Rent was due. Rent was not being paid. Nor was there any money to pay the overdue rent.

What was Daddy thinking? I always had to go behind his back and check on these things. It was like he didn’t mind being evicted or something. As long as I lived with him though, rent was going to be paid whether he liked it or not. I was used to taking care of him.

Papers, papers everywhere. I was sitting in the middle of my bed in my small ass room. The mattress sat on the floor since box springs were for the wealthy. At least that was what I thought when I looked at the price. Even something like eighty bucks was a lot when you were struggling to make ends meet for your family.

I didn’t have any brothers or sisters to help us out, either. Dad and I were on our own. Too bad I didn’t get much help from him, either. He was just spinning his wheels in what looked like a severe bout of depression ever since he had lost his programming job a year ago.

The man had let himself go. Daddy used to be the shit. Now he moped around the apartment feeling sorry for himself, not giving a shit about anything.

Sometimes, I thought he didn’t give a shit about me either.

But that was too much of a thought to comprehend. I was sure Daddy still loved me— he was just too miserable to show it.

Tossing more papers around to read later, I took out my laptop and logged onto my father’s online bank account.

“Let’s see, there should be enough in here for—” Those big red numbers were bolded. And I didn’t like the amount either. “Overdrawn by seven hundred dollars?!” I shrieked. “Dad!”

Come on! We still needed to eat! I thought, huffing and puffing. How were we even going to buy food?!

I jumped off my bed and stomped down the small hallway. Opening his door, I saw that he was dead asleep, snoring peacefully in bed. That was the only time he didn’t seem miserable.

I sighed and slowly closed the door. I knew Dad didn’t need the added drama. But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I wanted to wake him up and yell at him.

Where did he blow past that money to put us seven hundred dollars down the hole?

Gambling?

Drinking?

I couldn’t exactly see him doing drugs. I bit my thumbnail and settled back down on the bed. I had to think of something quick.

“Maybe I can just pull a gig or two, get the money up and we’ll be okay… for another month.”

I pulled up the local paper online, searched classifieds and saw a few low paying jobs.

Waitressing? Nah, I’d be better off stripping…

Hmm.

I pulled myself off the mattress again and looked at my body. Nice curves, and I was athletic and limber.

The image of those red numbers was still burned completely into my head. All the strippers in the movies I’d seen weren’t poor. Yeah, they may’ve lived in some cruddy places, but they were saving up for better.

Hmm.

I slipped on some short shorts, a tank top to show off my shape, and grabbed my red purse. One more choice. Shoes.

I hated heels. But if I had a shot at getting anywhere, I was gonna need them.

Inhale.

Exhale.

You can do this, Wendy. No one really remembers you, anyway. You don’t have to stay a stripper, you can leave. At any time!

The money was probably going to be so good I’d get hooked.

Too bad though— I’d have to worry about that later. Rent was due, and we only had a five day grace period. And if I didn’t settle that overdrawn balance soon, the bank would cause us to dig deeper into the hole, with countless fees and whatnot.

Here goes nothing.

I walked out the front door of the house, making sure to lock up behind me. I was sure my dad would be sleeping all day, as he was prone to do during the low peaks of his depression. He wouldn’t notice I was gone, or ask where. Not that I even knew where I was going. I had no particular place in mind, but I knew the area where all the strip joints were located in this town.

Some called it the Red Light district.

Some called it the Meat House due to its prostitutes.

But this was the south end of the city, and all the seedy places were nestled right there among its inhabitants. Some men whistled as I walked by. I was even solicited for drugs.

But eventually I made my way down to the main thoroughfare where all the strip joints were.

I walked up to one. It was painted all in gold.

Meh, kind of tacky looking, I thought.

The double doors swung open and a woman with shoulder length curly hair stomped out of there with someone that looked to be… an assistant? Huh? In this part of town.

“Come on! There are no women here good enough—” She turned and happened to see me. Stopping in mid-sentence, she stared at me for a couple silent moments.

“Umm,,” I stammered. “Something wrong?” I asked, feeling self conscious.

“Hmm,” she hummed, slowly circling around me like a vulture. “You don’t work here, do you, darling?” she asked, looking me up and down and up again.

“No… I want to—”

She shot her gaze at me. “No, dear, you do not. If you’re that desperate, let me help you find love!” she said, a slip of a French accent coming out along with her strange words.

“Love? I don’t need love. I need to pay bills right now.” I held onto my purse, shifting in my heels so I didn’t get achy feet. This woman was well dressed in a black dress with wonderful gold bangles. I admired her fancy fashion. She actually matched the black Mercedes that sat in the front. That had to belong to her.

“Love can do that too…”

“Wait, you’re not trying to pitch some brothel to me, are you?” I asked, taking a step back. I mean, this was a seedy area, so it wouldn’t have surprised me at all.

“No, I am Eliza Rousseau—”

I threw my hands over my mouth. For a second I thought she looked familiar, but dismissed the thought.

“You’re… Oh my god! Down here?”

She laid her hands on my shoulder and we approached the black Mercedes. Wow, the Eliza Rousseau. She was known for hooking up billionaires that were looking for love. But in reality, they were probably just high priced escorts.

“Yes, down here. I was looking for some more girls to add to my catalogue. You never know who might make a good match for whom.”

“Is it… sex?” I asked.

Her assistant stifled a giggle, but remained behind us, her head down.

“Sometimes. But that’s completely up to you. You see, sometimes business men need dates or just a pretty face by their side,” she explained, her floral perfume wafting around her. The clinking of her bangles was relaxing as well. It was almost like her presence was hypnotizing.

Billionaires. And sex would be a choice. Not mandatory. I was thinking this set up sounded like a better option than stripping.

“When would I start?”

Eliza shoved a black and gold card in my hand. “Call me. I’ll log your details in and when there’s a match, I’ll call you. You can get paid from anywhere from about five thousand dollars, to millions!”

I had to let that last word gel with me… Millions.

“Wow…”

“But that’s if I call. And looking at you and those curves and that hourglass figure? It’ll be soon.” Eliza went around to the driver’s side of the car and unlocked it. Her assistant caught up and stood at the passenger side.

I was grateful for the compliment. I guess I looked better than I had given myself credit for when I was looking at myself in the mirror.

“Just promise me one thing,” she said, before ducking into her car.

“What’s that?” I asked, thinking I’d promise her anything if I could make a million dollars.

“Don’t go in there and strip,” she said. “And don’t go anywhere and strip, for that matter. Seriously, I can get you something much better.”

I half smiled at her, dubiously. It wasn’t that I wanted to be a stripper. It was just a matter of necessity.

“Okay,” I told her, hoping I wasn’t making the wrong decision. Those bank fees were increasing in number every day, and I knew there had to be good, fast money to be made within the gold-painted doors of that strip club. “I’ll hold out for a little while.”