MIRABELLA I stopped believing in happy endings a long time ago. First, it was my dad, that’s if you could even call him that. He left before I was even born, disappeared without so much as a name on a birth certificate. Then my mom died on my thirteenth birthday, cancer taking her so fast I barely had time to say goodbye. Since then, it’s just been me. Me and whatever version of survival I could claw out of this world. Tonight’s no different. I check my watch. It’s silver, worn, the only thing my father ever left behind. I hate that I wear it, but it’s the nicest thing I own. The time glares back at me: 9:04 p.m. I was supposed to be here an hour ago. Although Midnight Muse is a shithole, it’s still nicer than the other clubs I’ve worked in, and tonight’s my debut here. When I got the offer a week ago, I’d hesitated. That’s before the eviction notice came. I needed money, and fast. Stripping may not be glamorous, but it pays. And right now, survival beats
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