Been Real

Eleni

That night, I stride into Piacere half an hour before Gianna’s shift. I’ve been avoiding her all day because I think she’s the only one with a chance of talking me out of this.

Half an hour shouldn’t be long enough, though, and I made sure one of Gianna’s favorite customers was here tonight, to keep her from delaying her shift to talk to me. It’s funny coming back here, though, especially alone.

The first time I walked through these doors, I had no idea what they were going to mean to me. I had to beg my way past the bouncer instead of nodding and greeting him by name. I had to look around like a lost duckling instead of marching to the back, where I know the strippers’ dressing room is. I didn’t even know what scotch tasted like.

Now, I don’t think I’ll ever drink scotch again.

I push into the dressing room. Two of the other dancers, Sabrina and Crystal, sit at the mirrors already in costume.

“Hey guys,” I say.

“Hi, Eleni,” they chorus.

Crystal turns to face me and jiggles he