A person will do anything to survive… anything.
CHAPTER THREE
Amy
THREE HOURS OF “training” and I was ready for my debut. The training consisted of girls teaching me all the things I should be careful of when dancing. Never let a man pull you into a dark corner — unless he pays. No sex — unless he pays. No touching—unless he pays. When I told them I thought it was just dancing, they laughed at me.
Apparently money really did talk and the girls were willing to do anything to make more of it. I was surprised to find out that a few of them were pretty well off, making more than what someone would start out working full-time with a degree, but that didn’t make me feel any better.
It was what I was doing.
Dancing, basically naked, in front of people, and earning money for it. Earning money for my skinny, barely fed body.
I was fit, only because I was forced to walk everywhere.
I was tan because walking meant I was outside all the time.
And I was skinny because oatmeal and Top Ramen were the only two things I had in my apartment at any given time.
The last chocolate cake I had was for my sixteenth birthday. Funny, my twenty-second birthday had been yesterday.
The day I’d gotten fired.
The same day I’d finally given up.
No cake. No candles. No Axton. I closed my eyes against the painful memories.
“What’s your wish?” Axton whispered, holding the cake up so I could blow out the single candle he’d put there. “Tell me.”
“I want a palm tree.”
He laughed. “In Chicago?”
“No silly, in Florida, or Texas, or California, just… somewhere warm. I want a palm tree in my yard.”
His expression grew serious. “And if I can’t let you go?”
My heart sped up. “Then you’ll have to find a way to bring me the warmth here…”
He moved an inch closer to me, his mouth so close to mine I could almost taste him, then he lifted the cake and whispered, “Blow.”
It was hard enough breathing let alone blowing out a single candle, but I did it.
He set the cake down and pulled me in for a hug. “I won’t let you go. So I guess I better figure out a way to keep you warm, huh?”
“You let me know when you have the answer,” I mumbled against his chest.
“On your eighteenth birthday,” he vowed. “I’ll tell you then… it will give you something to look forward to.”
Silly that on my eighteenth birthday I sat outside the foster home I was in and waited for him. As if he’d suddenly come back to life and come rescue me.
I cried for him that day.
I cried for me.
“New girl!” Someone clapped in front of my face. “Time to get dressed!”
With a sigh, I stood and followed her into a tiny dressing room where girls were piling on layers of makeup and hairspray like it mattered what they looked like when all the men were just there to get drunk and horny.
“Here.” She tossed something black at me and moved in front of a mirror to fluff her hair.
I lifted up the measly scrap of fabric and nearly choked. “What is this?”
“It’s a type of leotard.” She shrugged, still not taking her eyes off the mirror. “It barely covers the girls, but gets the guys wild because it still leaves a bit to the imagination. You’re lucky the manager doesn’t make you go out there topless, everyone else had to when they started.”
“Oh.” I clutched the leotard tighter. “So where do I change?”
The girls all stopped what they were doing, shared a look, and burst out laughing. The one named Sherry winked. “You ain’t got nothing we haven’t seen before, kid. Now strip.”
Strip.
My new job title.
With a gulp, I slowly began doing just that, hands shaking the whole time.
CHAPTER FOUR
Axton
MY DAMN PALMS were sweaty as I drove to the location Sergio had given me. I hadn’t been out for years.
Years.
I’d been a ghost, just like my brother, not really existing. Living on one of the large family ranches. We had more money than we knew what to do with, and I was more than happy to sit there and finish my PhD, not that I’d probably ever be able to use it, all things considered. My last name was either like being a celebrity in Chicago or a death dealer. It wasn’t rare to see someone drop my credit card with trembling hands or freaking bow. Yes, a teen actually bowed to me at the gas station and then asked if it was all true.
And I wanted to say was, “yeah let me show you my gun.”
Instead I told him I had no idea what he was talking about.
I’d only gone to prison for a few months. The feds couldn’t tack anything to me or most of my family.