Page 13 of Lucky Mother Pucker

“Oh, fuck,” Travis says.

That guilty feeling squeezes through my chest. I need to make this right with her.

Except I don’t know how. I don’t even know her name.

Chapter 6

Lucy

Ipull up to the brick exterior of a strip club called Gentleman’s Delight.

My stomach churns. Never in a million years did I think I’d ever apply for a job at a strip club.

But that’s exactly what I’m doing. It’s what I have to do to save Wally. To survive.

I take a few minutes to fill out the job application I picked up at the Mile High Diner half an hour ago. I would have just done it there, but then I saw that guy from the coffee shop, and I just wanted to get away from him.

A flicker of anger sparks through me when I think about how he tried to apologize. How he followed me even when I told him to leave me alone.

I didn’t want his apology. He didn’t even sound all that sorry. He just sounded like he was trying to unburden himself so he could go back to thinking he was a good person.

When I think about how he tried to give me cash out of his wallet, I get even more mad. He seriously tried to pay me off to alleviate his guilty conscience. What a jerk.

I finish filling out the form. I’ll drop it off later today. The head server I talked to was really nice and made it sound like I could start as soon as I turn my application in.

If I can work that job in the mornings and afternoons, and then work this job in the evenings, then I’ll make the money I need for a deposit on an apartment. I can finally pick up Wally, and we’ll finally have a home of our own.

I set the diner application on top of my passenger seat, then hop out of my car. I open the heavy metal door to the club and walk inside.

I stop just to take it all in. I’m twenty-one years old, and this is the first time I’ve ever set foot in a strip club.

The empty space is dark and hazy. I glance around. There’s a big stage in the middle of the space with three stripper poles. Two smaller stages, each one with a single pole, are on either side of the main stage.

Everything is black and shiny. The walls, the floor, and the bar in the back are painted the same glossy black color. Even the rickety tables and chairs adorning the space are black. It smells like stale smoke, beer, and cheap perfume.

“Can I help you?”

I turn and see a middle-aged woman standing behind the bar. Her hair is dyed bleach blonde, and she’s wearing the boldest shade of red lipstick I’ve ever seen.

I walk over to her. “I saw your sign outside. Servers wanted. Are you hiring?”

“We are.” She runs her gaze along the length of my body. “You sure you don’t want to apply to be a dancer? You’re a hot little thing. You’d make a killing. Especially with your red hair. Men love redheads.”

I let out a nervous laugh, shaking my head. “No, um, that’s not…I’m a horrible dancer.”

She laughs, then lights up a cigarette. “Oh, hon. It doesn’t matter how well you dance. The men that come here wouldn’t give two shits if you got on stage and did the hokey pokey as long as you did it topless.”

My mouth hangs open at her brashness. “Oh. That’s…good to know.” I cough. “But I really am only interested in the server job. I’d like to apply if that’s okay.”

“Suit yourself.” She leans down behind the bar and pulls out a paper application. “Fill this out.”

I hop onto the barstool next to me and complete the form.

When I finish, I hand it to her. “I’m sure you have to do a background check, but I swear, I have a clean record. I’ve gotten a couple of parking tickets, but I paid them.”

She waves a hand as she looks over my application. Her cigarette hangs out of the corner of her mouth.

“I’m sure you’re good, hon. You look too innocent to be a hardened criminal. No felonies, right?”