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Chapter Six
Helen
On the floor of the dressing room at work,I counted out a thick stack of bills. It looked like a lot, but it was mostly ones. The sight of the cash filled me with relief and sickness. But I kept counting. It was what I did: moved on, did what needed to be done to survive, no dwelling.
Carina sat down across from me, kicking off her platform heels. “How much, girlie?”
“I’m not done, but it looks like a little less than nine hundred,” I answered.
She whistled. “Girl, you know you’d make bank in the private rooms.”
I shook my head. “I know, but I can’t. If a dude got handsy—which we both know they do, don’t try to tell me otherwise—I’d be carted out of here in cuffs. I don’t have the disposition to let that shit slide.”
I worked at a strip club and had since the beginning of summer. Ninety-five percent of the time, I served drinks in booty shorts and a crop top. Tonight had been part of the five percent I tried not to think about.
The first time, I’d promised myself it was a one-time thing. I hated every second of taking my clothes off on stage. The jeers, the sweaty, frothing men staring at me…I felt disgusting the whole time. But I made a lot of money doing it—money I needed because of my poor excuse for a mother.
“I get that, babe. I guess I’m too good at detaching my brain from my body. It’s like it’s not even me they’re touching, you know?”
Carina was one of the few dancers I liked at Savage Beauties. The rest were catty bitches, but she was real and sweet for a tough girl. She had a kid she was raising on her own, and like me, she did what she had to do to survive. She was a bomb-ass dancer, with a fat ass and gorgeous tits, so she was rolling in green every night she worked. I liked serving in her section because her customers tended to be in happy, spendy moods.
“Tonight was desperation, C. I make enough to get by serving.” I tucked the cash in my purse and stretched my legs out in front of me. They were shiny with oil, and my toes were red from being stuffed into borrowed platforms a full size too small. “And maybe I don’t want to get to the point where I can detach from my body.”
She gave me a sad smile. “Yeah, I get that.” Then she nudged my leg. “No more blues tonight. You made some good money. You’ll be square with the scary dude. Take a victory lap.”
That made me laugh. Carina had lived through a lot of darkness and didn’t blink when I shared mine. She knew about Reno, Amir, my little sister, and my wretched mother. She’d even offered to front me the money I owed, but I couldn’t take it. Not when it was going toward building a life for her and her kid.
Besides, showing my tits and ass to a bunch of pervs didn’t kill me. It made me feel gross, but I was alive and mostly intact. I hoped like hell I could avoid a repeat performance, but I’d ride the pole again if I needed to. It was a strange comfort to know I always had that as backup.
I climbed to my sore feet and reached down to help Carina up. She took my hand, and we almost both went down when she wobbled on her sky-high heels.
“Thanks, boo.” She smacked a kiss on my cheek. “See you tomorrow night?”
“Yep.” I squeezed her bicep. “I’m out. Have a good night, love.”
It was a long bus ride home. In my suite, I scoured the oil and memories off my skin until I was raw, then climbed into Madeline’s old sheets, tucked them around me, and fell into an exhausted, dead-to-the-world sleep.
The Palisades never changed. It had been in the same state of decay for as long as I could remember. And for the most part, it was like the Hotel California—people never checked out.
I guess I should’ve said they rarely checked out. My best friend, Gabe, used to live in the trailer behind mine. He moved up and out after graduating high school, using his soccer skills to land him a full ride to college. I was happy he had no more ties to this place, even if I felt somewhat left behind. Not that I blamed him. I’d turn my back on this place in a heartbeat if Luciana weren’t here.
After dropping off the cash I owed Amir, I skated to my old neighborhood to pick up my sister. She was waiting for me outside the trailer, her own skateboard in her hands. Since she’d moved back in with our mom last summer, she’d become my mini-me. I got her a board and taught her how to skate. She stole my Supreme hat and saved her pennies for a pair of checkered Vans. I bought her a pair of black high-tops, because I liked having a mini-me a little too much.
“Luc!” I called.
Her smile was bright and wide. “Hells!”
“Come on, girlie. I’m starving.”
She ran down the two steps leading to our trailer, rushing toward me. The front door opened, and my mom stuck her head out. Once upon a time, people would smile at us and tell her I could be her twin. That was before the pills and heavy drinking had demolished her beauty. Now, she was rail thin with a bloated face, mottled skin, and sunken eyes. Victoria Ortega was a shell of her former self. Looking at her would’ve made me sad if she didn’t make me so very angry.
“Not gonna say hi to your mom, Helen Maria?” She lit a cigarette and took a long drag.
“Hi, Mom.” Luciana reached me and tucked herself into my side. “I’m taking Luc to breakfast. Want to join us?”
Luc stiffened at my invitation. Our Saturday mornings were her escape from our mom. Luc definitely didn’t want her company. But I knew our mother better than that. If Luciana wasn’t home, Mom could take a pill, shoot up, invite a guy over, and get laid in exchange for some cash or drugs…or whatever the hell she did.
“Not hungry this morning,” she answered. “Do you have the money for Reno, baby?”
