Page 57 of Off the Rails

“Hurry up,” Nash murmured. “We don’t want you to be late.”

My steps slowed. “Just stay in the car, you don’t need to⁠—”

“And miss out on the most exciting thing that’s happened all day?” Blade laughed, looping a sinewy arm over my shoulders. “Fat fucking chance.”

“Blade gets too restless in the car,” Nash added. “She’ll start chewing the leather seats.”

I wanted to fight back, but truthfully, there was no time. Lingering around the parking lot was a bad idea — people were already starting to look at us. And I needed to get in there yesterday if I wanted to make any tips tonight.

“...Fine,” I grumbled, speeding toward the side door. “But you’re not coming backstage. Main door’s there. Tell Marcus you’re with me. And don’t make this a thing.”

“Definitely making this a thing,” Blade grinned.

But Nash just nodded, leading Blade off by the scruff. “See you soon, Sweet Lamb.”

I could still feel their watchful eyes on me as I slipped over to the side door — they weren’t going to let me out of their sight any longer than was absolutely necessary.

A part of me was relieved to have my secret out in the open, to be able to return to this small slice of normalcy. The club was more of a steady presence in my life than any of the places I’d lived these past few years.

Usually, the familiar back halls and pulsing music made me feel at home. But tonight, my nerves were a livewire, fraught by Velvet Paradise’s two newest patrons.

33

TESS

The metal door slammed shut behind me, my eyes adjusting to the darker hallway as I walked toward the dressing room.

Crystal, another dancer whose shift was just ending, walked toward me and waved. “Hey, girl. Nice to see you!”

“You too.” I smiled back before turning into the dressing room.

It was odd to be back here. So much had happened to me in the two weeks since my last shift. And I knew that somewhere out there, my two masked freaks would be taking their seats and getting ready to watch me work.

Backstage was crowded. Between the shift change and the busy time of night, we were well staffed.

From their vanities, the other girls gasped before sarcastic applause broke out. Sapphire shook her head. “The prodigal stripper lives!”

After I marked my name down on the white board, I scoffed as I threw my bag down into my usual chair. “Very funny, ladies.”

Everyone went back to prepping for their numbers, each of them dropping by my station as they moved around the dressing room. If my math was right, Cherry was on stage right now and I’d be going on three numbers later.

I had about fifteen minutes to prepare before my first song.

But it was the thud of a large duffel bag dropping onto the lycra counter that drew my eyes up.

Crossing her arms, Lola — better known as Cherry — stared down at me. “Nice of you to show up, Tess. Fucking Casper-ass, ghosting me while I had your shit.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Biting the inside of my cheek, I tried to figure out how to explain to her what I’d been through the last week.

“I’m just glad you’re alive, you bitch.” Lola threw herself down in the plush leather makeup chair next to mine. “A text would’ve been nice.”

Nodding, I unzipped the duffel bag and pulled out one of my work outfits. “My phone broke. Had to get a new gig to pay for a new one.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. I was going to work Fright Nights until I could get my twenty grand. The way I studied that place, it felt like I’d enrolled at Atwood to get a degree in escaping murderous, masked clowns.

Digging around the bag, I looked for something that wouldn’t be the most scandalous costume I could wear. Sure, I’d let Blade fuck me and Nash had used me for her weird art project. But this was my job, and I didn’t know how they’d behave after seeing me work.

It wouldn’t be the first time some dirtbag thought they could touch me however they pleased after my dance.