a lot.” She juts her chin toward my ballet slippers in the mesh side pocket of my bag. “I thought you had amazing legs and you’re way too graceful to be up there grinding a pole.” She smiles brightly and winks.

“Thanks. Ballet is my passion…or at least it was. What about you? You said this was all Gigi had going for her. What’s your story?”

She shrugs. “I floundered around for a while, beauty school drop-out, but I got it together. I’m on my last semester and I’m outta here,” she smiles brighter than any of her others and I decide I like Brittany. “Accounting major. I just have to take my CPA exam and hopefully I can move to another city and leave all this behind.” She holds up a fake eyelash and smiles.

“No family here?”

“No, I bounced around foster homes most of my life. When I turned eighteen and the checks stopped coming in, my foster parents kicked me out and got a younger version that came with a check.” She shrugs as if she’s comfortable with it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, you didn’t. I’m okay. I mean…it is what it is. I’m twenty-three and have done a pretty decent job on my own.” Her hand comes up, swirling in the air, and then laughs.