Page 4 of Unbreakable

“No, I have the last of my bags in my hands. Thank you boys, I didn’t know they grew them all chivalrous like you anymore.” I tell them, my voice becoming a little more husky.

“Well, thank you kindly ma’am.” Christopher says with a country twang, performing a bow when he says it and I’m fucking dead. I break down laughing, having to wrap my arms around my stomach and hold my sides, it hurts so bad.

Finally, I’m able to regain my control. “I’m so sorry. I just haven't laughed that hard in a while. You made my night. Hopefully we’ll see more of each other. Thanks again for the help with the bags.” I tell them.

“You’re welcome. If you need anything just let me know. I just live right across the hall in case you forgot. Plus, I’m always available for tours of the city, so you know all the places to go and where to avoid.” Knox says with a grin. I already have an amazing feeling that we are going to get along great.

“I’ll remember that. See you around, neighbor.” I tell him as they turn and head out the door. I drop in line behind them, but once we’re out the door they head to Knox’s apartment and I head down the stairs to grab the bag of takeout and my purse before heading back up to the apartment.

Three hours later I’ve unpacked everything, somewhat making the apartment seem like mine, but knowing it’s only a temporary home before I return to the life that will become my prison.

Dana had left the internet and cable on, providing me with the information to pay it. Grabbing a bag of chips and a soda, still hungry even after eating earlier, I head to the couch and curl up under a blanket and start flipping through the channels. Finally landing on a reality show where one woman dates multiple men, then at a rose ceremony she decides which ones she wants to keep and sends the others home. Lucky bitch.

As I sit and watch, I feel the weight of my eyes and I try to fight to keep them open. Sleep finally wins the battle as I turn the television off and sink deeper into the couch under the warmth of the blanket, forgoing any movement to make my way to the bedroom.

I slept like a freaking baby. I’m totally asking where she got her couch because I plan on getting one in the next home I have, whether the bastard I have to marry likes it or not.

Finally, pushing up into a sitting position, I pick my phone up from where it must have slipped to the floor during the night. I look at the screen, finding I have three missed text messages and a voicemail.

Opening them up, I see three are from Ro, wanting to make sure I arrived alright. I quickly shoot a message back to her to let her know I did and that I will call her later tonight.

The voicemail is from my father. Being so thoughtful to remind me that the countdown has started. Like I could fucking forget how he bartered my life to pay for his debts.

Fucking bastard can’t even let me have my year without finding a way to intrude on it and bring my mood down.

When I drove into town I saw a few strip clubs and figured I’d pop into them today and see if they were hiring. But before any of that I need to wash my stank ass, I was so exhausted last night I didn’t take a shower before falling asleep.

Within the hour, I’m washed, dressed, and headed out the door to hopefully come home with secured employment.

I pull through the drive-thru of the local coffee shop to get my shot of caffeine and energy for the morning along with a pastry, because who doesn’t love sweets?

Once I have my needed caffeine I pull out and head to the first club that caught my interest, Centerfolds. With a name like that, how bad could it be?

It takes me about twenty minutes from where I am before I’m pulling into their parking lot. I had made a call on my way over and the manager said he had time to talk to me, they were actually looking to hire a couple dancers.

After turning the engine off, I place both hands on the steering wheel and take a deep breath. I can do this, it’s just like States, except I’m taking off my clothes.

I open the driver's door and slowly step out, pulling my gym bag out with me. I had brought some clothes to change into just in case they needed to see me dance before offering me a job. When I spoke to the owner on the phone he told me to come in the door to the right and someone would be stationed there. I was to inform them I was here for an interview with Jones.

I walk to the door, careful of some broken glass on the ground. Opening the door, I immediately see strobing lights and smoke, a mixture of cigarettes and what you would see coming out of a smoke machine. Looking around I see a short, overweight man, most likely in his late forties with a receding hairline, standing behind a counter. Walking up to him, I introduce myself and tell him I am here to see Jones. He gives me a long stare, mainly focusing on my tits before directing me to the man behind the bar.

I make my way over, soaking in everything. The room is dimly lit with tables scattered throughout the room. From what I can see there are three small stages with a main stage that comes out into the center of the floor. Around the stages are barstool chairs with backs.

The waitresses I see wear tiny g-strings and pasties on their nipples. I’m so caught up in looking around I don’t realize I’m still walking forward until I run right into the bar. Real fucking smooth Arizona, there’s no way in hell he’s going to hire you to dance and do tricks on a pole if you can’t even walk without running into something,

“Hope you dance better than you walk. You have a good body but I can’t afford a dancer who falls off the stage.” I hear come from a deep, rough voice that has the harsh sound of someone who has smoked for years.

Turning to look at the owner of the voice, I see an average height man with a bald head and tattoos covering his exposed arms and neck. He looks like the type of guy you would see as a highlight in eighties porn.

“Sorry, I just got distracted. I’m more graceful than what you just witnessed. Do you want an audition?”

“You’re a looker, what do your fucking tits look like? Let me see them. Strip to your panties.” he orders, not once taking his eyes off me and not a hint of this being a joke. He must sense my hesitation because he speaks up again.

“Look girlie, I ain’t got time for games. This is a fucking strip club, if you can’t take your clothes off here, there’s no way you can on stage when this place is packed. Don’t waste my time.”

“No, I can do it. That’s not the issue. I don’t have any panties on.” I confess.

He gets a lascivious grin on his face as he reaches up and runs his finger along the edge of his chin.

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