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I do not expect to find myself driving to a club, more specifically, Sinner’s Lounge.
What a funny coincidence. So that’s where she’s waitressing.
Was that why she’s kept it from me for so long? The place isn’t a shabby disgusting hole she needs to hide from me, despite the club’s shady past. When I pull up outside of the club, I spot Jorge. He has just walked out with a beautiful, dark-skinned woman on his arm, guiding her toward his bike. He nods toward me as I get out of my car.
“Hey there, long time no see. What are you doing here?” he says, climbing onto his bike. “Oh, this is Scarlette, my girl.” The young woman gives me a nod.
“Hey, what’s up?” I ask. “My girl forgot her phone, so I stopped by to bring it to her.”
“Your girl? She works here?” Scarlette asks, settling behind Jorge.
“Sure does. Lizzie.”
Scarlette’s eyes light up. “Oh, you’re lucky. She just went on stage. If you hurry up, you’ll see her dance.”
“On stage?”
“Yeah, better hurry.”
“See ya, bro,” Jorge says before revving the engine.
They ride off, and I turn to the doors of the club, wondering what the hell is going on.
33
LIZZIE
The stage lights dim, and I take my position.
Tik. Tik. Tik.
The music starts, and the lights blaze to life, unveiling me on the dancefloor. The pulsating rhythm of “You Can Leave Your Hat On” by Joe Cocker fills the air as I slip into my old routine, letting the beat flow through my body like I’ve done so many times before. I can feel the energy building in the room as I deftly shed my gloves, tossing them overhead, and lose myself in the dance.
That all comes crashing down when, out of the corner of my eye, I spot him—Dillan.
He’s standing in the audience, eyes locked on me.
Oh…no.
No, no, no.
Panic sets in. My heart drops, and my body breaks out in a cold sweat.
My body moves on autopilot, but my mind races. How is he here?
This is not how I wanted him to find out.
Shitshitshit.
To top it off, “You Can Leave Your Hat On” is the quintessential stripper song. Could this night get any more interesting?
Luckily, I don’t freeze or misstep like I did the last time he was here. I twirl and spin, desperately trying to maintain my composure. The crowd cheers, oblivious to the internal chaos unraveling in my mind.
I sneak glances at him, and our eyes keep meeting.
It’s hard to gauge his expression from where I am, but I’ve got a feeling he probably isn’t too pleased to see his girlfriend and the mother of his child dancing for strange men. Even worse, he doesn’t know that this was supposed to be my farewell performance. He’ll never believe that today was an exception. Sure, I’m fully clothed, but that will be no excuse to him.
A few moments later, the song finishes, and I throw my hat into the crowd.
