The bar we went to was purposefully trashy. People who had more money than most in the area liked to pretend to be average for the night, so they built an ironic bar in a poor area and made the daring walk from their pretty cars to the painted rough exterior door with the two huge security guards who pretended to be bouncers.

Carly loved it. She got to drink beer and smoke cigarettes while watching men who normally played golf attempt to own a pool table. Occasionally, there was even a guy in attendance who had a visible tattoo, and not just one that they’d gotten in a fraternity dare.

I found the experience surreal every time. I’d lived in the Rage MC clubhouse, where there was a bar very much like the one I was meeting Carly at, only it was the real deal. No one had money, unless it was illegally obtained, and none of the brothers had ever even touched a golf club. They chugged whiskey and chain-smoked cartons of cigarettes before doing things that would make the nice people attending Stiff’s go red in the face. I definitely preferred Stiff’s crowd to the Rage MC brothers, though. I didn’t have to worry about anyone dying because they’d offended a brother.

The security guards recognized me, and one of them stepped forward to open the door for me. “Ms. Carly is already inside.”

I groaned out loud. “Which means she’s currently deciding which idiot I should take home. Next time keep her out here, would ya?”

He laughed. “We’ll do what we can.”

The inside of Stiff’s was painted to look like it was run down. There wasn’t a speck of real dirt anywhere in the place, but the new paint still looked dirty in places. The pattern of the dirt was too even and perfect to ever look real, though. The barstools even had distressed leather material covering them that was so soft you could wrap your baby in it.

A big guy named Rob was behind the counter, pouring beers with a faux scowl on his face. He caught my eye and nodded toward the back room where the pool table was. That was another thing about the bar. The staff was so helpful. They remembered faces and made sure to take care of the patrons appropriately the next time they came in. I’d never seen anyone at the MC be even remotely helpful.

I found Carly sitting on a stool with a pool stick in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She waved to me with the cigarette hand, and then pointed to a guy standing near the table. “I’m playing Rick here to see whether or not I should go out with him.”

I sent a small smile to Rick, and then put my bag down beside Carly. “I’m going to get a drink. I say win this game. Rick has adjusted his balls no less than five times since I walked in. If that’s not a rash, I don’t know what is.”

She glanced up and groaned. “I didn’t even notice. Fine. It’s really too bad, though. He’s actually kind of cute.”

I saw her eyes squint at the corners, and I pinched her arm. “Stop it. I can see you considering how bad the rash is. Win the game and send the poor guy on his way.”

“You’re right. This is why I keep you around.”

I rolled my eyes at her and went to the bar. Rob was already handing me my usual—ice with just enough water to make it look like I was having a double shot of vodka. “Thanks, Rob.”

The night progressed as it usually did. Carly got wasted within an hour of being there and after another hour of feeling as if she were on top of the world, she got sick and then wanted me to take her home. It worked for me perfectly.

I only ever had to put in a couple of hours at the bar. I felt bad for just looking at it as a chore, but I didn’t drink, and I was never truly comfortable around the type of guys that went to Stiff’s. I liked having my fun in other ways.

As usual, Rob called a cab to get Carly home. Whomever she’d been talking with got kicked to the curb because I never allowed anyone to go home with her. Then, we went to her place and I put her in bed before heading to work. It was Carly’s way of living life on the wild side as safely as possible. She always woke up the next day, laughing about it.

After completing our ritual, I got to work a few minutes early and changed into my first outfit. Slipping on the cowgirl costume, complete with lasso and cowgirl hat, felt almost like slipping into an old T-shirt that still smelled like home. As awful as it made me feel to admit, I was more used to, and more comfortable, donning the tiny outfit and dancing for a club full of men than I was at a bar full of guys who were at least pretending to be interested in my mind.

Stripping was what I knew. I’d spent so much time living on the cusp of society that it’d stained me, somehow. I knew the rules at a place like Benny’s Paradise. I knew the characters. I fit in. It seemed like I was just struggling to blend in when I was anywhere else.

When it was my turn to take the stage, I walked slowly to the front and lightly gripped the pole as I waited for my cue to start. The music, a gritty rap number, started and I moved my body to the heavy beat. Cheers and suggestive calls met me, but I tuned them out. Instead, I focused on the music.

Benny’s had a pretty impressive lighting set-up. Flashing lights strobed around me, highlighting my body, and creating a rave-like feeling. It was blinding on the stage, but I liked that I couldn’t see the audience.

I pulsed and vibrated to the beat, but when the lights flashed just right, I caught a glimpse of the audience. My body stuttered and I had to catch myself on the pole. I tried desperately to see through the lights, even going as far as holding my hand over my eyes to get a clearer view.

I thought I’d seen a snake tattoo. My heart raced painfully in my chest, and it was all I could do to finish the routine and then run off the stage.

Charlie, the stagehand, met me going onto stage as I was running off. “What happened up there, Rae?”

I ignored him and rushed into the main bar area, searching desperately for a snake-tattooed arm. I shoved past men and other women carrying drink trays until I was certain I’d been wrong.

My stomach was in knots just from thinking I’d seen Snake, president of Rage MC. He was locked away for drugs and guns. I knew he was locked away, but thinking I’d seen him scared the hell out of me.

I went back to the dressing room and changed into my second outfit, still feeling chills up and down my spine. No matter how many times I told myself that I’d just imagined seeing him, my heart wouldn’t slow down. I took a big drink of water and stared at my reflection in the mirror, touching up my makeup with hands that shook.

“You okay? Charlie said that you freaked out on stage.” Melanie, a pretty woman who’d just started, stopped and rested a hand on my shoulder. “Did someone grab you?”

I quickly applied more lipstick and shook my head. “I’ve had a headache all day. The lights just got to me for a second, I think.”

She grabbed a bottle out of her purse and handed it to me. “Aleve. I live and breathe it. Just leave it on my table when you’re done. I’m up. I’ll check on you afterwards.”

I smiled at her and waved as she headed toward the stage. I went ahead and put her bottle up for her.

It’d become easy to lie to people about my sudden “headaches.” No matter how much time passed since I’d last seen Snake, I still reacted to thoughts of him with so much fear it was nearly paralyzing at times. Without fail, I thought I saw him at least once every few weeks. In the crowd at Benny’s or while leaving the library, I’d catch a glimpse of someone and panic because my mind saw Snake. It’d become normal to just write off my bizarre actions as a severe headache.

After another mediocre set, I managed to eventually shake off the feelings and forget about it. I hung out with Melanie backstage and even agreed to have a drink with her after our shifts ended.

By that time of night, most of the family men had gone home. It left an unpleasant mix of slurred parties and regulars who thought they were friends with us women. The women on stage at that point of the night were tired, too. They worked the unlucky shift. Most men had already thrown out all of their money. At times, they were literally just dancing to dance.

Melanie and I sat at the corner of the bar, away from everyone, dressed in our street clothes. She ordered up a shot of some flavored vodka, and I ordered another water.

“Just water?”

I pointed at my head. “I took those pills and I don’t like mixing. Don’t worry; I don’t feel gypped.”

She laughed and bumped her drink to mine after Benny, who was also bartending, dropped them off. “Are you feeling any better?”

I nodded. “Yeah, thanks. Just tired. It’s been a long day. Do you work tomorrow?”

Before she could answer, a heavy palm landed on the curve of my ass. Hot breath blew down my neck and the smell of male sweat overtook me. I turned, just as the drunken idiot squeezed my ass, and landed an elbow square in his ribs.

When he stumbled backward, I stood up and grabbed my bag. I hit the guy in the side with it and glared at him. “Don’t touch me, asshole.”

Melanie cheered and threw back her shot. “Well, that’s my cue. It’s time to walk my tired ass home.”

I nodded, still glaring at the man who stiffly walked away without saying a word. “Me too.”

“I like that move. You had some serious strength behind that elbow. You have to show that to me.”

“Anytime. I took a few self-defense classes last year. I guess they stuck.” I knew they stuck. I’d taken every workshop the shelter offered. I wasn’t an idiot. Despite the fact that ten years should make Snake forget about me, I worried that he would want to find me when he did finally get out. That was my reasoning for the self-defense lessons and the emergency bag stuffed under my kitchen sink, taped to the metal basin. I was going to be ready if I didn’t manage to get out of Jackson before he came looking for me.

Melanie said her goodbyes after we walked through the parking lot. She offered me a ride, but I needed the semi-fresh air after my scare that night.

I walked home, avoiding the shadows and listening for anything that didn’t belong. My body was on high alert, no matter the fact that I hadn’t actually seen Snake.

By the time I got to my apartment, I was sweaty and ready for another lukewarm shower. My third act of the night involved body glitter, and I was sparkling like a disco ball under the streetlights. If I wanted everyone to know what I did at night, I’d just leave it on and go to brunch with Carly the next day. As it was, I wanted a shower to remove it.

Brandon and Jenny were fast asleep, their TV screen bright blue and sucking up energy. I put my bag down and stretched out my aching body. I was tired, and I couldn’t wait to fall asleep on the rock-hard couch that came with the place.

I let my hair down from its top bun and brushed it out by their blue light. I moved in front of the mirror and sighed. I needed a vacation.

The thought made me laugh and I shook my head just as a whoosh of air went past my face. I screamed and ducked down, afraid to know exactly what was happening.

Someone was in my apartment. The second I felt a big hand fist my hair and yank my head back, I knew I hadn’t been wrong about seeing Snake. My heart contracted in my chest until I thought it would evaporate in its cage. I knew the hair move. Snake loved grabbing me and jerking me backward by my hair.

Fear, as I’d only ever experienced when Snake was present, latched onto my body and I stiffened painfully as Snake’s face appeared in front of mine.

Snake was back. He leered at me and lifted me to my feet with my hair. “Look what the cat finally dragged in. I’ve been sitting here, waiting for you for hours, baby. Tell me, what keeps a whore like you out so late at night?”