Page 103 of Faking the Shot

So to do this today, to have the chance to escape those things that felt impossibly hard and unreal with something that felt meaningful and good, felt like a God-given gift.

“I’m sure.”

Glenda was driving the van again, and the other ladies were the same as last time. Ainsley had opted for a slightly less casual look this time. She figured it probably didn’t hurt for Christians to not appear like they all thought makeup was of the devil.

Just like last time, they waited for admittance by the bouncer and were escorted straight to the dressing rooms. She recognized Destiny, and some of the other ladies, and asked about their Christmas and New Year’s events.

One of the women looked at her a little more closely. “You know, you look a little bit like that woman.”

Uh-oh. Ainsley ducked her head. “I think I have one of those faces.”

“The one who kissed Zac Parotti–now he’s a hottie, don’t you think?”

“He seems like a nice guy,” she said, as noncommittally as she could.

She caught Diana’s attention, and they swapped roles, and she kept her head down the rest of the visit. But just as they were leaving, one of the women called, “Ainsley.”

She glanced up, and someone took her picture. “What are you doing?”

“Itisyou. The actress.” Destiny’s eyes narrowed. “Are you here to research a movie role?”

“What? No. I’m here to help.” She glanced at Glenda, saw her frown. “I truly didn’t mean to make anyone upset.”

“We’re not upset,” Destiny said. “I think it’s kind of cool that you’d come here to research a role.”

“I’m not researching a role,” she insisted.

“You want to learn to dance?” One of the other ladies asked, her tassels swinging wildly.

Ainsley looked away. “I… I’m sorry. I should go.”

Oh, she shouldneverhave come. She stumbled from the dressing room, forgetting which way they’d come in. Left or right? The right way, obviously. She pushed open a heavy door, then discovered she was in the main area, a dimly lit space smelling of cheap beer, with men seated at a few tables as a woman gyrated against a pole, wearing a bored expression and a few sequins.

One of the men glanced her way and swore. “This one’s wearing too many clothes.”

“Are you new?” Another one asked. He looked like a manager. “Get back there, take off your clothes and put some makeup on.”

“What? No. I don’t work here,” she insisted. “I came with Glenda and the other church ladies.”

He swore. “The do-gooders, huh?” He squinted at her. “Has anyone ever told you that you look a bit like that actress on all those stupid shows?”

Stupidshows?

“You know, I don’t care who you are. You look like you have a good body, so if you ever need a gig, and some real money, then we could probably get you some work here.”

“No thanks. I’m fine.”

She turned abruptly. Then bumped into a broad chest, looked up, and nearly screamed.

Baden Daniels. In the flesh, sneering and leering at her, glancing at her chest. “Well, this is a sight for sore eyes,” he murmured. “Ainsley Beckett.”

She backed away. “Stay away from me.”

“How long has it been, Ainsley?”

“Not long enough.” She glanced around, looking for an escape.

“What are you doing in a place like this?”

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