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No one pays any attention because all eyes are glued to the women dancing on the stage. The sequins on their skimpy outfits shimmer under the subdued lighting, but Celeste isn't one of them. There’s no sign of her.
I know I'm edging toward stalker territory, but the desire to watch over her is too strong to ignore. I'll stick around until she emerges from wherever she's hiding. She may not know it, but I will always look out for her. I won't let anyone hurt her and will ensure she's safe, no matter where she is.
CHAPTER 10
Celeste
Holding my things close, I head out into the freezing night.
I'm no stranger to making my own way. I'm doing everything I can to keep it together for the two guys who matter in my life, but no matter how hard I try, everything feels off. I want to get through this rough patch as fast as I can and move on.
Sinful Sirens is a dive bar located in a run-down part of town. I've never been inside a strip club. This looks like a place where people go to forget their troubles and indulge in their vices. The sharp notes of music pulse through the haze of stale air, and the stench of sweat makes my eyes water.
The big question hanging over me is how to break this to Atlas. He will be livid if he discovers I work evenings at an exotic dance club, even if it's only crunching numbers and tracking expenses in the back office. He doesn't even want me going into the woods behind my house because he’s convinced mythical creatures lurk in the shadows. But the real predators are here.
If I were to confess to Atlas, he might offer me more money out of guilt, but I don't want to rely on him like that. I value our relationship—we have a connection, and I don't want to jeopardize it. But how do I lay it all out without making him explode? It’s like trying to catch a bullet with my teeth, but somehow, I've got to figure it out.
The dancers sway and twist around the stripper pole, their supple bodies moving fluidly on the darkened stage. They ignore the crass jokes and catcalls from the jerks in the crowd shouting and flashing their cash.
How do they handle the gawking? These guys are undressing them with their eyes. The sleazy grins on their faces turn my stomach. I wish I could melt into the shadows, but I find a bit of courage watching the fierce women on the stage. They're doing their job, and I'm here to do mine.
The neon lights illuminate the bartender taking orders from patrons. A man with a smug grin waves a wad of cash around as if he's won a prize. I notice a figure at the far end of the bar hunched over a beer.
Although his face is hidden in the shadows, I recognize him immediately. I never had anything to do with the man while I was working at the circus, but I know who he is by his reputation.
His name is Chopper, and he’s friends with Freddy, the circus boss. If what people say is true, Chopper is Freddy's drug supplier. It makes sense he’s sitting in a dive bar, but I don’t want him to recognize me, so I turn away quickly before he sees my face.
I hate this place, but it’s my only chance to earn the money to buy Brody a new bike. I need to return tomorrow and the day after that, but the faster I scrape the money together and get out of this place, the better.
I can't stand around all night. I have a job to do. I pull myself together and head down the hallway toward the back office. The music becomes a garbled drone in the background, but as I walk down the dark corridor, I can't shake the feeling that someone is watching me.
The unsettling sensation makes the hair on the back of my neck prickle. I check to ensure no one is following me, yet the creepy feeling lingers. I wrap my fingers tightly around the switchblade in my pocket, ready to defend myself.
*****
I’ve been working in a stuffy office for an hour when I realize I left my refillable drink bottle at the North Star office. I make my way to the staff kitchenette, but the grimy buildup around the kitchen sink makes my skin crawl, and the glasses and mugs have fingerprints and lipstick smears all over them.
Although the club uses a cleaning service for the main bar and private rooms, I don't recall seeing cleaning listed on the expenses sheet for the staff kitchen or bathrooms. I wouldn't dare put my lips on anything in this room. Who knows where it's been?
I grab my purse, slip a few notes into my pocket, and head to the bar to grab a cold bottle of water, intending to return to work right away. The sooner I finish my shift and go home, the better.
On my way to the bar, I'm surprised to see Atlas. He looks uncomfortable as he hunches his huge shoulders and angles his body awkwardly on the barstool to make himself appear less imposing.
I creep up beside him, trying to figure out what he's doing here. Maybe he likes to watch like he did with me that night outside my window. But that doesn’t appear to be the case judging by his curious, mildly horrified expression.
My best guess? His overly protective nature led him to follow me here.
I tap his left shoulder playfully before darting to his right. His head snaps left, meeting empty space, then turns right. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees me. He shifts in his seat, sitting up straighter and wiping imaginary crumbs off it, or perhaps the sins staining his soul.
I order a drink from the bar before turning to Atlas. “What are you investigating? I don't remember seeing anything about this place in our case files.”
“I'm not working,” he snaps.
“Well, what are you doing here?”
“What's your deal, Celeste? Why are you here?” He turns my question on me accusingly.
I expected light-hearted banter, but his tone makes me defensive. “It's none of your business.” My reply comes out sharper than I intended. “But it’s glaringly obvious what you're doing here.” My eyes stray to the stage.
