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TESS

A COUPLE WEEKS LATER…

Sweat dripped down my back as I stepped offstage and disappeared behind the velvet curtain.

“Assholes.” I grumbled under my breath, my heels clicking against the concrete.

The dressing room was nearly empty, most of the girls had gone home already. But not me, I didn’t have anything better to do. Not since I left Feverpoint.

Peeling off my stilettos, I threw my singles on the vanity and started counting them. I only got through a few bills before I was comforted with his face. The fucking Messenger. Our patrons had started bringing in fake bills with his image on them a couple weeks back.

Instead of tipping us, they just threw this preachy bullshit on stage.

I grabbed the first few I saw and tore them in half, tossing them into the waste bin next to my makeup chair.

Someone has to stop this shit.

For a while, I thought it might be me. Me and my Freaks. We could have taken Rubin on together.

Until all of it came crashing down.

I felt bile rise in my throat.

Sucking my teeth, I threw my heels into my duffel bag and roughly wiped the makeup off my face.

Despite having time to process, I still couldn’t believe that they really thought I was capable of that.

Sure, maybe Cyrus bought it.

But Nash and Blade? They should know me better.

Before I let myself get too upset about it, I grabbed the last fake bills from my stack and read them. One had a date on it: today. It was an invitation to a vigil — or a sermon.

His cronies came in here, watched us dance, daydreamed about touching us, and then tried to convert us to their repressive religion. When we denied them, we were sluts and whores who should rot in the gutter.

According to them.

Rolling my eyes, I packed up the rest of my stuff and tucked the real bills into my wallet.

On my way out of Velvet Paradise, I swung into the Manager’s Office. “Nico, seriously, security has to take this shit at the door.”

Sitting at the cheap metal desk, Nico held her head in her palms as she rubbed her forehead. “I know, Tess. We’re working on it.”

“It’s a risk. They’re getting handsy in the private dances.” I lifted a brow, hoping she would have something to offer.

But Nico just nodded. “I’m sorry, Tess. I’m going to advise security on it.”

A wave of guilt washed over me. None of this was Nico’s fault, she was just a manager for a dying strip club with absentee owners. It wasn’t on her that Valemont was being swallowed by The Messenger and his acolytes.

The clients had gotten out of hand faster than Nico and her staff could have prepared for. “Have a good night. Thank you.” I offered her a curt smile before heading for the back exit. Nico was a good one, and hopefully she knew that she was appreciated.

Despite how rowdy things had gotten, Nico wasn’t afraid to lay down the law. When the customers laid hands on us, or yelled in our faces, Nico would storm out of her office and throw them out herself.

Even as more of them streamed inside by the day.

If only we had more bouncers.