Chapter 1

Chapter One

" S lut."

"Homewrecker."

"How dare she even show her face?"

Why was it that close-minded assholes always felt the need to share their disapproval?

Smiling, I kept walking, pretending that I didn't hear the cruel words. I knew that continuing down the sidewalk was going to be a test for me—after all, these bitches were horrible to me in high school and had only gotten meaner with age. But damned if I was going to give these stuck-up cunts the satisfaction of seeing me cross the road in retreat.

Sandy, the blonde bimbo of the group, fanned herself. "Why don't you scurry back home and wash off the smell of white trash?"

"Yeah," Laurie, the brunette added, "and why don't you find some decent clothing to wear while you're at it? You should be ashamed to wear that trampy skirt in public."

I sighed but remained otherwise quiet. I could bite back and remind blonde Barbie that her rich husband loved slumming it in my neighbourhood, but why bother? They weren't worth the effort.

And my clothes were fine. It was fucking hot out, so why would I be wearing a pant suit even if I'd owned one? I knew jealousy was the reason these women treated me like shit. They knew their husbands loved coming to the club, Tasty Twister, where I stripped, and I'm sure even these morons were smart enough to figure out that their asshole husbands paid me generously for my time on the pole. If they weren't such gold diggers, they'd probably divorce said husbands if they knew how much extra they paid for my private dances and how often these men begged me to fuck them. Worse, their husbands tended to share way too many intimate details, and I'd heard all about these women's shortcomings in the sack.

But I was tired. Tired of the hurtful comments, and just plain tired from working three jobs as I tried to dig myself out of debt. These bitches, with their rich preppy lifestyles, did not appreciate how good they had it. The most they had to worry about was their nannies getting sick and having to actually look after their own kids.

"I heard that she's moved on from Brad Severs," Laurie said in her loud nasally voice.

At the mention of Brad's name, my muscles tightened up. He was largely responsible for the fact that I had to work at so many awful jobs. We had been living together for two years when he screwed me over, taking out numerous credit cards in my name and using them until they were cut off. God only knows what he'd done with the money I'd given him to pay my property taxes. And he'd had the nerve to fuck around on me. When I'd kicked his ass out and found how badly he'd fucked me over, I'd been livid. But there wasn't anything I could do about it.

Sandy popped out a hip. "I heard she was fucking Jared Reimer and Wade Marlow at the same time. Carey caught them doing it behind that nasty restaurant she works at."

I'd almost forgotten about the cunts while mentally rehashing the shit how my life was. When I attempted to walk around them, Laurie stepped in my way. "Is that true, slut? You're fucking so many men you have to double up in order to keep up with them all?"

The last shred of my patience snapped. "Maybe I am. And if you're not careful, maybe I'll add your husband to my list since he's been asking for so long."

Sandy gasped, her face scrunching up in anger. "Why, you dirty little bitch. Maybe we should teach you some fucking manners, since your whore-of-a-mother obviously didn't bother."

How dare they bring up my mother? I knew the woman wasn't a saint. I was the one that lived through her string of often abusive boyfriends and had to clean up the vomit when she'd drunk herself stupid more often than not. But the woman was dead for Christ's sake. Let her rest in peace.

"Get the fuck out of my way," I growled.

The shove from behind caught me off guard. I stumbled forward, my bare knees hitting the hard sidewalk. Sandy, never one to fight fair, slapped at me while I was down. A kick to the side had me groaning out in pain, but this was nothing compared to some beatings I'd taken.

I surged up to my feet and punched Sandy across the cheek before whipping around to glare at the other two useless twats. "Just try it," I yelled to be heard over Sandy's sobbing.

The two women were chicken-shits and quickly backed away. I stepped around Sandy, ignored my pain, and continued on my way. Shit. Now I had a mess to clean up when I got to work.

"You've done it now, you psycho. You're going to jail when I tell my husband about this!" Sandy's shrill voice followed me. But I didn't have time to worry about it.

If I didn't get to work soon, my boss Leroy would chew my ass out. It's not like he'd fire me. My customers loved me, and he knew they'd quit coming if I wasn't there, but he could make my shift a nightmare of epic proportions. Last time I showed up a couple of minutes late, he'd made me stay after we'd closed and de-grease the entire kitchen on my own, even though I'm a server, not a cook.

I considered turning around and going home as I really didn't want to spend the next five hours slaving in Leroy's shithole diner, but I didn't have a choice. I needed the money to pay my property taxes, or I'd lose the one thing of value I still had. My house trailer might not be a grand mansion, but it was mine, and I intended to keep it.

My skinned knees were bloody, and my ribs were sore from the pointy high heels of whichever bitch had kicked me by the time I made it to the diner. My plan was to sneak in the back door so I could clean up before Leroy spotted me.

The door had barely closed behind me when Leroy was in front of me. His stained white t-shirt barely covered his enormous belly, and I had to force myself not to gag when his putrid breath hit my sweaty face. "You're late, Loralei. I'm docking you for an hour. Now get out there before I fire your useless ass."

So much for cleaning up.

Walking out the door twenty minutes behind schedule was not a great start to my evening. Leroy had been on my case my entire shift. His bitchy attitude was nothing new but after my brush with the barbie bitches, I was not in the mood for his bullshit.

Taking a deep breath of fresh air while looking down the sidewalk, I decided to splurge and take a taxi to the Tasty Twister. As it was, I'd barely have time to get there and get dressed for my first set. When I caught sight of a bright red cab, I rolled my eyes. Of fucking course, cause my day couldn't get any worse.

Reluctantly getting in the back seat, I prepared myself for a lecture.

"Hello, Lorelei. I haven't seen you in church for a while," Sue said over her shoulder. "I know you have a lot of repenting to do, so I keep saving you a spot."

Sue was our town's version of Billy Graham. Her mission in life was to save as many of us sinners as she could before it was her turn to join her Lord and Saviour. She'd been trying to save my immortal soul for as long as I could remember.

"Hi, Sue. I need to get to Tasty's as soon as possible. Could we hurry this along?" I sighed heavily, leaning my head against the seat. "Please."

"There's always time to do the Lord's work, child. And how many times do I have to remind you that God will provide if you'd just turn from your sinful ways? God will take care of you if you'd just look for good, honest work."

"Sue," I growled out. "I'm sorry that my job isn't up to snuff with the big guy, but I don't have time for a sermon. Please, please just drive the car."

"Hmph." Sue thankfully put the car in drive and headed toward the club. "If you would just join us next Sunday–"

"I work Sunday mornings, Sue," I reminded her for the thousandth time. "Just like every other morning."

"Blasphemy. Someone should shut down that rattrap motel. Why, I heard they had ladies of the night renting rooms by the hour." As she spoke, Sue's voice rose several octaves, her outrage clear.

"They pay me on time. That's all I care about." When the car came to a stop at the front of the club, I handed over more than enough to cover the fare. "Thanks, Sue. I gotta run." Not waiting for a reply, I jumped out of the car.

After slamming the door, I ran down the alley and threw open the side door. A quick jog down the stairs and I'd made it to our crappy dressing room. Elisha, the server that I enjoyed visiting with on breaks, was fixing her makeup in a mirror.

"Hey, there you are. I thought for sure I'd have to cover for you with the boss man," Elisha said.

"Leroy was in a mood," I explained, while rummaging through my bag for my first costume. Everything I wore at the club was black and gave off dominatrix vibes.

"Oh shit, girl. Look at your knees. What the hell happened?" She pointed to the scabs. At least I'd had time to wipe the blood off in between orders at Leroy's.

"I'll tell you about it later." I stripped off my street clothes and yanked on my G-string followed by a tiny skirt. It could have passed for a belt. "I'll wear my tall boots all night."

"Good idea. I gotta go. Hurry it up, or boss man will be up your ass," she said over her shoulder.

After throwing on a bikini top, I sat down in front of the mirror and applied my makeup. Dark, smoky eyes, bright red lipstick, some blush. I released my hair from its bun and shook it out before spraying the crap out of it with sea salt spray and fluffing it up. Last, I pulled on the black vinyl thigh-high boots that I hated, but men loved. It would have to fucking do.

I hated this fucking place, but what other job was I supposed to get that would pay enough to cover all the debt, first from my mom, then what Brad had saddled me with? I plastered a fake smile on my face and headed up the stairs.