“Holy shit, Abby. A doctor? How was the lunch?”
“It was good,” Abby said, smiling. “I like him. I think we might become friends.”
“Did you bitch him out for not wanting a lap dance?” Sam asked, pressing a tube of dark pink lipstick to her lips.
“No. We’re going to lunch again tomorrow.”
“I have a date with Adam Presley tomorrow after work,” Sam said, grinning.
“He’s married, Sam,” Abby said, frowning.
“To a total bitch. You’d feel sorry for him if you knew how bad she treats him.”
“What kind of a date can you go on at 3:00 in the morning?”
“A date at my apartment.”
“Be careful, Sam,” Abby said softly.
“Do you think I want to employ skanks?” Mickey’s voice, shrill with agitation, was heading toward them, and Abby stiffened. A young dancer whose stage name was Mindy Maxwell was storming toward them, with Mickey behind.
“Men come here to live out their fantasies!” Mickey yelled, waving his hands for emphasis. “How many of them do you think fantasize about a pussy with stubble? Get that shit waxed before you come back into my club!”
Mindy was tearful after his tirade, but she remained silent, grabbing her coat and leaving quickly.
“Let me see you two,” Mickey said, snapping his fingers at Abby and Sam, who both stood up. His eyes roamed them from head to toe, and since she knew he wasn’t aroused by women, Abby felt like a specimen being inspected.
“You’re still doing Pilates?” he murmured to Abby.
“Yes. Four times a week.”
He reached into her hair and pulled a long section around her shoulder, leaning down to smell it.
“Peppermint? I thought I told you coconut,” he said briskly.
“You did, but I like this one, and I want to have a unique scent,” Abby said.
“I like it,” he said, pushing the hair back over her shoulder and reaching for Sam’s. He sniffed a section and released it, staring into her eyes for a few seconds.
“You clean?” he asked.
“Yes, Mickey,” Sam said, looking away.
“I like you, Lacey. You make me good money. But if I find out you’re using, you’re out on your ass. No more chances. Understand me?”
Sam nodded silently. Abby hoped Sam wasn’t using again. She said she’d stopped, but Mickey had an uncanny ability to spot dancers who used drugs. Abby was afraid to touch drugs, alcohol or even cigarettes.
She opened with her “Angel of Harlem” routine, working her legs and hips around the pole. When she made her way to the row of men with bills ready, she found herself looking at them. Their faces ranged from young to old, clean shaven to bearded, but they had one thing in common: all of them stared hungrily at her body.
She employed her most reliable strategy for coping with the leering expressions; she thought about the money they were tucking into the string of her panties. It was fall, and she was already thinking about Christmas. It would be the first one in their new home, and she wanted to make it special. They would have a large tree surrounded with presents.
As she rubbed her powdery scented breasts into the scratchy beard of a strange man, Abby’s mind was on her plans to decorate the outside of the house with lights, which Sara had always wanted.
It was usually hard for Abby to drag herself out of bed for work on Friday mornings. By the time she finished at the club and got home, she was lucky to be in bed by 4 a.m. The demanding buzz of the 6:30 a.m. alarm always came too quickly.
But she felt more energized than usual by the thought of seeing Chris again. She dressed quickly in black linen pants and a dark green blouse that revealed just a little cleavage.
Strappy black sandals completed the outfit and showed off the red polish on her toenails. Since she was short on time, she swept her hair into a thick bun, letting a few pieces escape in the front.
“Abby, can I spend the night at Emily’s?” Audrey asked as she walked into the bathroom.
“Did you study for your math test last night?”
“Yes, with Justin,” Audrey answered, slightly annoyed.
“And is your room clean?”
“I’ll get it cleaned before school.”
“Okay, I’ll drop you off at her house after dinner.”
“Okay,” Audrey said, darting out of the room.
As Abby dropped her sisters off at school, her mind wandered to Chris. She chided herself for dreaming of him. He was a doctor, and she was a stripper. She had to be careful. She had been asked out by a lot of men at the club over the years she had worked there, but had refused all of them because she knew there was only one reason they wanted to date her.