Page 35 of Strip Search

“Why does she favor Lisa?”

“My therapist thinks she’s living vicariously through my sister. Mom’s always been in love with the theater, but she didn’thave the talent. Lisa was a prodigy and I was merely good. We didn’t have a lot of money, so it made sense to her to promote Lisa.”

“While you got left holding the bag?”

“Lisa’s bags, yes. And later her calendar and her bookings.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Well, at first I had no choice. But after I moved out, I guess it was just habit. And the job pays well. It was numbingly boring and gut wrenching to make her dreams come true. I compartmentalized a lot of it.”

“You locked yourself away from your life?”

I wrinkled my nose. “You make it sound so dramatic, but yeah, in a way. I guess that’s why it feels so good to be so trashy in Las Vegas.”

“You’re one of the best dancers I’ve ever seen.”

Blinking back tears, I clutched his arm tighter. “I needed to hear that.”

“You know, maybe you should see if there are any shows hiring.”

“You think Lisa’s auditioning to be a showgirl?”

He snorted. “If she is, she won’t last past her first audition. She couldn’t do four sets of three minutes every hour without having to ice her knee.”

“Then what would I find out at a cattle call?”

“You could find out that your mother doesn’t know shit about talent and that you could become a Las Vegas showgirl.”

I giggled nervously. He had to be joking. I looked up at his face. He was completely serious. “But I can’t get time off from my job in New York to work as a showgirl.”

“So don’t take the job.”

Don’t take the job? Was he nuts? I had wanted to be a Rockette from the very first Christmas I saw them dance at Rockefeller Center. A Vegas showgirl complete with featheredharness and the glittery body suits was the epitome of professional dancer to me.

“How much do they make?”

“About 40K a year, I think.”

I couldn’t live on that in Manhattan, but maybe I could in Las Vegas. Wait, what was I even thinking? I had a life in New York, a great career, and my family was there. My phone buzzed and I dug it out to look at it. Winter storm warning was in effect in Manhattan for the next forty-eight hours. Letting go of Miles, I rolled my window down and let the hot desert air buffet my face.

A Las Vegas showgirl.

Me.

“Do you think I can do it?”

“Yes.”

“How? We’ve only known each other a few days.”

“I’ve seen you dance. You’re gorgeous. You have great legs.” Miles ticked off the list on his fingers. “You’re not afraid of anything.”

I gave a short laugh. I was afraid of everything.

“You’re a free spirit.”

“Me?”

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