6. Chapter 6

6

Wren

T he DJ switches tracks. "Pour Some Sugar On Me" blasts through the speakers. Fucking cliché, but whatever. I let the beat sink into my bones as I approach the pole.

I feel some asshole's eyes burning into me, but I don't give him the satisfaction of looking his way. Instead, I wrap my hand around the cool metal and start to move.

My body takes over, muscle memory kicking in. I swing around the pole, letting my legs stretch out. The room spins around me, a blur of dim lights and leering faces. I hook my ankle around the pole, using it to slow my spin.

As I come to a stop, I arch my back, sliding down the pole until I'm in a crouch. The sequins on my bikini catch the light, throwing sparkles across the room. I roll my hips, slow and deliberate, feeling the eyes on me but not really seeing anyone.

I hear these fuckers getting all riled up, howling like dogs in heat. But it's all the same bullshit noise to me. I know exactly why I'm here, and it ain't to stroke their egos or their dicks.

I'm using these horny bastards to get the fuck out of this life. Every crumpled bill they shove at me is another brick in the wall between me and this shithole town.

When the song hits that chorus—" Pour some sugar on me, ooh, in the name of love" —I plant my heels and slide my hands down my body, slow as molasses. Fuck it, I might as well enjoy it.

I shut my eyes, letting the beat take over. For a hot second, I can almost pretend I'm not in this sleazy-ass room, just moving for myself.

My fingers trace down my stomach, over my hips. I arch my back like a cat, rolling my body in one long, fluid motion. It's almost fucking zen if you ignore the reek of booze and desperation.

Some creep's staring so hard I can feel it on my skin, but I don't give a rat's ass. They can watch till their eyes bleed—doesn't mean they get to touch.

I keep my eyes shut tight, losing myself in the music.

Let ‘em stare. Let these fuckers drool.

I'm here for the cash, not to feed their sad little fantasies.

Every move I make is another step toward telling this whole fucking town to kiss my ass goodbye.

I suck in a breath, choking on the stink of sweat and cheap-ass cologne. The gum in my mouth's gone to shit, just a flavorless wad now.

Fuck, I'm tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushing tired.

But I keep moving. Keep grinding. ‘Cause what other choice do I have?

Every cent I make here is a step closer to freedom. To getting me and my siblings the fuck away from our alcoholic dad and his parade of strung-out girlfriends.

I picture the shithole apartment we're stuck in. The sink full of dirty dishes. The empty bottles littering the floor. Dad passed out on the couch, reeking of booze. While Em and Lenny clean up his puke.

My heart throbs like a bastard.

In my head, I'm counting. Four hundred fucking dollars in the bank after groceries yesterday. It's shit. Barely enough to keep us fed, let alone get us out of this hellhole.

Visualize it, Wren.

Ever since I was a kid, I'd imagine my life in some other fucking place. Somewhere without the stench of booze and vomit, without strange women stumbling through our living room.

A place where I didn't have to be the grown-up.

As I spin around the pole, I picture it.

A little house, maybe. Clean. Quiet. No bottles rolling under my feet. No screaming matches at 3 AM. Just me, Em, and Leo. Safe .

It's bullshit, of course.

Fairy tale crap.

But sometimes, it's the only thing that keeps me from losing my fucking mind.

I arch my back, feeling the stares on me.

Let the sick bastards look.

They don't know shit about me. They don't know about the babies I've cleaned up after, fed, changed. The ones Dad brought home and left for me to raise. Em. Lenny. My family, even if we're only half-blood.

They don't know about the mother I never met or the parade of women who came after. The ones who'd stick around for a few months, playing house until they got sick of Dad's shit and split.

I've been holding this fucking family together since I could walk. Cleaning up messes that aren't mine. Fighting battles I never asked for.

But I'm gonna win this war. I have to.

The music changes, something with a harder beat. I move with it, letting the rhythm drown out the noise in my head. For a moment, I'm not here. I'm in that little house, that safe place.

It's not real. But it could be. One day. If I keep grinding, keep hustling. Keep my eyes on the prize.

I'll get us out. Give Em and Lenny the life they deserve. The life I never had.

I picture my bank account growing. It's slow as shit, but it's growing. One day, it'll be enough. Enough to tell this life to go fuck itself, enough to give Em and Lenny a real shot. Maybe even enough for Emily to go to college without selling her soul into debt.

I smile just a little.

Fuck, but that stare is still there. Burning into me like a laser.

Fuck it.

So, I open my eyes, the sudden brightness stabbing my retinas like a bitch.

And I see him.

Surprise, surprise.