Is It Really Love?

Her heartbeat calls to me.

Even working in a strip club around near perfect bodies, she occupies my thoughts.

Pull out my Samsung Galaxy Mega, send her a text message.

Don’t get a chance to check her response, a fight breaks out in VIP, then a drug dealer is asking for me at the front door.

Get a sizeable tip.

Text reads.  “Getting ready for bed. Left a key under the plant.”

 Check the time, it's 3:24 a.m. we're about to get a rush.

We’re the strip club everybody comes to when everything else is closed.

Women routinely pay their $75 entertainment fee as late as 4 a.m. place officially closes at 8 a.m. but we often don’t leave until 10 or 11.

I’d rather be home with her but I don’t know of any other job where I can bring home $500+   for one night.

Two more “Dope Boys” and a local rapper decide they’d rather pay me then the night club.

Good.

Going to get her something nice.

It’s only been a month, but I think I love her.

Want her happy.

By the time I make it to her house, pockets are stuffed.

Bank stack my cash in her driveway, double check my pockets for loose bills or illicit substances.

 X-pills, and other party drugs get twisted up in the quick hand to hand cash often. 

Don’t need that kind of drama. 

Yup Molly.

A big hunk of it. 

Pinch a piece.

Swallow the tiny piece with the last of my energy drink.

Toss the rest in my center console.

Someone will give me some money for it tonight.

Go inside with the key. 

Fold $750 onto the dresser.

It was a good night.

Halfway through my shower drug kicks in.

Never had water feel so amazing.

Sex is earth moving.

She knows I’m on something.

Just rides the wave.

Passed out after the Third encore.

Wake up to new clothes.

Stylish.

Elegant.

Stuff I’d never buy myself.

Colors I wouldn’t normally rock.

Like them though.

Stagger down the hall.

Need coffee, smell it.

Pots off.

Coffee's slightly warm.

Tepid.

Overload it with sugar and creamer.

Nuke it.

Thunder rumbles.

It’s 5:26 p.m. 

Feel lazy.

I’m there alone. 

Call her.

Meet up for Mexican food.

Head to work straight from the restaurant.

Tough night.

Starts off badly.

Ends with me in the hospital.

She visits once.

Guess my injuries scare her.

Recover alone.

Burn through savings.

Get evicted.

Move back home.

Love  wasn’t enough.