Her story warms my heart. It really is a phoenix-type story. She burned to ashes but then rose from them. It’s inspiring and only makes me love her more. I go to tell her that, but she says, “I know that it isn’t your typical childhood story, but I’m not ashamed of it. I think it made me stronger. I just never wanted to tell you because no one knows but Reese and Phillip.”

“I’m glad you told me,” I say, squeezing her hands.

A grin pulls at her lips. “Not scared? Don’t want to run the other way?”

I shake my head. “Nope, I admire you for your strength and power to overcome the shit that was dealt to you. You are inspiring, baby.”

“Thanks,” she says shyly as she looks away, a grin still gracing her lips.

“And I know what your next tattoo should be.”

“What?” she asks, her fingers playing with the strings to my sweats.

When she looks up at me, I say, “A phoenix, because your story really defines just that.”

“You’re right.”

I nod. “I know I am.”

“Oh, hush,” she says with a laugh. She then shakes her head as she says, “Wow, we really had a come-to-Jesus talk, huh?”

Reaching out, I take her sweet face in my hands, bringing her closer to me. “Yeah, and I have to say, I think I love you more.”

Grinning, she leans her head to mine and says, “I couldn’t agree more.”

Crawling slowly and very provocatively, I move to the end of the stage and then quickly spread my legs behind me in the splits. Running my hands down the lace of my top, I stop above my center before turning to my back, letting my legs fall open then shut and open again. Tens, twenties, and even hundreds rain on me as I circle my legs to the music of “Fever.” Arching my back, I go to the tip of my toes and then bring myself to my feet, kicking the heels of my shoes against my ass as I walk toward the middle of the stage where my chair sits. With every step I take, a bill falls to the ground and I mentally count each one, adding it to my bank in my head.

I’m so close I can taste it.

Tonight is a good night. Lots of really important, rich people are here tonight, and they are throwing the cash like it’s nothing to them. But it’s everything to me. Taking the back of the chair, I shake my ass to the music, and the crowd claps and whistles in appreciation of what I’m doing. Straddling it, I lean back, letting my head brush the ground as I move my hands along my body, giving the boys a show. Sitting up, I turn around, stopping my legs in front before standing up just as the curtains go up. Behind me are four other dancers, and right on the beat of the music, we go into a hard-hitting dance routine that flaunts our bodies in the best way possible.

Slowly the girls head back up the stairs, posing in various styles as I go back to the end of the stage, my eyes never leaving the older man who has been giving me loads of money all night. Dropping into a squat, I run my hands along my thighs. His beady brown eyes darken as he stands, coming toward me. Ben, our security guy, stops between us, and the guy puts his hands up as I continue to shake and move. Opening his wallet, he takes out hundreds and waves them in front of Ben’s face, but he doesn’t care one bit about the money.

But I do. I want that money.

I pat Ben’s shoulder and he steps to the side. I slowly move my body, biting my lips as I bend to the left, shaking my ass for him. He can’t touch me. If he does, Ben will dismember him – but he can look. Running my fingers from my lips down my chest and between my legs, I give him a very seductive look, one that I know is my moneymaker, and he lays eight one hundred dollar bills at my feet, nodding his head, still holding a bunch of hundreds.

“Take something off, sweetheart. Let me get a–,” he says, but before he can get the last word out, Ben places his hand on his chest.

“This is the burlesque side. The naked girls are on the other side,” Ben yells.

The man shakes his head. “But I want her.”

“She isn’t yours to take,” I hear Ben say and then he turns to me. “Go on.”

I nod, blowing the man a kiss, and as I slowly walk backward trying to get some more money, I see the guy go to take back the money he laid on the stage. Ben is quick to act, and just as fast as the old guy reached for the money, his face ends up against it.

“And that’s it for our beautiful Diamond. Let’s hear it people, she’ll be back out soon.”

Turning, a grin comes on my face as the crowd hoots and hollers for me. Going through the curtains, I let out a long breath before pulling off my pin-curled, blond-haired wig. The wig is so itchy, I’m going to have to get another one, but I love this style. It is so pretty and very burlesque. As I wait for Tony, our money collector, I scratch my head and basically moan out from how good it feels. Pulling down the long black gloves that go up to my elbows, I tuck them into the bra of my lacy black outfit before stretching my arms. I’m sore and I’m tired, but I only have one more dance and then I’m done for the night. I haven’t seen Ms. Prissy yet and I need to.

I’m gonna quit the stage.

I can’t take it anymore. I feel like I’m lying, and I can’t do that anymore. I love Jude too much. Ever since we lay in bed and basically opened the closet and aired it out, I know I can’t do this. I should have told him then. He was so compassionate, so sweet and understanding. He thinks I’m strong and believes in the person I am, and I think that’s why I didn’t tell him. I couldn’t taint what he thinks about me; I want him to continue thinking I hung the moon and stars. For that to happen, I have to quit. I have to let this go. Yes, it’s hard because I am so good at it, but I just can’t help but think that Jude will throw a fucking fit.

For the last two days, I’ve felt like I’m allowing some guy to change me, but sometimes you change for the right person. Reese doesn’t do this anymore. Yeah, she’ll choreograph stuff, but she hasn’t been onstage since she was twenty-one, back when she didn’t have someone to care if she danced for men. I found that person early, and this isn’t a job that a girlfriend or maybe even a wife should have, especially the other half to an NHL player. How would that look? What if people found out? How would Jude handle that? Yeah, he may be fine with me doing it, but what about when the world finds out? I don’t know and that scares me. I can’t lose him. I just can’t. If something happens and the investors want to hire me, then I’ll tell him about this. He’d have to be proud, right? He’d still believe in me, but then again, maybe he won’t and everything will come crashing down on me.