We ride in silence for all of two minutes before I just can't take it anymore.

"Why would you do that? Why would you? Vince? What the fuck are you thinking? What about Joey?!"

"He's cheatin' on me," Tara sniffs, fiddling with the heater, turning it on full blast. My anger lulls, but only fractionally.

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

A lone tear rolls its way down her cheek and she wipes it away hastily with the back of a silver glittery nail.

"I found rubbers in his wallet. He don't wrap that shit with me. Why else would he have them, if he weren't fuckin' some other bitch? And then—then he was in the shower, earlier and I—I decided to check his cell—y'know…" She trails off, a choked sob escaping and my heart sinks with the realization she's being serious.

"I just had this feelin' in my gut cos he's been actin' funny. And I was fuckin' right! Messages between the two of them! So fuck him, I got bigger fish in my sights."

"Shit. Tara—that's, that's—it doesn't even make sense!" I'm shaking my head. She doesn't respond, wiping furiously at her eyes as she drives.

Joey cheating on her? He doesn't seem the type. He's a good guy. He's always been a good guy. Now he's cheating? I can't quite wrap my head around it, not sure how much more twisted this night can get.

I stare out the window into the dark; snow falling thicker and faster the closer we get to home.

"But Vince?" I say incredulously, coming back to the first point, voicing my disbelief out loud. "Seriously?"

Tara smiles through watery eyes and looks across at me.

"Hung like a horse."

"Oh my God! I don't need to know that shit," I moan, hand to my face, screwing it up in distaste.

***

I find it hard to fall asleep when we finally get in. I can hear Tara crying, so I creep down the hallway into her room, crawling over to her so we're spooning, wrapping her up in my arms until her sobs turn to sniffles; because despite everything Joey cheating on her has gotta hurt.

She turns toward me, so we're almost nose to nose, eyes red-rimmed, even in the gloom of the early hours.

I snuggle my head into her pillow, finding her hand, clasping it with mine and for a while we lie there.

"It just hurts," she tells me, voice wavering. "I've made mistakes, I've owned them and we said- we said- we'd put all that shit behind us. Move forward, y'know? I just don't get why he'd do it now… revenge or some shit?"

I stroke her hair, hesitant. "I dunno. It makes no sense. Are you sure… are you sure you're not just takin' things the wrong way? Maybe?"

She shakes her head. "Literally it's there on his cell. Him sayin' he can't wait to be inside her. It don't get more clear cut, other than me walkin' in on him balls deep."

I squeeze her hand tighter.

"Are you OK? After tonight?" she asks after a while, rubbing at her nose.

"Did you know about Luke?" I respond, tentatively.

She shakes her head, covers rustling with the movement.

"Not before tonight, babe. Shocker. Who would've thought, right? Fuckin' dickhead finally gettin' what he deserves."

I hum. I don't know what to think, really. I mean, why is he even locked up right now? What did he do?

"Maybe it'll help with the nightmares. Knowin' he ain't out there?" Tara carries on.

"Maybe."

And then there's Miles. I think about what he said, over and over, until Tara is fast asleep next to me, her breathing even and shallow.

Slipping away into my room, I toss and turn, unable to switch off, watching snow drift in the pale morning light against the window, tracing the bobbled Artex swirls on the ceiling with my eyes.

His reaction to me, his attitude the entire night leave a whole heap of questions. Did he mean what he said? Did he really stop Vince from forcing me to work at that other place? What did Vince mean by 'all out'?

I can't ask about the last two, because I'm not supposed to have understood what was said… but the first.

I grab my cell from the rickety side table, scrolling to his number.

It takes me three attempts to actually send a message, indecision wrecking me. Tapping it out one more time, I press send before I can back out, my heart hammering against my chest. I've got nothing to lose.

Why didnt u then?

***

Startling awake sometime around three in the afternoon my bedsheets stick uncomfortably to my face, a cold sweat on my skin, even though the air is nippy from the freezing cold weather.

Feeling unsettled, I blink trying to remember why. And then I wish I hadn't. My heart sinks into my feet as I pull the covers tighter around myself, reaching for my cell.

2 messages

My thumb and fingers suddenly feel weak as they move over the keys.

They're both from Miles. Sent not long after I text, maybe ten minutes or so.

Cos Im a fckn idiot

I want 2 see u

My chest aches unexpectedly, a deep urge for fleeting moments of something I thought we might've had before.

Do I want to see him?

My bottom lip is between my teeth. I'd hoped he'd call, for weeks, and he didn't. So I got on with things and I'm doing fine, everything considered. I don't need to see him.

But there's always been some part of me that wants to say yes to him. I still felt it last night, I'd be lying if I said I didn't, that pulse of attraction. Maybe I do, even if it's to chew him out.

Last night.

It all comes flooding back, like reflux; impossible to stop and acidic. Eating away at me until I fling the covers off and stumble into the kitchen, one thought, in particular, pressing on my mind.

Cracking open Tara's old Toshiba laptop, I search Luke's name because I can't not know why. No one said why. Why was he arrested? What did he get charged with? I've tried desperately hard not to think about him in months, nightmares aside, and all it takes is one night to throw me back into a tailspin.

There's no harm in knowing, I figure. Maybe it'll help, even, like Tara said.

His mugshot stares up at me as I click on a Chicago Tribune news article. He looks ill, but not sick; just jacked up, eyes glassy, pupils blown. Thinner, more unkempt than I've ever seen him before.

They arrested him, alongside Travis, with seventy-five thousand dollars worth of cocaine in his car. Travis was driving and they're both looking at time. A massive amount of time on felony drug trafficking charges.

I slam the laptop shut. Taking a minute for it to digest. Overwhelmingly, I feel relieved. Locked away he can't touch me, but something isn't sitting quite right.

Luke was always low-level. He sold, for sure. He distributed to a point, but trafficking? That suggests he was bringing stuff in from elsewhere and I don't think he was that deep. But what do I know? He did a lot of shit I didn't know about.

I text Charlotte, asking her about it. She would've told me if she'd known. I'd like to think so, anyway.

Another long night of work beckons so I get up and showered. I can't hear any movement from Tara's room as I pad out the bathroom, so I dry my hair and throw on ratty sweats for yoga, going through the asana sun salutations without her.

I didn't really get yoga before, but it isn't at all hokey like Charlotte keeps saying, plus the extra flexibility helps with learning moves for when I'm practising pole. I actually like that too, it can be really fun, learning new moves and putting together combinations; even if it makes my muscles ache and my hands burn. I don't care what anyone says; I have a new respect for anyone who can hold and invert their own body weight on a piece of metal.

I check my cell once I've finished stretching out all the tension. Charlotte hasn't replied yet which is unusual. Her and her phone are inseparable. I vaguely wonder if there's a new guy on the scene she's yet to tell me about; because that's the only logical explanation I can think of right now.

I sit and stare at Miles' texts instead.

Cos Im a fckn idiot

I want 2 see u

Maybe I do want to see him.

He can wait though.

I figure I have.

***

Work is hectic, Madison still bitching about me dropping her in it last night, so I pick up the slack for her, even though I'm sure she made a heap of extra tips out of it. I'm actually relieved about being so rushed off my feet with clients because it means I can avoid Carter, who's been trying to get my attention at every lull. I just can't be dealing with him tonight.

It's Kessie that manages to corner me in the dressing room, by my locker, just when I'm about to brave the snow for a cigarette.

"What is it about you?" she says, tossing long brown hair over her shoulder. She's leaning against the lockers, her arms crossed under a quarter cup bra, her nipples spilling out.

"What is it about me what?" I say turning to her, slamming the door closed. She's eyeing me with dislike. Bristling with it, actually.

"That's got all these guys trippin'. Got a golden snatch or somethin'? Cus you're not anything special really, are you?"

"I don't know what you're on about, Kessie," I tell her, pulling on my coat, fishing out my hair from the back of it.

"That guy from last night—I offered to blow him and he straight up turned me down." She's sneering, a trace of bitterness in the way her lip curls up. "And Carter. He's been sniffin' around you ever since you started."

"I don't like Carter like that, it ain't my fault he dropped you after one hot minute. Take it up with him, not out on me."

Aliyah appears at my side, twirling an eyebrow pencil in her fingers. She jabs it at Kessie. "Maybe guys like Mia cus she ain't no dollar store hoe. Carter know you're offering extras on the regular?"

"Well, not all of us can be frigid bitches." She mocks my reaction to Carter touching my arm last night and I feel mortified she's picked up on that. "Your ex in the slammer too," she taunts. "Thought you were gonna cry like a lil bitch. He your first or somethin'?"

I shake my head. She's so, so far off the mark. Instead of engaging with her I decide to be the bigger person and just walk away, not trusting my clenched fists.

Aliyah joins me outside in the back alley for a smoke, leaning up against the wall beside me as she sparks up, sheltered in an area where the snow hasn't managed to touch.

"Just ignore her," she says, smoothing silky straight black hair. "Kessie's all bark and no bite, y'know?"

"I dunno about that."

"Look, I got your back, hun and I know you got mine where she's concerned," she pauses inhaling deeply. "Carter was bang out of order draggin' up personal shit in front of clients though. Didn't take a blind man to see he shoulda just shut the fuck up."

She takes a couple more deep drags before stubbing her half-smoked cigarette out on the wall, leaving black marks on the brick. "Tryin' to quit," she replies when she sees my face.

"Good for you," I tell her, genuinely.

Just before she opens the door to go back inside a thought strikes me.

"Hey, Lee, what do you know about Fever?"

She pauses and turns to me, heel holding the door open. "Fever? Girl, you don't wanna touch that place. Less strip club, more brothel."

My blood runs cold.

"Are you serious?"

"Mhmm. That place—from what I know, the girls are up for anything... just promise you ain't even entertainin' that."

I shake my head. "I promise."

She smiles, satisfied, the door slamming behind her.

My head finds the wall as I stare up into the night sky, bringing my cigarette to my lips with a trembling hand, things clicking into place, making sense, now. Where Vince wanted me to work, what he wanted me to do to work off Luke's debt.

And Miles stopped it.

Fuck.