Page 6 of After Midnight

“You hiding out back here?”

“Nah.” I flash him a quick smile and run a hand over my buzzed head. “Just needed air.”

I don’t think he buys it. But he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he says, “Let’s go out. I wanna party.”

Briefly, I fight a battle with myself. Eating an entire pizza and falling into a hotel bed sounds amazing right now. We’ve gotta be on our plane back to Cali at seven, so going to bed would be the responsible thing to do. But my blood is still humming from the show.

And I don’t really want to go back to a quiet hotel room alone.

So I say, “Yeah, sure.” Then I slide off the box and stride toward him, stealing the beer can from his hand and taking a big swig, ignoring his burst of curse words. “But first, a shower.”

chapter 3

Remi

IT’S ALMOST MY TURN ON the main stage. Caliber is crowded tonight—more so than usual. When I asked Fantasique what the chaos is all about, she told me there’s a music festival in town this weekend, which means a bunch of hyped-up out-of-towners wanting to see some tits before they head home.

Backstage, I roll out my shoulders and stretch my back, limbering up for my set. Then, through the speakers, the DJ announces, “Now on the main stage, the mystifying Mirage.”

There’s a round of applause and whistling as I step through the curtain. Tonight, I’m wearing a royal-blue lingerie set, with silver heels and matching body glitter. Deciding what to wear each night is a big part of my process; it determines what kind of energy I step onto the stage with.

The DJ starts my music, and I walk slowly toward the pole.

Every element of the performance is important, even the way I walk. It’s part art, part intense workout—especially in five-inch heels.

When I make it to center stage, I wrap my hands around the pole and do a slow fireman spin, then roll my body and toss my hair. A few flecks of glitter drift down around me, twinkling in the stage lights.

The crowd watches, eyes glued to me, drinks in hand. The bass thumps, heavy and slow.

I smile, and I give them a hell of a show.

By the time my second song starts and I’m about to take my top off, I glance into the VIP section, and two guys in one of the booths catch my attention.

Because I recognize them.

It’s pretty common to get celebrities in here: musicians, athletes, actors and actresses.

I know these two from their music. They’re in Loaded God Complex, probably here for the festival.

But I don’t know their names, only their faces. One has shaggy blond hair and the kind of sharpness to his eyes that warns you to steer clear of him. The other has a face that’s way too pretty for his own good: a square jaw, strong cheekbones, and big brown eyes.

Eyes that are currently meeting mine from across the crowded club.

It’s hit and miss with the celebs who come into our club, but it’s always worth a shot.

So I hold his gaze steadily as I pull the ties on my top loose and let it fall to the stage.

His eyes shift down as I run my hands across my breasts, fingertips flicking the piercings in each nipple. But then he meets my eyes again. And it sends a bit of curiosity through me.

Usually, the men don’t spend much time looking into my eyes, wanting to see my body instead. But this guy keeps staring right at me.

I continue my dance, combining pole and floorwork, and every time I glance back into the crowd, those same brown eyes are still focused on me.

“Give it up for Mirage,” the DJ says, and a few extra bills come fluttering down onto the stage as my second song comes to a close. But the guys in the VIP booth don’t move.

So I’ll go to them.

After gathering my tips and touching up my hair and makeup backstage, I prepare to go work the floor. And sure enough, some of the other girls are talking about the guys from LGC. It’ll be a race to see who can get one of them into a private room first. And I’m determined to win that race.