Chapter One: Get “Rich” Or Die Trying

She leaned up against the brick wall of the local thrift store, close to Harrisburg Pike and Mound Street. It wasn’t the best of areas, but Angel had certainly been in worse. Her grey jean shorts, tshirt, and vest were worn. She wore black boots that were in desperated need of replacement. A lit cigarette hung loosely out of the corner of her mouth. She watched as a few cars drove about in the parking lot. She heard shouting, catching her attention as her gaze shifted to two men arguing under one of the lights in the lot. No doubt things would soon get physical between them.

As she watched them, her hands in her pockets, she heared footsteps behind her. She gripped the knife in her pocket tightly and her body tensed, the footsteps getting closer.

“Angel” a male voice spoke from behind her.

She stayed still, watched the two arguing men. Her body relaxed a bit. He was no threat to her, she knew him.

“Angel” his voice a bit more stern.

She looked toward the ground, inhaling on the cigarette in her mouth before reaching up and pulling it out, and flicking the filter to knock off the loose ash.

“Come on girl” she saw him nod and tilt his head out of the corner of her eye, ushering her to follow.

She took another hit from her cigarette before smothering it out on the bottom of her boot. She pushed herself away from the brick wall and followed him. Her hands back in her pockets, she followed him behind the building, and to a black four door 2012 chevy pick up truck. The windows were tinted dark enough that it almost seemed that there were no windows. He opened the driver’s door and got in, shutting the door behind him. Angel walked around the car and got in the passenger’s side.

He started the car, threw it into gear and drove back around the building and across the parking lot.

Angel stared out the window. The two arguing men were fighting now, grabbing and throwing each other around.

“There’s a party tonight at PD” he informed her, “you’re on.”

Angel was silent. She didn’t mind performing at the PD, it was fairly public, the bouncer was pretty nice, and always looked out for the girls. All she’d really have to do is stand on stage and shake her ass for a bit. It was quick money, and she was glad that was all she’d have to do tonight.

“Here” he tossed her a bag, making her jump a bit.

Angel opened the bag, and pulled out a black studded bra and matching hot pants. It would be her outfit for the night.

She put the undergarments back in the bag and closed it. She would change when she got to the club.

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“Hey, Brik” she said to the bouncer as she opened the door to the club.

The bouncer smiled and grabbed the door from her and held it open. “Rich got you working tonight?”

“Yep. Someone’s gotta pay the bills.”

The bouncer laughed before sending a “see ya” after her as she walked in the club.

Angel’s eyes adjusted to the light pretty easily, as she was acustom to working in dimly lit rooms and buildings. It came with the trade. She pushed her way through the small line of people waiting to pay the cover fee, and into the main area of the club. Head down, she headed to the side of the stage and through the “employees only” door. Angel squinted as the harsh lights hurt her eyes. That would take a moment to adjust to. She found an empty spot at the table in front of the large mirror that spanded across the far wall. She set her bag on the table, and pulled out out the skimpy garments, and striped of what she was wearing. She slipped into the bra and hot pants, adjusting to make sure they covered all necessary areas, even if it was barely.

The girl next to her turned and headed out towards the stage, and Angel gathered up the girl’s makeup and began applying it to her own face. The girls were use to sharing such things, as there wasn’t much money to spend on everyone having their own. She powdered her face as pale as possible, adding a dark red wine shaded eye shadow and a thick black line of eyeliner. She found matching lipstick and applied it before looking in the mirror. She russled her hair a bit and reexamined herself. Finding herself satisfactory, she headed back out the door to the club, and up on the stage.

As people, mostly men, gathered around the stage to watch, Angel danced half heartedly. Her head was never in her dancing, and she would never let her heart be in it either. She gave them what they wanted, but little did they know how little it was of her. Accepting a few dollars from a handful of men, her eyes scanned the room. The night was slow, but Angel knew that making eye contact with the men, and holding their gaze would draw them in and they would pay more.

After smiling and holding eye contact with a few men, and gaining a bit more cash, Angel caught eye contact with a man at the back of the club. He had eyes that appeared to be harsh and judging, but the longer she held his gaze, the softer, sadder they became. He was bald, but had a trimmed and short mustache and beard that seemed more like controlled stubble. His skin was tanned, and he was fairly built. He stood about six foot, hands in his pockets. He wore a black tshirt and dark jeans. She held his gaze as long as possible, urging him to come closer. But he broke the gaze, lowering his head to look at the ground.

Angel’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as the man turned and headed to the nearby bar.

She continued dancing, taking quick glances at the man at the bar, until another girl came out and Angel backed off the stage and back into the back room.

She pulled a few bills from her hot pants and bra, uncrinkling them. She pulled her grey shorts back on, over the hot pants. Surprisingly, they covered her better.

“Where’s Rich?” she asked one of the other girls.

“Heavens.”

Heavens were the upper floors of the clubs where the owners of the clubs and the owners of the girls usually stayed. Out of sight of the paying customers. They didn’t want to add tension around the customers. Relaxed customers pay more money.

Angel headed out to the main floor of the club and around to the other side of the stage, and down the hall towards the restrooms.

“Hey there sexy slut.”

She felt a hand slap her ass pretty hard. She turned quickly, one arm swinging, hoping to swat the man across the face, but he had stepped back just in time.

“Don’t touch me.”

He laughed and stepped towards her, grabbing her waist and pulling her to him.

She squirmed, demanding him to let go. Customers aren’t suppose to touch the girls.

He turned her, and forcefully shoved her against the wall, pressing her face against the cold wall. He grinded his pelvis against her ass, and whispered in her ear “be a good girl and you’ll get your tip.”

He put his forearm agains the back of her neck, pinning her still. He tugged on her shorts, trying to pull them down.

“I’m asking you only one more time. Let me go.”

“I’ve always wanted to fuck the ‘Fallen Angel’ and put her in her place” he responded, using her stage name, referencing her black attire and dark makeup.

She growled, stomping the heel of her combat boot on his foot. He howled in pain, letting go of her to step away. But Angel gave him a swift elbow to the side of his face before he managed to get out of reach, sending him sprawling towards the opposite wall.

“What the fuck is going on here?” she heard Rich’s voice shouting.

Angel turned to the perverted customer, “don’t fucking touch me, pig!” She turned towards Rich, walking past him, shoving her dancing earnings in his hand and out the back door of the club to the secluded grass behind the building.

The door slammed shut behind her.

She sighed.

“Tough time in there?”

Angel turned, seeing the man who she held her gaze with, leaning against the wall of the building, just inside the shadows.

“What makes you think that?”

“I heard the shouting.”

She bowed her head, digging the toe of her boot into the grass.

He sighed, reaching into his shirt pocket, and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “Cig?” he offered, walking over to her.

She looked at the box as he held it out and open to her. She looked up at him before pulling one out, and putting it in her mouth. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked the flame on. She cupped her hands around it as he lit the cigarette for her.

She turned away from him, and sat on a stone a few feet away.

“So what’s your name?” he asked.

She inhaled on the cigarette before pulling it from her mouth, “Fallen Angel.”

“I’m not talking about your stage name.”

She looked up at him, her eyes narrow. For some reason he seemed easy to talk to “Angel.”

He nodded “and that guy?”

Her eyes narrowed more “Rich.”

“He your pimp?”

Now he was getting too personal. “He’s a friend.”

“A friend you give all your money to?”

Here eyes stayed narrow, not responding to him.

“Let me guess, he holds your money for you so you don’t have to worry about it while dancing.” He paused, leaning back against the wall of the building. “Why are you doing this anyway?”

“Gotta get rich somehow” she replied taking another inhale from the cigarette.

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