At least she has a reason to go into the world and bring back money, even if it comes from the wrong places. We’re two of a kind, you and me, she told me. We both loved a lot, but we never did it right. Maybe that’s true but we ended up in different spots. She’s looking out for another life besides her own and I’m not looking out for anybody but her, another stranger on the list of strangers I’ve looked out for. She has the baby living inside her, and when she does him wrong at least he can kick back and say, What was that? He can say, I’m still here.

Once Winnie has her baby, who knows how much help she’ll need? I’ve got so much love to give her little boy. There isn’t another person who could have so much.

One night I saw her dance. She forgot to bring her dinner to the club and asked if I could bring it. Damned if I’m spending my rent check on their lousy burgers, she said. I packed her a sandwich and some of the banana juice she’s crazy for. She thinks it’ll make her baby strong and keep him from catching cold. I don’t think babies can catch colds inside your body but I’ve never told her that. What do I know, anyway? Lucy said I had the hiccups even before I was born. Maybe some things start early.

I drove by the Wal-Mart, where possums are always getting smashed. They scuttle across the highway toward the big Dumpsters. They get so bloody they sparkle. It’s like a code message from the universe spelled out with their gut-strewn little bodies. You get the gist of it fast: Fuck you fuck you fuck you.

Her club didn’t have any windows. The awning said Live Girls Live Girls Live Girls. Who were they? They’d come from one-road towns in the middle of the country. They’d grown up watching the sunset and thinking: Maybe, someday. They wanted the absolute West. They wanted an ocean to stop them. Now they were here.

The club was nearly empty. Music came from speakers tucked behind zebra-striped booths. The stage had a single spotlight cast like a bright pupil on the wood. Winnie was hooking her leg around the pole. She leaned back like she was fainting, slid toward the metal until her crotch was against it. She wore a lace tunic over her belly. She spread her legs into an open V and cupped her open palms over her breasts. They were huge, and they must have been sore. Her body was getting ready to feed another body. There was something happening that was almost beautiful but I couldn’t name it: the heavy motion of her shadow, the thump of each foot hitting the stage with her whole weight and another weight that wasn’t hers. I couldn’t look away. I wanted to.