So, not only was I worried because I thought my incoming cash would reduce, I thought it’d be boring, being there nine to two (which was actually a cut in hours, it used to be seven to three, but the last headliner—me—went on at 1:45 and then it was pure strippers for the next hour) and only working for maybe twelve to twenty minutes a night.

But Smithie had tripled the already substantial cover charge in order to hike our salaries.

He’d also increased the price of drinks.

And even if I wasn’t onstage as often, preparing for my next dance was a total do-over in hair, makeup and costume, not to mention making sure our new stagehands had whatever I was going to use sorted.

Topping that, I had to have new material all the time. I had yet to dance the same dance twice and wasn’t set to recycle for another two weeks. That was some serious work, having that number of routines performance ready.

In other words, that amount of prep and rehearsal took a lot of time.

With relief, I’d found quickly that I didn’t have anything to worry about.

Smithie’s used to be a hip hot spot.

Now it was a super-hip hot spot.

The Revue was a smash hit, even the papers were writing about it.

And Dorian had set up some social media that had gone from around a hundred followers to over a hundred thousand in just a week.

As such, the velvet ropes were jammed outside to the point they had to turn some people away.

And my tips were off the charts.

Before the Revue, I never had a night less than five hundred dollars in tips.

Since the opening of the Revue, I hadn’t made less than seven hundred in tips, and the opening night, it was over two thousand.

So even though it was weirdly more work, what with having to have so many routines, and those routines having to be amazing, it was more money.

And it was a lot more fun.

This was what I was thinking when Sylvester and I walked in the back door and down the dancers’ hall.

I wasn’t thinking about fun when I heard the voices coming from the main room of the club.

I hesitated.

“Everything cool?” Sylvester asked when I did.

I stared at the open door to the club, hearing Ryn’s voice, and Lottie’s, and in the midst of thinking I’d turn right around and text Ian, asking him to tell me when the club was empty so I could rehearse, another thought invaded my head.

This thought being it was time to grow the heck up.

These were my friends.

And I’d done them wrong.

I needed to fix that or face the consequences if I wasn’t able to.