never would have been caught in a place like that! And of all the strip clubs in town, he had to come into hers. Meeting the man at the bus stop had only thrown it all back in her face; reminded her that no matter what, she could never forget what she’d been, what she’d seen and done.
Unmindful of her steps, Emily splashed through a puddle, her feet slid from beneath her and she went down hard on her knees scraping holes in her stockings and leaving red abrasions on her skin. Tottering to her feet, Emily limped into the street, dodging a honking sedan as it sped by, and emerged on the other side.
Shivering and soaked, she limped a quarter mile west along the well lit boulevard in front of the mall. Fumbling with her purse she tried to light a cigarette, but the rain and wind made that impossible.
“Aaagghhhh!” Emily shouted up at the sky, frustrated, cold, wet and angry. The shush of slick tires on pavement rolled up beside her and came to a stop.
“I know just how you feel,” Harold said from inside his car, his window coming down despite the rain.
“Where the hell have you been!?” Emily shouted at him, standing on the curb. The rain had welded her hair to her scalp in thin rivulets, her makeup ran down her cheeks and her knees oozed blood from the raw scrapes.
“Are you going to get in?” Harold asked ignoring her question.
“I was…” Emily stuttered, her bottom lip shivering, “I didn’t…aagghh!” She finished in frustration and made her way around the car. Slipping into the passenger seat mindless of how the wet stained the seat.
Reaching into the back, Harold pulled out the thermal blanket he kept in his winter-kit and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“What in the world made you try to walk home in this?” Harold admonished, rubbing the blanket on her shoulders. “Why didn’t you wait for the bus?”
“I couldn’t,” Emily said, beginning to shiver uncontrollably now that she was out of the rain and into the warmth of Harold’s car and the adrenaline that spurred her on drained away leaving her weary and fragile with emotion.
“Why not?” Harold asked pulling away from the curb.
Slicking back the hair from her forehead, Emily took a deep, shuddering breath before committing herself. She was tired of it, tired of denying it; needed to confess, to do something, anything.
“I was a stripper,” Emily stated bluntly. “Before I met you. Before I started working at your store.” Looking out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harold’s mouth open and shut as he processed the information.
“And?” He prompted finally. “Do they not let ex-strippers on buses?”
Emily’s bark of laughter caught her by surprise.
“No,” she said, “the guy at the bus stop recognized me. So…I ran away.”
“How’d that work out for you?” Harold asked.
Emily laughed again, her shivering finally subsiding as the heat from the vents filtered through her wet clothing.
“Can you be serious?”
“All right, all right,” Harold said, “You were a stripper. So what? When I was using, I knew a bunch of strippers; some were good people, some weren’t.”
“Did any of them ever have their fathers come see them strip?” Emily challenged, twisting in her seat.
“Umm,” Harold murmured. “Not that I know of.”
“Exactly.” Emily said. “How sick and twisted is that? My Dad walking in to see his little girl twirling on a pole in a G-string and pasties. Not exactly family hour, is it?”
“Wait, wait,” Harold cautioned, “Your father actually came and watched you dance?”
Emily sat back in her seat pulling the blanket around her tighter. “Well…sort of…I didn’t wait around to find out and split out the back.”
Harold thought for a moment. “Well…maybe he was stopping for directions.”
Emily snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“Okay, okay. But there could be a dozen reasons he came in there that are perfectly innocent. What did he say when you asked him about
Unmindful of her steps, Emily splashed through a puddle, her feet slid from beneath her and she went down hard on her knees scraping holes in her stockings and leaving red abrasions on her skin. Tottering to her feet, Emily limped into the street, dodging a honking sedan as it sped by, and emerged on the other side.
Shivering and soaked, she limped a quarter mile west along the well lit boulevard in front of the mall. Fumbling with her purse she tried to light a cigarette, but the rain and wind made that impossible.
“Aaagghhhh!” Emily shouted up at the sky, frustrated, cold, wet and angry. The shush of slick tires on pavement rolled up beside her and came to a stop.
“I know just how you feel,” Harold said from inside his car, his window coming down despite the rain.
“Where the hell have you been!?” Emily shouted at him, standing on the curb. The rain had welded her hair to her scalp in thin rivulets, her makeup ran down her cheeks and her knees oozed blood from the raw scrapes.
“Are you going to get in?” Harold asked ignoring her question.
“I was…” Emily stuttered, her bottom lip shivering, “I didn’t…aagghh!” She finished in frustration and made her way around the car. Slipping into the passenger seat mindless of how the wet stained the seat.
Reaching into the back, Harold pulled out the thermal blanket he kept in his winter-kit and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“What in the world made you try to walk home in this?” Harold admonished, rubbing the blanket on her shoulders. “Why didn’t you wait for the bus?”
“I couldn’t,” Emily said, beginning to shiver uncontrollably now that she was out of the rain and into the warmth of Harold’s car and the adrenaline that spurred her on drained away leaving her weary and fragile with emotion.
“Why not?” Harold asked pulling away from the curb.
Slicking back the hair from her forehead, Emily took a deep, shuddering breath before committing herself. She was tired of it, tired of denying it; needed to confess, to do something, anything.
“I was a stripper,” Emily stated bluntly. “Before I met you. Before I started working at your store.” Looking out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harold’s mouth open and shut as he processed the information.
“And?” He prompted finally. “Do they not let ex-strippers on buses?”
Emily’s bark of laughter caught her by surprise.
“No,” she said, “the guy at the bus stop recognized me. So…I ran away.”
“How’d that work out for you?” Harold asked.
Emily laughed again, her shivering finally subsiding as the heat from the vents filtered through her wet clothing.
“Can you be serious?”
“All right, all right,” Harold said, “You were a stripper. So what? When I was using, I knew a bunch of strippers; some were good people, some weren’t.”
“Did any of them ever have their fathers come see them strip?” Emily challenged, twisting in her seat.
“Umm,” Harold murmured. “Not that I know of.”
“Exactly.” Emily said. “How sick and twisted is that? My Dad walking in to see his little girl twirling on a pole in a G-string and pasties. Not exactly family hour, is it?”
“Wait, wait,” Harold cautioned, “Your father actually came and watched you dance?”
Emily sat back in her seat pulling the blanket around her tighter. “Well…sort of…I didn’t wait around to find out and split out the back.”
Harold thought for a moment. “Well…maybe he was stopping for directions.”
Emily snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“Okay, okay. But there could be a dozen reasons he came in there that are perfectly innocent. What did he say when you asked him about
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