Bro' by Joanna Blake

talking.
    I was sashaying across the bar when he grabbed my arm.  
    “What the fuck are you doing Nevada? Are you getting off on this?”
    The bouncer was over there in an instant.
    “Don’t touch the merchandise man.”
    I tossed my head and threw Clay a look. I couldn’t stop him from sitting there. But he sure as shit had better behave.
    I saw Sheila wave me over while I was filling my drink order.
    Sheila was sitting at the bar in one of her kaftans. I liked her. She was a bit vulgar, with her cheap sequined gowns and perpetually full martini glass. But she looked after us girls.
    Us girls.
    I was already becoming one of them.
    We were a fellowship of women. Armed against the world with push up bras and stilettos.
    And lipstick.
    And hairspray.
    And vaseline on your teeth. Who knew?
    “Honey it’s a slow night and we are having amateur hour. I thought you might be interested.”
    “Oh. Really?”
    She grinned at me.
    “Sooner or later everyone takes it off. Besides, you’re ready. And I know you would win.”
    She made it sound like I had earned her respect somehow. I had passed her test.
    “You don’t have to do nothin’ fancy. Just show ‘em your cute little bra and panties. Five hundred bucks is the prize.”
    I froze. Five hundred bucks was a lot of money. Besides I wouldn’t be naked. Just, slightly more naked than I currently was.
    What was a few flimsy scraps of fabric between friends?
    “I saw the way you handled that young buck. I’m impressed. You got the makings of a real career girl here.”
    I glanced over my shoulder at Clay. He was nursing a beer and glaring at me. Again.
    I turned back to Sheila and smiled.
    “Okay. I’ll do it.”
    “You have a song in mind?”
    I looked back at Clay over my shoulder.
    “Yeah. I got it.”
    “Alright honey. Well tell the DJ and get your fannie up on that stage!”
    “What, right now?”
    “You need a minute?”
    “Yeah, I do.”
    “You got five.”
    I ran backstage and told Barbara what was happening. She opened the cap and I swallowed rapidly, drinking straight from the bottle. That must be at least three more shots. Plus the two I’d had at the start of my shift.
    I was pretty much going to be shit faced in five, four, three, two-
    “Next up on the stage is our very own little cocktail waitress Nevada. Put your hands together!”
    Oh shit, they’d used my real name!
    Not that it mattered. Not really. My heart was pounding as I heard the slow sensual strains of my song one on. I walked through the backstage area to the heavy velvet curtains. I took a deep breath and stepped through them.
    Then I started dancing.
    Not like the girls did. No, I just sort of swayed and played with the straps of my uniform. Apparently that was all I had to do because the crowd went wild.
    Suddenly I was standing in a shower of singles. I looked down. There were some tens and twenties mixed in as well. Emboldened I slid a strap down over my shoulder, staring coyly into the darkness.
    You really could only see the guys sitting closest to the stage.
    And I just didn’t look at them at all.
    That made it a whole lot easier.
    I pulled the other strap down and another shower of money washed over me. Then I turned and shimmied the top of my uniform over my bra.
    There, I was practically topless. Hoots and hollers came from everywhere. It was scary but I can’t lie.
    It was quite a rush.
    Until I felt the hand yanking me off the stage. I stared up, startled. Clay was looking down at me, looking furious. For a minute, I was actually scared by that look.
    Right until the bouncer got to him.
    Crap.
    I watched as Clay was dragged forcibly out of the club.
    I ran outside trying to tell Troy not to beat the living shit out of Clay.
    I pretty much convinced him after a few choice hits.
    The weird thing was, Clay didn’t fight back. That wasn’t like him. He just stared at me, looking deeply wounded.  
    Judging from the blood trickling out of his mouth, he kind of