Stripped(37)

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I just don’t see how you could be serious about our relationship if you were grinding against other men three nights a week,” he said angrily. “Kind of takes the novelty out of it, right?”

“The novelty’s been gone for a long time, Chris. You and I are from different worlds.”

Abby crossed the kitchen quickly, grabbing her coat and purse from the couch.

“You’re leaving again?” he asked loudly. “You can’t just leave every fucking time we argue!”

“What else is there to say? You’re so condescending, Chris. Offering to do me the honor of being my boyfriend if I’ll quit my job.”

“That’s not the only job in the world.”

“No, it’s not. So how about if I quit mine and you quit yours?”

“Not the same thing, Abby. I don’t get other women off for a living.”

“I’m not a fucking prostitute, Chris! I’m a dancer, and yes, I strip. Quit making me feel so cheap. Isn’t that what everyone else is supposed to do?”

Chris recoiled, looking like she had slapped him. Abby was overwhelmed by her quick transition from happy, to aroused, to hurt and angry.

“I have to go,” she muttered, knowing she was about to make the transition to sad.





Abby came through the back door and threw her purse on the counter, relieved to be home.

“Hey,” Justin said, looking up from his homework in surprise. “You’re early.”

“Yeah.”

She sighed as she walked into the living room and saw Kathy, Audrey and Sara watching television. She focused on the screen, seeing a man’s guts spill to the ground as he was stabbed with a long sword.

“This is not appropriate for the kids,” Abby said, striding toward the television.

“They’re my kids, not yours,” Kathy said sharply.

“Well, I’m the one who has to get up with them at night when they have nightmares from this stuff.”

“What crawled up your ass and died? Did Dr. Wonderful cut the night short?”

Abby felt contempt for her mother rising inside her. She wished desperately for a mother she could come home and talk to, really talk to, and get sympathy and kindness from. She’d never have it. But she refused to give Kathy the satisfaction of knowing she’d had a bad night.

“No, Chris got called in to work,” she lied. “Audrey, Sara, come on, it’s bath time.”



The glare of the stage lights blurred the many faces in the crowd into an unrecognizable swirl. The club was busier than usual for a Thursday night.

Abby’s mind was still on a conversation she’d had with Audrey before work. Audrey had spent the night at her friend Katie’s house a couple of times, and Abby had suggested they host Katie this weekend. Audrey had been standoffish about it before admitting she was worried about what their Mom might say or do in front of her friend.

Abby’s heart had broken for Audrey. She was right. Abby had never even considered having a friend over when she was growing up. Going to other girls’ houses had usually just made her wistful for a normal home life.

Between that conversation and the glumness she’d felt since the fight with Chris, Abby was down. Dancing on the stage when she felt this way was easy because she could stay in her own world, but lap dances were tougher. She had to maintain eye contact and feign interest then.

As she left the stage after her dance, she considered just hanging out backstage instead of doing lap dances. But she knew Mickey would chase her out to the floor if she did, so she made her way to a man who signaled her.

He was old, she realized as she took his money. Probably close to 80. She hoped the dance wouldn’t give him a heart attack or anything. He kept his hands to himself, but Abby was still disgusted by simulating desire for someone elderly. She was glad when the dance was over.

Her next customer was the polar opposite. He was in his early 20’s, and he was all hands. Though she knew some men wouldn’t listen no matter how many times she told them not to touch, Abby wasn’t in the mood, and she grimaced as she felt his hands creeping up her stomach. As soon as she heard the last beat of the song, she jumped up to leave.

“Hey,” Sam said as she sailed by. “Your Greek God’s here.”

“What?” Abby stared at her in disbelief.

“Probably here to see you. He’s in the back corner.”

Abby blew past the customer gesturing to her, nearly running to get back to the corner. Sam had to be mistaken. Chris wouldn’t come here.

But there he was. He was alone, with three empty beer bottles on his table. She couldn’t read his expression as their eyes met. It was serious and intense. Had he come to talk to her?