Page 1 of Angels In The Dark

1

H B I C

Juliana

Beatendownisthe only way to fully express the sight before me. The woman is in rough shape. But it’s more than the tangled auburn hair framing her face or the sunken features giving her a haunted expression. You can see the story that brought her to my club, Bliss, by merely observing how she carries herself. The weight of her current reality threatens to crush her right then and there.

It’s typically this way. The exhaustion. The fear. You can see it in their eyes.

They’re never in great shape when they arrive, but it doesn’t change the visceral reaction you have when you see someone in this type of pain. Yes, the bruises and neglect aren’t pleasant to look at, but it’s more than that. It hurts to see how she turns into herself. How the instinct to cradle and protect from unseen threats quashes the trusting nature that must have existed for her once.

That’s what’s painful. The absence of trust guts me every time.

“Please sit down,” I say. Instead of rounding behind my desk to sit, I take up one of the plush chairs in front.

With time, I’ve made my office a comfortable space. When we first moved in, it was filled with Playboy centerfolds and cigarette ads. Now it’s my own little retreat inside of Bliss, with lamps bathing the room in a warm light in lieu of the harsh fluorescents or the vibrant neon colors we use out on the floor and stage. The beat-up filing cabinets are covered with an appealing navy peel-and-stick wallpaper, and dozens of framed photos of staff and patrons line the walls.

Good things are supposed to happen here: fresh starts, safety, a new family.

Despite the cosmetic upgrades, it’s clear she’s hesitant to join me, and her glances back to the doorway threaten to ruin me.

“My friend, Jay, is sitting outside, and I trust him with my life. He won’t let anything happen while we’re here,” I reassure her. “The door is unlocked. You’re free to leave at any time. But if you allow it, I want to help in any way I can.”

I wait for the shock.

Most people who come here haven’t seen genuine kindness in a very long time. It’s alarming to realize how little light is needed to change someone. But if I can be that person for them, I want to make an effort.

“I…” the woman mumbles. Her hands fidget, and her gaze bounces between her intertwined fingers and the walls filled with smiling faces.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” Patience is not my virtue, but I do my best to wait for her to speak. To keep myself from pushing her, I get up to grab a bottle of water from the mini fridge behind my desk. “Why don’t we start with your name?”

“Um… I don’t…” She takes the water and lowers herself into the chair finally.

“Would you rather use a different name? Sometimes it’s helpful. A new name for a new start kind of thing.”

It’s sad that I know a new identity can give people the relief they need. That being someone, anyone other than themselves feels safer than continuing with the memories of their former lives. This woman isn’t the first to change her name after arriving at Bliss. She won’t be the last either.

She looks relieved. “Sure, yeah.”

“How about Roxie? I love the musical Chicago, and you seem like a girl with her kind of grit.”

“I like Chicago too. Roxie Hart is one of my favorite characters, but I feel like I’m more of a Velma Kelly girl.” The woman lets out a sound almost like a giggle.

It’s the most I’ve heard her speak so far. It gives me hope. She’ll make it.

“Well, it’s your name. Who do you want to be now?”

“Um… Can I be Kelly instead? Maybe Kelly Hart?”

“Sure, honey.” I wink and make a note on the pad of paper I grab from my desk.

I add “call Buck” to my to-do list. Fuck Buck. He’s a complete asshole and overcharges, but he makes some great forgeries. Plus, he’s a halfway decent guy when his head’s out of his ass. At least he isn’t a misogynistic prick like the last guy. The guilt about breaking the law is a little harder to ignore when you’re also having to deal with a guy who calls you “babe” constantly and brags about how good he’ll give it to you.

“Now, Kelly. How about you tell me a little about yourself and how you came here to my office, if you’re comfortable with that. Then we’ll see what we can help you with.”

An hour and a half later, Kelly walks out of my office with a job at the club and a place to stay. The extra half hour means I’m running behind, but I feel better knowing she has some support. The house should be good for her since a few other girls on staff are living there. One of our security guys is off to see Buck about the new fakes for her. It’s not a lot, but it’s more than she had a couple of hours ago.

I inherited Bliss, formerly The Rowdy Cowboy, from my uncle when he died. I was only twenty-two, just out of college, and I was clueless as to why he’d left a strip club to me in the first place. But here we are, six years later, with four locations across Houston.

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