Who knows? All I know is tonight will be my last performance.

Finally, Tony shows up with my bucket full of cash. “One thousand twenty-eight.”

“Fabulous, thank you,” I say, handing him a five out the bunch and then taking out four twenties for the girls who were onstage with me. Turning, I head to my station where all my stuff sits. I put my wig on a mannequin head and then kick off my sky-high heels, loving the way the tile cools my feet. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I smile. I love this outfit; it’s my moneymaking outfit since it is the most revealing. The whole thing is black, the top a see-through lace, my nipples only being covered by a darker piece of lace. Ten strips of satin ribbon run along my stomach, connecting to satin panties that have to be held down with glue to stay in place. Let’s just say, this outfit is gorgeous and may get me paid, but man, it’s a bitch to take off.

Laying my bucket on the table, I stand in front of it and count each bill, making sure that Tony’s count was accurate. He almost always is, but I still like to check. Bundling my money up, I open the safe I keep in my station and lock it up before dropping onto the bench. Combing my hair up with my fingers, I bundle it on the top of my head before reaching for my phone to check the time. It’s a little past midnight and that surprises me because I usually have already seen Ms. Prissy by now.

Looking over at Ellen, I see that she’s on her phone, a dreamy little grin on her face. “Have you seen Prissy?”

She shakes her head without looking up from the phone. “Nope.”

“What are you doing?”

“Talking to my man.”

My brow quirks up. “Your man?”

She looks over at me, nodding her head, her curls bouncing against her face. “Oh yeah, I’ve figured it out.”

“Figured out what?”

Laying her phone down, she looks over at me like I’m beneath her. I’m not sure what the look is about, but before I can ask, she says, “That guys our age are dumb and nasty. Older is the way to go.”

I scoff. “Oh, is that right?”

“Yes, Claire, you just don’t know how amazing this man is. I am completely in love with him.”

“You are?” I ask since Ellen hasn’t been with anyone long enough to even like them.

She nods quickly. “Oh yeah, we’ve been dating for almost a month.”

My point exactly, she goes from crab boy to older guy. Not that I tell her that. “And Claire! He’s so rich and powerful!”

Bingo, ladies and gentlemen, that’s why she loves him.

“Wow, that’s wonderful,” I say, holding in my laughter.

“He’s amazing. He’s actually one of the investors. He’s from New York and only comes in on the weekends to see me.”

Hearing the investor part, I look over at her, intrigued. She may not know how big of a deal it is to be dating someone like that, so I decide to remind her. “Well, make sure to keep him happy! We need him to consider us,” I say with a wink.

But she glares, her eyes and demeanor acting as if she’s the older, wiser one of us, when that couldn’t be any further from the truth. Ellen is a dimwit. “It is more than the investor shit, Claire. This is true love!”

“Yes, it is,” I say sarcastically, but she won’t ever realize that. “I wish y’all the best.”

She smiles sweetly before turning to pick her phone back up. Looking back at the mirror, I move my hair out of my face and wash off the makeup from my previous performance. I’m doing a softer song in my next set. It’s something I’ve been working on, and I’m excited since this will be the first and last time I perform it.

It’s for Jude.

I know it’s dumb since he will never see it, but every time I hear the song, I think of him.

“There’s Ms. Prissy,” Ellen says suddenly.

Whipping my head around, I catch her going into her office. Standing up, I check the time and I have plenty of time to talk to her. Rushing to her office, I knock on the door and she looks up from her desk, her red hair falling into her face. She’s wearing a black leather bodysuit today with matching whip. She must have been on the Rock Room side.

“Hey, Claire, you okay?” she asks, a grin growing on her face.

I bite my lip because I know by the end of this conversation that grin won’t be there. “Yeah, can I talk to you?”

“Sure, baby, close the door,” she says, closing a file as I do as she asks, then I fall into the seat in front of her desk.

“What’s up?”

Moving my fingers together, I bite the inside of my cheek and take in a deep breath. She isn’t going to like this one bit, but I have to remember the reason I’m doing this.

Jude.

“I’m quitting the stage,” I say and watch as her face contorts in anger. “I still want to choreograph for you, but I mainly want to be backstage only. I can’t be onstage anymore.”

Nothing is said. Her eyes are locked on me, and I’m ready for her to start screaming. Surprising though, she doesn’t.

“Why?” she asks, her voice sharp and to the point.

Swallowing loudly, I say, “Well, for two reasons, or maybe two people. I’m not sure how my uncle will react to this, and I have a boyfriend now. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want his girlfriend onstage.”

“No one knows it’s you. We make sure of that.”

I nod. “I know, but I know and I feel like I’m lying to them.”

“Who cares? Lock that shit up. You are my best dancer, my biggest moneymaker.”

“I know, but I can’t stay here for the rest of my life, Ms. Prissy. You knew this day would come.”

“Yeah, I did,” she snaps. “But not three weeks before the investors come. I need you.”

“I will be here, backstage. I will still come and work with the girls and get them stage-ready. I’m not going to leave you hanging.”

She starts to shake her head before I even finish my sentence. “No, I need you onstage. What do you want, more money?”

I shake my head. “No, I can’t do it.”

She eyes me and then leans on her forearms, looking me straight in the eye. “Yes, you can, and here’s what I’m offering. Give me until the investors come. I won’t take a cut of your tips, no station fee, nothing.”