Chapter Two: The Mysterious Helper

When I arrived at the bar, I was greeted with Sharon's harsh commands and glares. "Fucking hell mate!" She screamed, her british accent thick. "You're late! Now go get dressed and wow those customers, they are getting feisty and I'm losing money!"

"Of course madam Sharon." I said and rushed to the dressing room. Upon reaching there, I met other dancers, I lowered my head and slowly walked towards the hanger, ignoring their gazes and whispers.

'She came back, what for?' one snorted.

'Ugh,' another voice groaned in disgust. 'I wonder why she dared to show her face again after that stupid stunt she pulled,'

'Yeah,' a third voice joined. 'After making us lose so much she dared to come back here?' Just then, I heard footsteps approaching. I looked up to see Anita, walking towards me with a scowl on her face. "Hey, dickhead!" She yelled.

I said nothing and averted her gaze, channeling my attention back to the costume in my hand. My anger flared when it was snatched from my hand and tossed into the floor. Before I could speak, Anita stepped on it, using it to scrub the floor.

"What the fuck?!" I spat, glaring at her.

She smirked and crossed her arms over her chest. "You sure have the nerves to show up after what you had done. Why?" She inched closer. "Gone broke again?"

I was about to retort when the door burst open, Sharon walked in with a disapproving look on her face.

"Let's go ladies!" She yelled, clapping her hands. "Anita, Betty, Princess, let's go!" She said, Anita glared at me once last time before waltzing out the door with her minions following her.

"Keira?" I looked up to see Sharon staring at me with a stern look. "Don't fuck up tonight. Do it right."

"Yes Madam Sharon."

She nodded and closed the door, the click echoing in the now silent room. I let out a shaky breath as I bent down and picked up my costume. I couldn't wear it anymore. I scrambled through some other costumes, before settling on a black costume. It was a smooth, shiny fabric. The bra was barely there, with tiny straps and sparkles, and the matching thong is revealing. I cringed as I stared at the outfit, but I knew I had no other choice.

Sucking in a shaky breath, I changed into the costume. I dared not stare at myself in the mirror. I couldn't bear to see the woman that stared back at me.

I hated it with all my being.

But it was the only job that could afford to pay the bills...fast.

I left the changing room, headed out to the stage. Upon reaching the stage, I felt the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes on me. My head swam, and I bit my lip to keep from bolting. The familiar wave of shame washed over me, hot and suffocating.

I was a mother...not a stripper. And every time I walked out here, I felt like I was betraying everything I believed in.

My kids deserved a better life. A better mother. A better father. A loving home. They deserved that, but unfortunately I couldn't give it to them no matter how hard I tried. I failed...not just to them but also myself.

Then, the music started, a heavy bass line that vibrated through the floor and up my spine.

"Well? Start dancing already!" A voice snarled from the crowd, the words laced with impatience and contempt.

Rage, hot and defiant, flared in my chest. I reached out for the pole, gripping it tightly with both hands.

As the rhythm surged through me, something shifted. The shame receded, replaced by a strange kind of power- or determination, rather. I moved with a raw, primal grace, my body flowing as I spun, slid, arching my back, using every muscle to create a performance that was both sensual and defiant.

The cheers began slowly, hesitant at first, then grew louder. Money rained down the stage, a tangible measure of their desire, their awe.

The music intensified, and so did my movements. I poured every ounce of anger, frustration and desperation into the dance, letting it consume me, transform me.

When the song ended, I left the stage without a word, without a glance at the crowd. The applause followed me as I retreated to the changing room, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I barely had time to change out of the costume before the door burst in. I had half expected Sharon, but whom I didn't expect was Andres.

He looked drunk, disoriented and wasted. His eyes were barely open as he stumbled towards me. "M-my loveeee!" He grinned, leaning against the wall.

"What are you doing here?!" I asked through gritted teeth. "How the fuck did you get lass security?!"

He grinned, his stupid smile growing wider, he lifted his finger up. "Shhh...so loud," he murmured. "I- bribed them of course!"

"Get out!" I snarled, gesturing towards the door.

"No!" He shook his head, he attempted to walk towards me but failed and stumbled again. "I- I've been calling, and callinggg. Yet you didn't respond to me. Baby why?"

I flinched when he reached out to touch me, making his anger grow. "Come on!" He groaned. "I miss you,"

"I don't," I spat. "Just leave."

"Why are you being such a prick?!" He snarled, his eyes now open, the anger evident in them. "For fucks sake you're jealous because I fucked Anita?! Hell, you all are strippers! You guys have a price and I can afford it!"

His words stung. Hitting my very being, I felt tears prickle at the corner of my eyes but I refused to let him see it. I couldn't believe this was the same man that showered me with kisses. How cruel could men be? He hiccupped and stretched his arms forward.

"Okay baby..I'm sorry...just forgive me, okay?"

"No," I sniffed, inching back from him. "You're an asshole Andres, leave."

His face fell, then his lips curled into a frown. Before I could process what was going on, my back collided with the wall. What just happened? My head suddenly felt dizzy, I felt arms grab my throat, my eyes shot wide open to see Andres hovering above me, his jaw clenched, spit drooling from the corners of his lips as he gritted his teeth.

"Fucking bitch!" He spat. "How dare a lowly stripper like you talk down on me? Do you fucking know whom I am?!"

"A-andres!" I choked, tugging at his arm as his grip around my throat tighten. "Please!"

He kept on squeezing even tighter, my vision began to fade slowly, my limbs suddenly weak. Just as I thought I was about to give up, his weight was suddenly moved off me. I gasped, holding my throat. Just then, a gunshot filled the room. I flinched, inching back further into the wall. Andres who was just strangling me was laying on the floor, blood surrounding him, beside him, two polished shoes stood. My eyes trailed up, scanning the figure that had just saved me. My heart dropped as the familiarity crossed.

No.

No.

NO!

His lips curled into a smirk when our eyes met. "It's good to see you again, Selene." His deep voice said, resonating.

My breath hitched at the mention of my real name.

My worse nightmare was standing in front of me again after six years.

Lorenzo.

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