Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
My phone buzzes again.
Twenty-five minutes until my shift starts. Randi’s face flashes through my mind. My boss could make a drill sergeant cry with one perfectly arched eyebrow.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, already backing away.
Willow surfaces from her Maverick-induced haze. “Let me know if you change your mind about that movie.”
“I won’t.” The words come out softer than intended as I turn away to weave through the crowd, dodging familiar faces and wondering, not for the first time, what Willow would say if she knew where I was really going.
Everyone has secrets, but mine feel heavier lately.
“Taking off already?” Garret Akeman materializes in front of me, all cocky grin and practiced charm. “The night’s just getting started.”
“Yeah.” I shift my weight, uncomfortably aware of Bridger’s gaze burning into my back from the bar. “I think we both know Slap Shotz isn’t my scene.”
He glances around with disinterest. “Maybe I’ll come with you. We can chill for a while.”
I shake my head. “Sorry, not tonight.”
“Why not?” His jaw tightens as his eyes sharpen. “You have better plans?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. With my pillow,” I tack on to soften the blow. My gaze strays to the bar, only to find the tall defenseman watching us. “I’ll catch you later.”
“Yeah, sure,” Garret mumbles as I slip past him into the night air, sucking in a deep breath that tastes like freedom. Being around Bridger does this to me. It sets everything inside me spinning until I can barely breathe. Two years later and I still can’t shake him, no matter how hard I try.
My ancient Toyota grumbles to life on the third attempt, and I pat the dashboard like a faithful pet. “Just a little longer, baby. Keep it together.”
The drive to the Envy Room feels like crossing a border between worlds. Here, I’m not Holland Tate, college student just trying to scrape by. I become someone else entirely.
The club’s exterior is understated elegance. It’s nothing like the neon-soaked dives people imagine. Inside, Rocco mans the door in his usual suit and ever-present aviators, gold chains glinting around his neck.
“You’re cutting it close, Tate,” he says with a flash of a smile.
“Yet still technically on time.” I glance toward the bar where Randi sits with her laptop, looking like a CEO who took a wrong turn and ended up running a strip club. Her raised eyebrow speaks volumes.
After she took a chance and gave me this opportunity, she’s the last person I want to disappoint.
Once inside the club, the dim lighting and thumping music are familiar, almost comforting. A few of the girls wave as I head to the dressing room.
Two years ago, I could never have imagined this place and the people in it would feel like family, but that’s exactly what they’ve become. These girls are more like older sisters. They’ve given me the necessary skills to not only survive but thrive in this world.
Along with the one that lies outside these walls.
The dressing room is where I shed one identity before slipping into another. Each piece of Lavender Smoke’s costume feels like armor, from the black, lacy bustier, the barely-there bottoms, and the silky purple wig that turns me into someone else.
Someone who’s untouchable.
Heavy, smoky makeup follows. Since I’ve never been a girl to wear eyeshadow, blush, or lipstick, it took months of practice to perfect. Thankfully, Jade and Megan were patient teachers. The most fascinating part is watching Holland Tate fade with every stroke of the brush, replaced by the persona I’ve grown to love over the past year.
It’s what allows me to step out of my comfort zone and onto the stage three nights a week. Holland Tate wouldn’t be caught dead strutting around and taking off her clothes for a bunch of horny men.
Lavender Smoke, on the other hand, has zero issues with that.
For a price.
One that pays my tuition, rent, and groceries in full every single month.
“Looking good,” Megan says, adjusting her own wig beside me.
My phone buzzes with a message from ColdAsIce17, and something in my chest loosens. It’s ironic that the person who knows me best is someone I’ve never met.
ColdAsIce17
Just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.
A smile tugs at my lips as I type back.
Me
I’m good. Just hustling for a living. How about you?
ColdAsIce17
The usual. Ready to run away from it all yet?
My fingers hover over the keys. With him, I don’t have to pretend.
Me
Every day. But someone’s gotta make sure the bills get paid, right?
The banter is easy, our messages laced with sarcasm, but there’s a warmth that lies beneath the surface that keeps me coming back for more.
“Holland!” Jade’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You’re up in five.”
I shove my phone in my bag, taking one last look in the mirror. Holland Tate stares back at me for a moment before disappearing completely, replaced by someone stronger, someone who doesn’t flinch when the music starts.