Jerking her attention back to Diamond, she widened her eyes. “You’re a stripper?”
“At Dream House. You’d be real popular—the guys like bigger boobs, and your black hair and blue eyes are unusual, you know?” Diamond pointed to the maraschino cherry Ashley had discarded on the napkin. “You eating that?” She shook her headno,and the dancer picked it up and popped it in her mouth. “The tips are real good at the club, and the men are decent most of the time,” she said while chewing.
“I already have a job.”
Diamond’s eyes flicked over Ashley’s shoulder toward the back of the room. “I gotta go—some friends of mine came in.” The dancer grabbed her beer and headed off as Ashley watched her disappear into the crowd.
For the next hour, Ashley nursed another drink while she watched the opening band howl and gyrate on stage. She rifled through her small purse for the umpteenth time as if that would make a pair of earplugs appear. When she and her friends went to music bars, Ashley usually made sure that she had a pair of plugs with her. Cursing softly, she snapped her handbag closed and scooted off the stool.
“Can you keep an eye on my jacket? I’m going to the restroom,” she said to Whitney.
“Sure, and you can put these”—she handed a wad of napkins to Ashley—“on top of it.”
“Thanks.” Ashley placed the stack of napkins on top of the leather jacket, then threaded her way through the crowd.
When she finished up in the stall, she opened the door and saw Diamond teasing her hair in the mirror. Her eyes shifted to Ashley’s in the reflection.
“Hey,” Diamond said as she put down the comb. “Are you having fun?”
Ashley stepped to the sink and turned on the faucet. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t happen to have an extra pair of earplugs?”
Diamond laughed while shaking her hair. “I never wear them. I guess I’m used to loud music.” Opening her purse, the exotic dancer pulled out a small can of hairspray.
And you’ll probably need a hearing aid before you turn fifty.Ashley rinsed her hands, then reached for a paper towel.
“There’re a lot of good-looking guys here tonight. I got the hots for someone real bad, but his club owns the bar I work at, and they got a ‘no-fucking-the-employees’ policy.”
“Sounds like something that’ll keep them from being sued.”
“I guess, but it sucks. I’ve been crushing on him for a long time. Oh … one of my friends
already hooked up with a real cutie tonight.” Diamond shook the can and took off the lid.
“That’s nice.” Ashley freshened up her berry-colored lipstick.
“Maybe you’ll meet a hunk before the night’s over.” Diamond waved her arm around her head.
The smell of the aerosol fumes filled Ashley’s nostrils as she blotted her lips. Catching Diamond’s eye in the mirror, she said, “I’m not looking for anyone. I better get back—I don’t want to lose my seat.” Dropping her lipstick into her clutch, she headed out of the ladies’ room. The last thing she wanted to do was spend the next fifteen minutes chitchatting with the dancer.
Ashley settled back onto the barstool and glanced at her phone. Two of her best friends had sent a picture of them partying in one of Ashley’s favorite bars in downtown Denver. Suddenly, loneliness assaulted her, and she wished like hell that Danielle and Nicole were at the bar with her—drinking a bit too much and whispering about some of the characters in the venue.She sent back a smiling face and a “Wish I was there!” text.Once I start work on Monday, I’ll be too busy to care about socializing.Although, there were two things that she wanted to do right away: sign up for a yoga class and volunteer at a homeless shelter. Yoga was what kept her sane and grounded, and giving back to others was her way of expressing gratitude that she and her family were no longer homeless.
“You look like you need a friend,” a man with a mop of curly hair down to his shoulders said as he sidled up to her.
“I’m good,” she said, her gaze fixed on the stage.
“You’re beautiful, but I’m sure you hear that a lot.”
Ashley shrugged and took a sip of her drink, but the ice had melted, diluting it and leaving it tasteless. She put it down on the bar.
“Do you want a fresh one?” the man asked.
“No, thanks.” She continued to stare at the drummer setting up his kit on the platform, hoping the guy next to her would get the hint that she wasn’t interested.
“I haven’t seen you around here before,” he said, brushing against her.
“Lay off, Leo. She’s not interested.” Whitney’s voice was like a life preserver in a raging river.
Ashley glanced at the bartender and mouthed, “Thanks.”