Page 49 of Ruthless Lullaby

The comments range from appreciative to lewd, the alcohol-fueled boldness of the crowd growing with each passing moment. I feel my cheeks flush, a mix of exhilaration and discomfort washing over me as I take in their reactions.

"Take those rags off!" a voice from the back of the room shouts, followed by a chorus of laughter and more whistles.

I force a smile, trying to maintain my stage presence even as the atmosphere takes on a more unsettling tone. It's not the first time I've dealt with ‘overzealous’ fans. Lucky for me, tonight, isn’t the night I’m taking anything off. And frankly, neither is any other night. The events from my previous performance were followed by a tense discussion with Kevin. I’m not doing that again, no matter how much he pays me.

Unless it’s a private night, exclusively for Maron. Maybe then, I’ll change my mind.

"Thank you, everyone!" I say into the microphone, my voice projecting over the noise. "You've been a fantastic audience tonight!"

I take a quick bow, my heart pounding with the adrenaline of the performance and the growing unease in the pit of my stomach. As I straighten up, my eyes scan the room, taking in the sea of faces - some smiling, some leering, all of them watching me with an intensity that makes me want to shrink away.

In a perfect world, Maron would be here to handle the rowdy crowd. He'd firmly tell them to shut up, and then we'd leave New York High together, heading to his place where I would perform exclusively to him, slowly ridding myself of my clothes...

Stop swooning over him, Mindy!

This isn't a perfect world. Or maybe it is. Maybe the contract in the glovebox of my car has something to say about that.

Except I haven't told Maron that I’ve signed it.

Kevin meets me backstage, cash in hand, and a grin on his face. "Great set tonight, babe," he leers, his eyes roaming over my curves. "Nice dress. You're really packing 'em in."

I smile, take the money from him, and hide it deep into my purse. "Just doing my job, Kev."

"Keep it up, girl.” He chuckles. “The guests love you more every evening."

"Thanks, Kevin." I glance at the time. "But it’s PJ time for this girl. See you next time."

I wave goodbye to Kevin and step out onto the street. The cool evening breeze caresses my skin, providing a welcome respite from the stuffy atmosphere of the bar. I pull out my phone, ready to call an Uber, but something makes me hesitate. The weather is lovely tonight, and the thought of being cooped up in a car suddenly feels unappealing. I could really use some fresh air.

I check the time again and make a spur-of-the-moment decision to go see my mom. It's only a thirty-minute walk to the hospital from here, and this is a wealthy, safe neighborhood. The streets are well-lit, and there are plenty of people outside, enjoying the pleasant evening. Just a flying visit, a quick goodnight kiss to Mom.

The thought I keep pushing aside suddenly hits me: what if I lose my mother?

No, I won't. Absolutely not. I will not lose her. That's exactly the reason I choose to perform at the club tonight, so I can make some extra cash to for pay her future treatments. That’s exactly why I signed the contract with Maron. Well, maybe for some other reasons too… Either way, Mom will get better.

Making up my mind, I slip my phone back into my purse and start walking. I make my way down the sidewalk, the soft click of my heels echoing against the pavement in the night air. The dress Maron gave me sways with each step. I can't help but feel a thrill of excitement, knowing that I'm wearing ‘a piece of him’ so close to my body.

What a ridiculous thought.

After trekking for about fifteen minutes, an odd feeling creeps in, telling me that I am not where I should be. I stop and survey my surroundings; everything seems oddly unfamiliar.

Shit.

Maybe I took a wrong turn somewhere. I quickly pull up Google Maps on my phone to check the route. Yep. I took a right turn a street earlier than I should have. It's an easy fix though, not too far out of the way.

Just as I’m about to slide my phone back into my pocket, a notification pings. It’s a text from Betty.

"Where are you? I hope you haven't been dragged to bed by one of the guests!"

I pull my mouth to a smile. My bestie always worries about me, especially since I told her about my struggles. It’s such a blessing to have a friend like her in my life. Still smiling, I type out a reply.

"Heading to pay Mom a short visit. Will be later than I thought. Go get some sleep, girl. I’ll see you in the morning."

I slide the phone back to my purse when a sleek black car catches my eye. It glides past me before coming to a stop a short distance ahead. For whatever reason, an inexplicable sense of foreboding washes over me. I try to shake off the feeling, telling myself that I'm being paranoid. It's just a car, probably waiting to pick up some wealthy businessperson or socialite from one of the upscale restaurants lining the street.

I continue walking, but I still can't seem to shake the silly, niggling sensation: it’s like someone is watching me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and my heart begins to beat a little faster. I subtly glance over my shoulder, but the street behind me is empty, except for a few late-night revelers stumbling out of a nearby bar.

“Always trust your gut, Mindy. Even when you think it makes no sense,”my mom used to tell me when I was little. Then, she would go on to explain that our mind and gut are connected, that they are in constant communication, and that the gut will always sense things the mind can’t.

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