Bracing a fist against the shower wall, Justin grinned and shook his head. He’d been an idiot that first night, thinking he was all that while living fast and hard amid gunfire and turf wars. “Idiot” didn’t even begin to cover it.
Grabbing his towel, he dried off as muffled, bass-heavy music drifted through the locker room. The first screams from the crowd went up. His stomach did the ever-familiar flip. Dancing for dollars would never be second nature to him the way it was to Levi, but the money had always been as good as they’d promised. And he had a large debt to repay—to his mom and to Second Chances.
He grabbed his first costume. Time to pay a few bills.
* * *
JUSTIN STOOD IN the wings and waited. Nick’s routine was almost over, and the stagehands had swept up cash twice already. It would be a nice take.
Levi slipped in beside Justin, wearing his fireman costume—a crowd favorite. “We’ve got a full house tonight.”
That stomach flip thing happened again. Justin hated the tension of standing around waiting. It was easier to show up as the other guy’s set was ending. Then he could simply walk onstage as soon as his props were set. But Levi had rearranged a few things when he’d recently bought into the club as a partner, and one of those things was that the next dancer had to be ready and waiting off stage in order to prevent delays. Despite Justin’s irritation, he had to admit it worked well. They’d been able to add in two extra routines a night, and that meant higher revenues for everyone involved. Still, it didn’t do anything for his butterflies other than give them sharp-edged wings.
The dark-haired man glanced over. “Seems odd this is your last regular weekend.”
“Yeah.” Justin ran a hand around his neck and pulled hard enough his arm shook with the strain. “It won’t change too much, though.”
“We’ll see.”
Assessing the crowd, Justin’s gaze skipped from face to face as he considered his routine. He recognized a few regulars who tipped well. He’d work their seats hard. A couple of tables sported bride sashes and tiaras—wedding groups were always good money. Those were added to his front list. The rest of the tables were crowded with unfamiliar faces. He’d watch those customers, see how they responded to him and react accordingly.
Guilt burned in his belly. This was the part he hated, casing the crowd like some damn dollar-bill desperado, deciding who was worth the bulk of his time after just a couple of quick passes.
He’d learned the skill on the streets, how to single out the best chump or the weakest link. Using that skill now left him feeling tainted, as if he was selling not only his body but his hard-won integrity, as well. Such a long way he’d come, climbing out of the gutter only ten years ago. It was a lifetime and just yesterday.
“Does it ever bother you?” he asked quietly. “What we do?”
Levi didn’t look at him when he answered but kept his eyes on the crowd. “No. We’re feeding a fantasy for them, a craving to desire and be desired. As a psychologist, you know that better than any of us.” When Justin didn’t immediately answer, the taller man glanced his way. “What’s bugging you?”
“Not sure.”
“You need to get laid.”
Justin grinned and shook his head. “That’s your answer for everything.”
“I’m serious. When was the last time you got some?”