Besides, she needed a little time to breathe some fresh air and think. Get away from the throbbing music, hooting customers, and smell of stale beer and cigarettes. The club had gone downhill, too. The night was a little chilly, but the further she got from Bourbon Street, the quieter and calmer it seemed. She even imagined she could smell the river, which was probably just her imagination.

She had danced until eleven, when she’d been forced off the stage by Big Al’s latest “find,” a girl who wasn’t a day over sixteen unless Karen missed her guess. But the girl, Baby Jayne, with Kewpie doll makeup, long blond pigtails that nearly swiped her tight little ass, see-through baby-doll outfit, and boobs that would make Dolly Parton envious, had all the customers streaming in for the after-midnight show. Even though she was awkward with the damned pole. Karen had watched a lot of the younger woman’s act, spent time lurking near the door, observing Baby Jayne’s pornographic moves. There was no seduction in her dance, no allure, just the obvious.

Now, it was late.

Nearly three in the damned morning.

It just wasn’t fair.

To think that at thirty, she, Bodiluscious, had been demoted. Her tips a few years back had been incredible—on some nights she’d made enough to pay her rent and buy a bit of nose candy—but now, after the storm had nearly wiped out the town and Baby Jayne had strolled into the club, Karen was lucky to have enough money to pay the bills each month. Which was probably good. If she had extra money, it tended to find her nasal passages. She’d been clean for over two months and she intended to stay that way. She was gonna put her life together. Hell, she couldn’t dance forever.

She kept angling toward her little house, which had miraculously suffered only minor damage in the storm. For that, she’d been thankful.

She cut across the street and felt as if someone were watching her, which was ridiculous. For God’s sake, that was her career, to have men ogling her, the more the better. She knew what that felt like.

Click, click, click. Her footsteps kept right on hitting what was left of the sidewalk. And she kept her eyes ahead of her, afraid to make a misstep on the cracked concrete and end up turning her ankle. What then? Her career would definitely be over.