Stripped - By Brenda Rothert Page 0,46

his neck. Her arms closed around him tightly as she thought about Brian and Gina. Life was fragile, and thinking of that made it hard to let go of Chris.

Sam had lost weight, and Abby was concerned as she looked at her from behind. The bones on her back were getting more prominent. Her hair had lost its shine, and she looked tired all the time anymore.

“How’s it going?” Abby asked as she approached.

“Fine.”

“Do you want to get spray tans and lunch together sometime soon?”

“Yeah.” Sam shrugged.

“I’m worried about you. Is there something I can do to help? I’m a good listener.”

“I’m okay.” Her eyes darted around the room, and Abby wondered what she was looking for. “You’d better get out to the floor, I’ll be there soon.”

Abby sighed as she turned to leave. It was hard to watch someone in a downward spiral, but she had seen it before. She hoped Sam would be able to find a way back up.

The club was alive with activity, and Abby scanned the crowd as she adjusted her bright red bra. A man at a table of middle-aged men waved her over, and she made her way to him. He handed her a folded bill, and Abby tucked it away.

“I can touch you, but you can’t touch me,” she recited.

“I know the drill,” he said, his eyes fixed on her breasts. He’d be an easy customer, Abby thought gratefully. She could check out, do the dance, and move on.

She was halfway through the dance, hovering over her customer’s lap, when her attention was drawn to a nearby table. Her eyes widened in horror as she recognized three nurses and two doctors from the Benedict Emergency Room. They were all staring at her, and only one had the grace to look away when she saw them.

Her heart pounded with nervous embarrassment. She was more embarrassed for Chris than for herself. He would be the object of everyone’s gossip and judgment.

She didn’t want to look back at them, but she unconsciously turned their way again, and saw two of the women snickering at her. Shame flooded her, and Abby desperately wanted to refund her customer’s money and get away.

The song ended and she quickly made her way backstage, keeping her head down the entire way. Even back there, she didn’t feel protected from the ridicule she’d just experienced. She needed to be alone. She went to the storage room, sinking to the cold concrete floor and hugging her knees to her chest.

She’d been fooling herself for thinking she could feel normal. A stripper couldn’t have a relationship, or even a friendship, with a doctor without raising eyebrows. It had been easier for Abby when everything was predictable and stable. Since she’d met Chris, she’d started to hope for things she couldn’t have.

The burn of her eye makeup stung her eyes as she cried, and she lamented the unfairness of it all. Why couldn’t Chris have just looked down on her, like everyone else? She wouldn’t be here, ashamed and bawling in the storeroom, if he had.

The door swung open and Mickey did a double take when he saw her.

“I know you’re not in here getting high,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m just having a moment,” she said, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand.

“Stuff at home?”

“No, stuff here.”

“May I ask what?” Mickey looked concerned.

“Nothing, really. Just some people here who were laughing at me.”

“Laughing at you?” He was incredulous, and Abby knew she would have to explain.

“I’m sort of seeing, but not really seeing, this guy who’s a doctor. Some of his coworkers found out I work here and they came here to make fun of me, apparently.”

Mickey rolled his eyes as he looked down at her.

“Some pretty mature doctors, then, huh?” he said.

“Doctors and nurses.” Abby sniffed.

“Oh, now I get it. Women.”

“Yeah, women are particularly brutal, aren’t they? That’s always been my experience.”

“High school?” he asked knowingly. She nodded miserably.

“I was hounded by this pack of girls who called me ‘Shabby’ because I only had one pair of jeans and they were too short. Those women out there laughing at me brought me right back.”

Mickey nodded sympathetically.

“I can identify. I took my share of shit in high school, too. But, Abby, those women probably stuff their fat asses into drawstring pants and wear them with garden clogs every day. What makes them so special?”

Abby stared at a case of whiskey across from her on the floor, not answering.

“Listen,” Mickey said, bending