Page 76 of After Midnight

On the corner stands a two-story black brick building with enormous windows wrapping around both sides, tinted dark enough that I’m not immediately able to see inside. The glass reflects the late-morning sunlight, making it appear to glow gold. A For Rent sign is wedged into one of the windows, and it draws me closer. I tug Seb along behind me, then release his hand to peer through one of the tinted windows.

The space has exposed brick painted white, high ceilings, and beautiful hardwood floors, though they look a little dusty. Without meaning to, I start picturing poles dotted about the space, with aerial silks tucked alongside the walls. Maybe a speaker system in the back corner, with pink lighting and gauzy curtains over the windows.

Holy shit.

I’m picturing a pole studio. My own pole studio.

It’s something I’ve considered: teaching classes once I decide to leave stripping. But it feels like I’m still a long way out from that, and Riley’s school tuition isn’t yet paid. So even though this is a gorgeous space, it makes no sense right now.

Not to mention the fact that it’s in LA, and I live in Vegas.

The thought makes me feel . . . conflicted. I love Vegas. It’s home to me.

But as I turn my head slightly to glance up at Seb, who now has his face close to the window, using one hand to shield his eyes to see through the glass, I get the feeling that I’m starting to be pulled in two directions, and maybe home can be more than a place.

Maybe it can be a person.

“Cool building,” he says, leaning away from the window, his gaze meeting mine. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing.” I take one step back and shrug, waving the dreamy idea away as if it’s dust in the desert air. “It’d just make a cool pole studio. But rental space here is probably astronomical . . . and it’s not like I live here.”

His expression flickers. He looks at me, then the space, then me again. I don’t know what’s going through his head, but I can see his mind working.

Would he want me to move to California?

The thought is kind of ridiculous. We’re still getting to know each other; I’m not sure if we’re even actually a couple or not. And my life is in Vegas. Though I’m not sure why I keep needing to remind myself of that.

I sip more of my mango-pineapple juice and cast my gaze across the street, where there’s a little stand set up, selling something that smells really good, like carbs and salt and oil. “Come on,” I say, wiggling my fingers for Seb to take my hand. “All this walking made me hungry again. Let’s eat something.”

There’s some reluctance in his movement, and he glances once more back at the rental space. Then, with a small smile, he takes my hand, and we leave the black brick building behind.

chapter 34

Remi

PALISADES PARK IS GORGEOUS. IT’S a long, narrow park, with big grassy areas, towering palm trees, meandering sidewalks, and the Pacific Ocean in the distance, sparkling under the early-evening sun.

Seb guides me through the crowd of people, wearing a ballcap pulled low over his face, his sweatshirt hood pulled up over it.

I guess when people expect LGC to be around, he has to be more careful about being recognized.

“Are you supposed to be out here?” I ask him as we weave through a group of people taking selfies in the soft evening light.

He glances back at me, his lips lifting into a smile that shows off his dimples. “Technically, no. But I want to introduce you to Jordan before I go meet the guys backstage. And pet some dogs.”

“You could just give me her number,” I suggest, glancing around, expecting at any moment that people are going to realize who he is and swarm us. “I could find her on my own.”

Seb shakes his head. “Nah. I’ll take you. Plus”—his lips lift in a sideways smile—“I wanna see the dogs.”

His words make my chest go a little warm.

I’m used to being alone, to being independent. It’s a huge part of who I am. But I find that I actually kind of like that Seb wants to take care of me, even if I don’t need it. So, I let him lead me through the crowds and food trucks and all the vendor booths, until he finds a big tent with Wag Dog Rescue displayed on the bright teal fabric.

The space bustles with people, and inside and around the tent are huge playpens with rescue dogs, where people can meet them, sit a while, and get to know them. The tent is set up quite a distance from the main stage, where LGC will perform—probably to ensure the music isn’t too loud for all the dogs. Another band is onstage right now, an opener, and the music is low enough at this distance to be comfortable.

Seb and I pause at a playpen holding a litter of black-and-white puppies, and we pet them and let them nibble our fingers.

“Why don’t you have a dog?” I ask Seb.