Tender, Goldie and Kat, inside the dressing room, began their transformation from regular women to sexy strippers. More and more Tender sought to distinguish herself from the rest by wearing something different. She had learned to play a role when she performed. She got into rocking a short nurse’s uniform, a construction worker’s outfit, complete with lunch box, hard hat and orange fluorescent safety vest, and other fantasy dress. By going the extra mile, she drew a lot of attention to herself.

She got a lot of play, even without the costumes. The atmosphere among the dancers in strip clubs is competition in that there are those who try to be “that Bitch,” the star. There were strippers who stood out, turned heads for various reasons. Their facial beauty, body or charm got some notice. Then there were those who just sparkled like a diamond for no particular reason. Tender was among those who naturally shined.

Haters began to spring up left and right from close and far away. Kat seemed to think that all the money Tender spent on outfits was a waste. And she told her so. But Tender didn’t feel that way. She kept right on doing it, spending her money on what she liked. The other strippers in the club hated on Tender, mostly because of the company she was keeping. Kat was known for having a big mouth, sharp tongue and arrogance. Kat’s clique tolerated her because they owed her.

“Whatcha wearin’ tanite?” Kat asked Tender. She was slipping into a skimpy red, white and blue outfit that almost made her resemble Wonder Woman.

“You’ll see,” Tender replied, as she pulled up her black fishnet stocking.

Goldie interjected, “Tender, I don’t give a fuck whatcha wearin’! Ta each his own.”

Goldie didn’t particularly care to get all dressed up in an outfit only to have to take it all off anyway. She opted to wear a black thong with matching stilettos. Tender and Kat continued to dress, ignoring Goldie’s remark. More and more, whenever Goldie was involved in a conversation that had anything to do with stripping, she automatically turned negative. It was like she was letting everyone around her with a pair of ears know she could care less about being here. She didn’t belong here. She was unhappy.

“I’m gone,” Kat announced, grabbing her clutch purse. “It’s money out there. And I know them niggas iz horny and drunk and feelin’ real generous.”

Before she could leave the dressing room, in walks another stripper named Cookie with the exact same outfit on. Kat was instantly pissed. She began to talk loudly.

“Bitches, ain’t gotta original bone in their body.” She spat, pretending to be talking to her clique. “I hate a copycat, na’mean? Bitches too busy trying to be me. Insteada doin’ them.”