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Starlight hands me a business card. “Here. If you change your mind, call me.” The strip club recruiter throws some bills down, leaving me standing in the middle of the restaurant watching her flaunt across the street.
“Hey, Opal,” the cook hollers. “Trudy called in sick. I need you to work her shift tonight.”
As she does every other night.
One of my teachers once said the definition of insanity is to keep doing the same thing, hoping for different results. I can’t keep running myself ragged for a handful of bucks, praying for decent tips. If I’m going to escape this cursed state, I need some hard cash.
My feet are moving before my mind catches up. “I’ll take the job,” I call in a winded voice.
Starlight spins on her heels to face me. A broad smile adorns her face. “Excellent!”
CHAPTERTHREE
OPAL
October 2019
“Don’t overthink it, Opal. Stay calm, do the routine, and before you know it, you’re done. Easy-peasy, lemon-fucking-squeezy,” Starlight reassures me with a gentle pat to my back. “Use what your mama gave you to reel in those loose wallets.”
What my mama gave me…I guess the only thing she gave me was killer curves. I’ve spent most of my twenty-one years trying to cover myself up because these curves attracted the wrong person’s attention. Every time I look at myself naked, the shame I feel makes me want to curl in on myself.
Starlight says I have a gorgeous body and to use it to my advantage. I never imagined myself dancing when I ran away from home. Me! Shy girl from Bountiful, Utah, stripping for income in Salt Lake City. I can’t deny the money is good. Enough for me to save up and get away from this cursed state—away fromhim.
Not in a million years would I have willingly returned to the Salt Lake City area, having grown up less than twenty minutes away. But going unnoticed in a big city is much easier than in the small towns that dominate Utah. Being closer to where Levi lives certainly puts my nerves on edge. Still, the opportunity to make more money is better here than anywhere else in the state.
Benny, the club boss, has begrudgingly allowed me to acclimate to the environment since I’m new to the stripping scene. But he grows impatient with my coyness. Since Starlight brought me to the club, Benny’s been salivating to get me naked and on the pole. The guy is a grade-A creep.
For the first three months, I was a drink girl, serving the customers their whiskey and beer. I thought I was going to die of humiliation when Benny showed me the lingerie I’d wear as my uniform. The pieces were practically sheer, with lace and rhinestones, and always a thong.
I’m not a fan of thongs. Why on earth would I wear underwear that sits in my butt-crack? But alas, I’m stuck wearing them while working at Slippery Slope Exotic.
Those first few months were awful, constantly being grabbed by paying customers requesting lap dances. The first time it happened, my mind went toLeviand the disgusting things he did to me.
Terrified, I broke down, crying. Benny was irate, saying I embarrassed him and made the customers uncomfortable.
Them uncomfortable? What about me?
As punishment, he kept my night’s earnings. After that, I learned to hold back my tears.
Why did I stay with the job if it was horrible? Because my first paycheck was more than what I made in two months of waitressing. Starlight told me it was nothing—the actual money came from center stage. I kept my eyes on the prize, and the prize was a one-way ticket out of Utah.
Today is D-day or S-day for stripping. I’ve made my bed; I have to lie in it—meaning I need to get my butt up on the stage, shaking it for all I’m worth.
Being my first time dancing with an audience, I feel nauseated. Starlight worked with me after hours on a solid routine. It’s a fun exercise, but even fully dressed, it embarrassed me while practicing. How the hell am I going to do this naked in a room full of rowdy men? Not to mention my sleazy boss is going to be watching. Wouldn’t put it past the scuzzbucket to tape my performance without my consent.
My body shivers. Uncomfortable is an understatement. I’m an emotional wreck.
Anxious, I turn to Starlight. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Think about the money,” she reassures. “Fuck all the assholes out there. You’re doing this so you can get the hell out of dodge.”
Starlight is the only person I’ve shared my past with, and she only knows Cliffs Notes. I confided in her when she told me she started stripping to support herself and leave her abusive ex-husband. She’s been going strong for nearly twenty years. Her long tenure is part of her draw at the club—she’s like a stripping celebrity. But even she knows she has an expiration date and plans to retire in the next five years, moving to Punta Cana to live like a queen.
“This job means freedom, Opal,” she reminds me.
She’s right. I have to do this if I want to get ahead. “Okay,” I say, trying to psych myself up. “I can do this.”
“You bet your glittery butt you can.”
