If I was going to become a stripper this week, type didn’t matter. According to Miles and the other dancers I’d spoken with, the only thing that mattered was the money. Lisa hadn’t hustled and they had hated her for it. I needed the dancers at Dalton’s to accept me so that I could figure out what went wrong with Lisa and maybe get a few clues as to where she went next. But I didn’t want to be intimate with strangers I wasn’t attracted to. I doubted Miles would pay me for a lap dance every night—not that I wanted him to. For him, I’d do it for free.
I was willing to dance on stage and do a striptease. I wasn’t ashamed of my body. I had trained hard even when being a professional dancer was out of the question, because in the back of my mind, I knew that I would audition for a show again. Unfortunately between the pressure of school, work, and Lisa those auditions had been few and far between. It had taken Lisa’s accident to slow down both of our lives. And while I felt no guilt about finally taking my shot, I knew I couldn’t do it if my sister needed me. But there were limits to my devotion.
There was no way I was going to bump and grind on a guy that looked more like Jason Voorhees than Jason Momoa. I wasn’t in this for the money. I needed to find Lisa before my vacation time ran out. There had to be a way to compromise so that I could avoid the VIP room and stick to just the stage.
When the GPS said I’d reached my destination, I found a place to park on the side of the road and hoped I wouldn’t get a ticket. I stared up at the lackluster apartment building. It was in a part of town that was crowded with people from all walks of life, reminding me a little of Brooklyn. Lisa would fit right in. Why had she come to Las Vegas of all places, though? If she had wanted to get as far away from my mother as possible, she could have gone to California or Hawaii.
Still, I understood the lure of Sin City.
Groaning, I pressed my forehead to the steering wheel. How did trying to find Lisa evolve into me taking off my clothes and dancing? I had to admit, it excited me a bit. Was this how Lisa felt? Was it the thrill of the forbidden that tempted her to throw off the strict rules and regulations she’d made for herself? Or did she want to dance again and feel the approval of the crowd without straining her knee? And then there was the money. I couldn’t shake the allure of making so much in such a short time.
I checked my phone again. Why wasn’t she answering my calls? I could understand her ditching Mom, but Lisa had to know by now that I would go away and leave her alone once she checked in. Getting out of the car, I locked it up.Please be home.
At the building’s entrance, I rang the bell under her apartment number, but there wasn’t an answer. It was just past eleven. I should have waited until the morning. If she had a day job, she’d be getting ready for bed. If she had a night job, she’d be working. I waited a few moments and buzzed again. Still nothing. I didn’t want to come back tomorrow. I wanted to see her or at least see her apartment tonight. While I was debating what to do, an older gentlemen exited the building and he held the door open for me.
“Thank you,” I said.
Lisa’s apartment was on the ground floor, so I walked down the hall and knocked on her door. I hoped she’d answer and let me inside. We’d have a glass of wine and I’d be reassured that she was just fine and was hiding out in Sin City from our family and her responsibilities. I’d wish her well and spend the rest of the week doing touristy things and convincing myself not to go back to Dalton’s and Miles Carvello.
The door flung open and a woman—not Lisa—glared at me. She wore a half tied robe. “What?”
“I’m Lisa’s sister,” I said.
“She doesn’t live here anymore.” The woman started to close the door.
“Wait,” I said, grabbing the door. “Do you know where she is or how I can find her?”
“No. She left in a hurry and put me in a bad spot for next month’s rent.”
“I can pay her part of the rent for this month, if you can spare a few moments to talk with me.”
The woman glared suspiciously. “How did you get this address?”
“Miles Carvello gave it to me.”
Her face cleared. “Oh.” She opened the door wide. “Come on in. This should be good.”
“I’m sorry for bothering you.”
“I should have been up anyway. I’ve got to go to work in a couple of hours.” She stifled a yawn behind her hand. “I’m Becka, by the way. Your sister left me high and dry for five hundred dollars.”
“I can write you a check or wire it into your account.”
Becka thought about it and said, “Can you PayPal it?”
Once I sent it, Becka brightened up a bit. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Thanks,” I said, although drinking coffee at this time a night would guarantee I’d be up for hours. I pushed Miles Carvello and what we could do to pass time out of my mind. Scanning the small living area, I didn’t see a trace of Lisa. “Was that her room?” I pointed to the closed door.
“Yeah. Feel free to look around, but she took all of her stuff out.”
Inside the small bedroom was a generic futon bed that had seen better days, an Ikea night table, and an empty closet with a beaded curtain. It looked like my college dorm room. I did a quick search of the room, but I didn’t even see so much as a dustbunny. Going back into the main room, I sat down at the kitchen table.
“How long did Lisa live here?”
“This would have been her third month.”
The timing seemed right. “How did you two meet?”
