Chapter 1

{Hailey Pov}

“All you do is shake your ass in a club like a damn whore,” Richard growls behind his beer can.

“It’s a club, not a church,” I shot back at him, swiping my lips gloss across my mouth in the cracked hallway mirror. “And trust me, the crowd prefers me to you.”

I hear him storm closer, I smell the whiskey. “You think shaking your ass makes you feel better than me.” I finally looked at him. Gut hanging over stained jeans face red from rage or alcohol, or both.

“No Richard, I know I’m better than you, all you do is drink to stupor, You rot I do think of how my momma was able to be with a low freak ass man like you, I’d rather strip until I’m seventy, than end up with men like you, eww.”

He tosses the beer can. It slams against the wall. I don’t flinch.

“You ungrateful little bitch.”

“I’m not yours to be grateful to.” I step past him and grab my purse. “You married my mom with your fists and lies and drove her to her early grave. You don’t get a thank you for that.”

“You're lucky I didn’t kick you out years ago,” Richards jeered. I never bought the idea of living with this wrecked old man.

His face twisted, “You’re nothing without me.”

I paused at the door. “Point of correction, Richard, I’m nothing because of you. But that ends tonight.”

I slammed the door shut before he could say another word.

*****

The night air was cooler and fresher than the air in that goddamn house of Richard. I walk fast. Bourbon Street was five blocks away, but the distance between who I was and who I wanted to be felt longer.

I light a cigarette, not for taste, but for ritual. Breathe in. Burn it out. My boots click against the pavement. Men stare, and some smile. I ignore them all.

Inside the bourbon club, the air shifts. Smoke, sweats, lust, it’s thick, but it’s freedom.

“Hailey!’ Kiara waves from the backstage, adjusting her thong. “Thought you weren’t coming in tonight.”

“Changed my mind, Richard ran his mouth.”

“Again?” she frowns. “That man needs to get hit by a bus.”

“Tell me something I don’t fantasize about.” I grab a dress from the curtain. “Give me five minutes.” I changed from ripped jeans to red velvet. Thing-high boots. Lip gloss that says danger.

When I step on stage, the world blurs. I’m not the girl with scars. I’m the heat! The tease! The power!

The bass drops. Lights swirl. The crowd hollers.

I move slowly. Let them want. That’s the trick they don’t get to have. They just pay to pretend.

Halfway through my set, I spot him. Black suits. Clean cut. Watching like he’s dissecting the room.

He was not the usual drunk pervert; he was studying me.

I walked backstage again, and Kiara handed me a water bottle. “You see the guy in the suit?”

“Black suits, with no smile?” Yeah

“He’s been here for weeks. Never tips. He just watches.”

“That’s creepy.”

“So creepy, like money-drenched creepy,”

I shrug. He can creep for all he wants. I’m not for sale.”

She raises a brow. “Girl, we all are. For the right price.” I don’t answer because sometimes, I’m not sure she’s wrong.

We’re shutting down with drinks and cigarettes when Joey, the bouncer, waves me over. “Hailey, someone left this for you.”

He hands me an envelope. Heavy, cream paper. My name is Calligraphy. Not a stage name. My real one. Hailey Vale.

I glance toward the crowd. The suit guy is gone.

I rip the envelope open.

Inside: a single sheet of parchment and a gold-embossed card.

Miss Hailey Vale,

You are hereby summoned to the reading of the will of George Lachlan, to be held at Lachlan Estate, New York.

Attendance is mandatory.

—Harrison & Leach, Attorneys at Law.

“What the fuvk?” I whisper.

George Lachlan? I don't know him. I never met him.

Why would I be summoned to his will Kiara?

“This letter looks fake, we got a lot of con artists here in New Orleans, so chill out.”

“Right?” I crumple the letter and toss it in the bin. We continued to chill out in the dressing room.

Later at night Kiara and I went to her home because I could not stand to see that old wrecked man called Richard.

Kiara lives in a four-storey apartment building, she lives on the third floor. We got to the door. And she was knocking in her own apartment. Kiara was high. I busted out.

“Yo! Give me your bags, let me get your keys, you are drunk." We both laughed. When the door swung open, I froze to have seen this son of a bitch called Craig.

“I can explain, Hailey.” Kiara looked at my face. I walked in and shoved him on the shoulder.

“Are we doing this now, You ended things with the mother fucker, what the hell is he doing here Kiara?”

“Watch your mouth bitch.” Craig snaps.

“What are you gonna do Hit me, I’m gonna hit your fucking balls, you used to stick in those bitches pussies you used in cheating on with.”

Kiara was in the middle of us holding my hands, from hitting Craig. Then, she pulled me to the room.

“Hailey, I’m sorry, I couldn't tell you, He came back begging, you know I still love him.”

I looked at her face, “Do you hear yourself? Is that how good his dick is that you can’t let go, mmm… tell me, Kiara, that bastard doesn't respect you. I'm out of here. Give me the keys to the truck, I will sleep there.”

She tried to stop but I took the keys from the table and walked out. I couldn't stand seeing Craig. I hate him. For all the pains he made Kiara go through.

I pulled in the truck and lowered the driver's seat and I slept off.