As I climbed out of the cab and looked up at my apartment building, I sighed. Everything that had happened in the past few days seemed like some sort of dream.

The rest of the reunion had gone about as well as expected, with me dodging more bitchy comments and hateful stares. Finally, Ana had taken mercy on me and declared it time to go. I’d never been so relieved to exit a room in my life.

The following day was much better, just the two of us enjoying each other, laughing at old times and sharing our hopes and dreams. We’d eaten in, ordering take out since neither of us wanted to cook. We’d shared a bottle of wine, and then another, laughing and talking into the wee hours of the morning.

Next morning, at the airport, I’d been close to tears as I hung onto this beautiful girl. As much as I’d wanted to be home, I hadn’t felt like leaving.

I was definitely glad I'd slept with Reed. Maybe that was the problem, I thought as I trudged up the dark and dingy stairs. Apart from the actual reunion, things had gone so well that coming back here just made my real life seem drab and miserable by comparison.

I opened the door to my apartment and wrinkled my nose. Rosa had been trying to cook again. The stench of burnt something-or-other was still fresh. My roommate was three years older than me and had been stripping in Vegas since she was sixteen. Ten years later, she still worked at The Diamond Club, and it was even more sleazy than it had been when she'd started. She was nice enough, but we weren't close. She hadn't just accepted her life… she liked it. And she knew I didn't, which could make things a bit tense at times.

“You have messages,” Rosa announced as she came out of her bedroom.

“Thanks, Rosa.” I put my bag down and picked up the first one from Tammy.

As I read, I sat down, unable to believe my eyes. The note after Tammy's was from one of the other girls and said the same thing. Each one, some from co-workers, two from managers, was nearly identical. I needed to come down to The Twilight Room to pick up my last check and then go to the police station to give a statement about whether or not I'd ever been ordered to have sex with a patron.

“What the fuck?” I stared at the stack of papers.

“Sucks.” Rosa adjusted her bra, then reached for a coffee mug. “I heard some girls talking about it. Seems like The Twilight Room was a front for sex trafficking.”

I shook my head, unable to believe it. They didn't even make us get completely naked. How could that mesh with forcing women into being sex slaves?

She shrugged. “We got a couple spots open if you want a job.”

“Thanks, Rosa, but I'll be fine.” Even as I said the words, I wasn't sure they were true. The knot in my stomach said what my brain didn't want to recognize that soon I'd have to take her up on her offer. I cringed, hoping it would never come to that.

* * *

Six days, twenty-seven applications and no calls later, I was forced to admit that Rosa's offer was the best I was going to get. Girls willing to take off their clothes were a dime a dozen in Vegas and while I may have had better dancing skills, the clubs were more interested in tits and ass. Desperation finally overcame what little pride I had left and I went in for an interview. With Rosa vouching for me, I got the job and was able to start right away.

If someone had told me I'd miss The Twilight Room, I would've laughed at them, but The Diamond Club made my previous place of employment seem like a dream job. My first indication was the so-called interview where the manager told me to strip down in the middle of the club. Granted, there'd only been a cleaning crew there at the time, but it was still awkward, and it had gotten worse while he'd circled me, not touching but close enough to have made me even more uncomfortable than I'd already been.

I wasn't ashamed of my body, but being treated like a piece of meat wasn't something I enjoyed. I did my work at the club, taking off everything but a tiny g-string that could barely count as covering. We wore those during the shows, but I knew most girls stripped to nothing in the back room or during a private party. It was the unspoken rule that as long as the club got its percentage, it was up to the girls to decide how far they were willing to go. Rosa did the parties as often as she could and I never asked what she did to earn the tips.

Still, I declined the invitations for private performances and kept putting in applications wherever I could. The problem was, legit places looking for employees would always ask where I'd been working since coming to Vegas as my employment history clearly had a gap. As soon as I'd tell them The Twilight Room, I could see the interview was at an end. The places where I'd filled in my full history didn't even bother to call.

Still, I was managing to find a sort of rhythm with the work and that made blocking out the clients and wearing a smiling face much easier. It was harder when I was home, lying in the dark, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering what my life would've been like if I'd stayed in Philadelphia. It was then that the memories would come back. Sometimes it was my mom, other times Anastascia, but most often it was Reed and our night together. I knew it was stupid, but I clung to that memory, playing it over and over again.

I was dreaming about him when a noise woke me, raised voices coming from the other room. It took me a couple disorienting seconds to register that it was Rosa arguing with someone. A man. I sat up. It sounded like our landlord, Mr. Fenton. I climbed out of bed and threw on a t-shirt, heading for the living room.

“Like hell we will!” Rosa was yelling.

“What's going on?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as polite as I could.

“Fenton's saying we have to give him fifteen hundred dollars by the end of the week,” Rosa answered.

“For what?”

“Fixing some electrical problem.” Her dark eyes were flashing.

“According to my electrician, the issue was caused by improper usage,” Mr. Fenton said. “And since there's no way to tell where the problem started, each tenant will be providing me with compensation.”

I wondered what slick-ass lawyer had written that for him. Not that it mattered. Rosa and I would have to pay or Fenton would find some excuse to kick us out. He'd done it to Tyler and Mickey down the hall when they wouldn't sleep with him. Fortunately for Rosa and me, Fenton was strictly into dick. He might shake us down for money, but he'd never ask us to fuck him.

“You have until the end of the week.” He stormed off before either of us could argue more with him.

“Well, we're fucked,” I said without looking at Rosa.

“Maybe,” she said slowly.

Now I did turn toward her. “What'd you mean, maybe?”

“Godfrey got a call about a private party Friday night, a bachelor party. Guaranteed two thousand dollars, with the possibility of extra.”

I didn't need her to explain what the extra included.

“That's great,” I said. “I'll see if I can pick up an extra shift or two to help pay for my half.”

“I couldn't take the job.”

“Why not?”

“They asked for two girls and everyone else was busy Friday night.” She gave me a pointed look and I immediately knew what she was not-so-subtly hinting at.

I thought about what she wanted me to do, and about the zeros in my checking account. I thought about Mr. Fenton and how he wouldn't hesitate to kick us out. My only other option would be to ask Anastascia for the money. I knew my friend would have it and she wouldn't even hesitate to help me out. I also knew I couldn't ask for her assistance. I was out of choices.

I nodded. “All right,” I heard myself say. “I'll do it.”