Chapter 4

Gigi

Waking up to the sun streaming through the threadbare curtains without a cocaine headache almost makes me want to never use again. Dancing on stage last night sober to the thoughts of my dark stranger seems to have awakened something in me, something that makes me believe that there’s a future for me after all.

Thoughts of last night encourage me to turn my head, looking at the sleeping man on the other side of the bed. I have no hopes of a relationship with him, but I’ll be forever grateful for whatever fire he has sparked back into my life.

As quietly as I can manage, I climb out of bed in an attempt to not wake him. As much as I enjoyed our evening together, he’s too much like my father to continue what has started between us.

I slide my heels on, unsure of when he even took them off, and tug my bikini top back on. The walk of shame in such little clothing is going to suck, but I get naked for money and became shameless long ago. With one last look at his sleeping form, I leave him sleeping in a bed rumpled by my orgasms, and not his.

Despair always hits me in the chest when I open the front door to my crappy apartment, and today is no different. I look at my clean but dismal surroundings. The worn sofa and scarred coffee table are the only furnishings. Only a handful of dishes fill the cabinets in the kitchen, and limited food takes up space in the small fridge. Looking at my life from a bird’s eye view, going home almost seems better, but in doing so, I allow my parents to make decisions about my life. It’s a sacrifice I’m not willing to make anymore now than I was several years ago.

My options were the military or college, neither of which interested me then, and they sure as hell aren’t on my radar now. If I live at home, those are my choices. I asked my father last year at Thanksgiving to let me work at Jake’s Bar. I’d be happy there. I know I would. My mother worked there when she and my dad got together, so I know he doesn’t have an issue with Jake. It’s the thought of his daughter working as a barmaid that leaves him less than thrilled. He forbade me, dismissed the idea in a second flat. That same night I walked away from the Cerberus MC knowing it would be my last time to walk away from it.

“Pity party, table for one,” I mumble as I close my apartment door and kick off my heels.

Checking the calendar for tonight’s schedule, I determine that I can nap for a couple of hours before I have to head to work. Unfortunately, I only toss and turn for what seems like an endless amount of time before my cell chirps an alert to get ready.

I’m shocked when I arrive at work and my stranger isn’t waiting for me. Seems he got me out of his system even after his machismo act last night. Realizing I lost my virginity to a man whose name I still don’t know sends a chill down my spine. It’s reminiscent of the discomfort I felt after my first line of coke.

“I figured Chad would’ve fired your ass,” Peaches huffs as she all but shoves me out of the way to get in front of the dimly lit vanity.

“I guess he’s not ready to get rid of his top earner just yet,” I snip with a quick shoulder jab to regain my space in front of the mirror.

“You’ll be back at the bottom soon enough,” Dolly says interrupting our conversation. “I’ve been here eight years. Featured more times than I can even count.”

I huff a humorless laugh. “Seems like your good years are behind you.”

“Hardly,” she counters.

I cock an eyebrow at her. “Really? Your tits are nearly to your bellybutton, and you can’t even swing yourself a foot off the floor on the pole.”

Her eyes narrow, filling with a fire I hope I have in eight years after having to do God knows what in the future to survive.

“I have tendinitis in both elbows, you little bitch,” she sneers.

“Get over yourself,” Peaches says in a bored tone. “You know you’ll have to hang it up sooner or later.”

No one at this damn club has alliances. We’re all each woman for ourselves.

Peaches fluffs her hair in the mirror, taking over the space that Dolly vacated.

“We all will eventually,” she mutters taking stock of her own dim future.

I sigh and step back, guilty of my own self-doubt. It’s still on my mind after I change out of my t-shirt and yoga pants and put on another gaudy, barely-there bikini. My nerves, as I stand just off the stage, are nothing like they were the first time, but they’re still there.

I consider Vegas and the possibility of performing in some manner on Fremont Street. I have several months before I’m twenty-one and Vegas, other than the seediest parts, is known for being sticklers on the rules.

A new girl I’ve never seen before exits the stage and I can tell by the fresh look on her face that Chad has once again hired a teenager. She’s years away from twenty-one, but that doesn’t stop him from paying her under the table until she’s of age. He does the exact same thing for me.

The intro to Thunderstruck by AC/DC pulls me from worrying about her future and forces me out onto the stage. I have three dances on the stage tonight and then private dances if there are paying customers, which there always are. The lights seem brighter this evening, but I do my best not to squint and cover my eyes with my forearm.

I make it through more than half of my shift, and I hate that I’m disappointed that the guy from the last two days hasn’t shown. He heard me tell Gerardo last night that I’d be at work today.

“You make me so hot,” I lie as I grind down on a younger looking guy in the shadowed back booth of the club.

His hands clench on the cheap leather, unlike most guys who pay for private dances he keeps his hands to himself through the entire dance.

“I have lots of money,” he pants against my ear as my back and ass rub against his front. “Name your price beautiful, and I’ll gladly pay it.”

I get no less than half a dozen offers just like this a night, but tonight it stings more than usual. Forty-eight hours ago, I’d just blow it off and tell the truth that I don’t do that sort of thing. I’d give him the names of the girls that are always willing to go the extra mile for cash. Tonight, two days after I accepted cash for a quick fuck in the alley, I feel dirty. Not enough to give in, but shame hits me for the first time in over a year.

The song ends, and I pull away from him.

“Use it to buy your wife something nice,” I tell him with a quick look down at his left hand.

The sparkle from his gold wedding band caught my eye more than once during the two dances he’s paid for.

He clutches his left hand to his chest, coveting it and covering it with his right.

Shaking his head, I’m confused to see pain in his eyes, as if I’m going to search her out and tell her about his indiscretions.

“I’m not.” He shakes his head again, more violently than the first time. “She’s gone.”

And I’m a huge asshole.

I give him a sympathetic smile. “There are several girls here who work after hours.”

“No,” he rushes out. “It has to be you. You look like her.”

This poor sad bastard.

“Sorry,” I tell him shrugging back into my top. “I don’t do that sort of thing.”

I try not to think about the pitiful man who’s looking for nothing more than a connection to his wife after she’s gone. It’s difficult to comprehend that type of love for myself. My parents have it. I don’t know that either one of them would survive the loss of the other, but I’m beyond certain that type of love isn’t something I’ll find in this lifetime.