Page 3 of Downfall

“Um, yeah. I was hoping to get a lap dance?” He says it like a question, and I really hate to let this guy down—he seems like a sweet guy. Charming in an innocent way, but I’m going home to my bed in less than half an hour. There’s no way I’m sticking around to make twenty bucks, so he can ask one of the other girls.

“Sorry, cutie. I’m next up on stage. I’ll be here tomorrow night, though. Catch me then?” I ask, lightly running my fingers down his forearm.

He smiles and nods. “Guess I need to get over to the stage for a front-row seat.” He gives me a quick once-over, then turns to leave before I have to reply, and I’m grateful, because I need to hustle over to the stage, too.

Climbing the steps to the main stage, my heart flutters and adrenaline seeps into my blood. Laura is a tough act to follow, and she kisses my cheek and murmurs, “Knock ’em dead,” as she passes me. That little peck makes the crowd around the stage go wild and we roll our eyes, grinning at each other.

When I reach the stage, “Daisy” by Ashnikko starts playing over the speakers, and I do a quick spin on the pole. I catch backward hat guy’s eye where he sits in the front row and wink at him before launching into my routine.

Three minutes later, I’m wearing nothing but a thong and heels as I saunter to the edge of the stage to redress and dash to the next stage to continue my set. Each dancer does a round of the three stages, about ten minutes of dancing, each hour. The next song that plays is “Little Girl Gone” by Chinchilla, and I giggle to myself at the girl power energy in this amazing playlist.

After my set, feeling invigorated and a couple hundred dollars richer, I make my way toward the dressing room. Passing one of the side stages, I notice Hazel on the lap of the same guy she’s been clinging to all night. I haven’t seen her take him back for a dance, and I’m almost certain they’ve been out here all night, wrapped around each other whenever she wasn’t on stage. The boss isn’t going to like that at all.

Nico is a nice enough guy. He isn’t a perv like a lot of club owners are, and he treats all the dancers fairly. But he expects us to show up, work hard, and do our damn job. It just so happens that our job is to make a lot of different men feel special, not just one.

The guy Hazel is snuggled up to is good-looking, but doesn’t seem like her usual type. She usually goes for men in expensive suits, the ones you just know are douchebags from a mile off. This guy seems almost… normal, his bright blue eyes shining across the club. But neither of them are any of my business. Even though the petty part of my brain is hoping she’ll get in trouble.

I’m sure I have a bit of an evil grin on my face when I walk through the dressing room door, and I head straight to my bag to change back into my leggings and cropped tee. Scanning the counter and floor, I toss all of my makeup and tonight’s costumes in my bag to be washed at home.

I quickly remove my intense makeup before leaving, not wanting to look like a hooker on the downtown streets in the middle of the night, and head out the back door.

As I get to the sidewalk and start the short walk to my building, my phone chimes with a text. Digging through my tote, I pull it out and scan the message from my best friend.

Viv owns a New American-style restaurant and bar a few blocks from the Fox Hole, and she is still working on perfecting her menus. I have brunch there most Sundays, and I help her out as much as I can. We always have each other’s backs, and I’m grateful to have her and her brother, Max, too. They’re basically my only family, anymore.

It’s been a few hours since I walked to the club, but that same guy, with his fucking green eyes and lean, muscled body, is leaning against the bricks outside the alley I saw him in earlier. He’s standing under a light attached to the brick like it’s a damn spotlight, showcasing how his plain black t-shirt stretches over his toned biceps. The Converse on his feet peek out from under the frayed edges of his dark jeans, and I look down at my own shoes, the platformed version of his.

Usually by the time I head home, he’s gone, so I’m surprised to see him this late. I consider crossing the street, or turning to walk down the next block, to avoid him. But the way he’s looking at me has the twirling in my stomach going a mile a minute. I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the need to talk to him, to just be near him, which is insane.

I don’t fucking do butterflies.

If there is one thing I’ve learned in my twenty-two years, it’s that no one sticks around. The people who claim to love you, who say they’ll be there for you, they’re all talk.

So, this guy, well, he may not be my Prince Charming and sweep me off my feet to a happily ever after, but he does look like fun. And trouble.

Pretending not to notice him standing directly in my path, I continue on, strolling along as though I don’t have a care in the world. But he doesn’t let that deter him.

To my surprise, he doesn’t stop me. Instead, making sure he positions himself on the street-side of the sidewalk, he falls into step next to me, walking with me like this is totally normal and we do it every night. His eyes haven’t stopped roaming my body, and though I’m very used to men’s eyes on me by now, his scrutiny feels different. Intoxicating.

He stays silent, just walking along next to me without a care, until I can’t take it anymore.

“Are you at least going to tell me your name? Or was your plan to just follow me all the way to my destination?”

Chapter 4

Kolson

She’steasingme,purposelynot telling me where she’s headed. It’s a smart move; she doesn’t know me. But I do plan to follow her. Learn her name and her address. It would be ideal if she gave me her information herself, but I’ll find it either way.

“It’s Kolson. I have no plan, just had to talk to you. And your name?” It’s true. I needed to hear her voice, to look into her dark eyes up close. She’s gorgeous, and after months of watching her, I couldn’t let her pass me by again. I should have changed my location weeks ago—it’s dumb to keep the same meeting place for too long—but seeing her again was worth the risk.

“I’m Abby,” she tells me, eyeing me up and down. She doesn’t appear nervous, more like intrigued by my presence next to her. I’d back off for tonight if she wasn’t as into this as I am. I’d come back, of course, but luckily she seems fine with me walking with her. “So, Kolson, why have you been hanging out in an alley all night?”

“How do you know I’ve been there the whole night?” I ask, a smirk on my face.

“Either that or you came back, which may just be more concerning.”

I chuckle. “Maybe I was hoping you would walk by again.”

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