LITMIR.BIZ

      To Dorothy McFalls, Judy Watts and Vicki Sweatman: wonderful friends, insightful critiquers, amazing writers and rockin’ concert buddies!

       Chapter 1

      “Hey, Vera, whatcha think?”

      Vera Mancuso—or as the patrons of the Diamond Lounge gentlemen’s club knew her, Vera LaRue—glanced over at her friend Tawnisha and nearly dropped her makeup brush.

      “My God, Tawni! Kinky Cat Woman?”

      When she looked closer, she did drop her jaw—all the way to the floor beneath her own four-inch crystal-clear heels. Why she continued to be surprised by her friend’s outrageous outfits she’d never know. Vera had worked at the club for nearly four years now and Tawni’s daring outfits still managed to shock her. Tawni always teased her for being too naive for an exotic dancer. Maybe she was right.

      “Too much?” her friend asked.

      Vera choked on a laugh. “Uh. Maybe too little?” Yikes. “Aren’t there parts missing?” The black latex Cat Woman costume—complete with whip—was minus several strategic bits. The outfit left pretty much nothing to the imagination.

      But then again, Vera reminded herself, that was the whole idea here, wasn’t it?

      Tawni grinned. “Only the important parts.”

      “Too hot to handle, girl!”

      “Just the reaction I’m going for.” Tawni wiggled her hips in imitation of what she’d be doing onstage in a few minutes. “Rumor is there’s a real hottie out there tonight.”

      Vera grinned. “Loaded, too, I hope? Because I could seriously use a few good tips tonight.”

      “You and me both.” Tawni crooked her fingers playfully. “Come to mama, baby. Let’s see you boys flash those twenty-dollar bills.”

      “Twenties? Damn. That outfit’s gonna bring out the fifties.”

      “What I like to hear, girlfriend,” Tawni said. “Those poor slobs don’t stand a chance.” She gave the mirror a final check, winked and strutted out of the dressing room.

      Ho-kay, then. Great news for Tawni. Bad news for Vera. If the punters tossed all their cash at the Kinky Cat Woman during the first set, there’d be nothing left for Vera’s Naughty Bride half an hour later. No, not good. Joe’s retirement home payment was due in a few days, and after her vintage Camry finally broke down last week she was still three hundred bucks short, let alone her own expenses for the month.

      Unbidden, her eyes suddenly swam at the thought of her once-burly stepfather lying in his antiseptic white room. He’d been so full of life, had so many friends, before. Now…she was his only visitor, and he hadn’t even recognized her two nights ago.

      She blew out a breath, fanning her misty eyes. Don’t go all weepy on me, Mancuso. Spoil your makeup and forget about those big tips. Buck up, girl!

      Besides, tears wouldn’t help—they never did.

      And if she got really desperate, she could always borrow the money from Darla, her sister. Well, half sister. Except Darla had taken off, and who knew when she’d be back. Maybe Tawni could help out if worse came to worst. If her friend hadn’t already spent all her money on some outrageous new costume by that time. The woman went through expensive stage outfits like Vera went through romance novels.

      Not that Vera should be complaining about the costumes. In fact, she was very grateful for them. Tawni was one of the big reasons the punters kept coming back night after night—and telling their friends back home in Des Moines about the great club they’d found in Vegas on their last business trip. Diamond Lounge: Women in the rough, perfect and polished. Yeah, that’s what it actually said on the playbill out front. Seriously. With a sigh, Vera rolled her eyes. Lecherous Lou’s idea, of course. Who else? Now there was a loser. Why couldn’t he get Alzheimer’s and forget all about Vera and his relentless campaign to get her to sleep with him?

      Anyway, Tawni was one of the rough girls. Supposedly, according to Lecherous Lou. And Vera was polished. She snorted. Ha. Tawnisha Adams had graduated from UCLA magna cum laude and was one of the smoothest operators she knew. Vera was the only trailer trash around here, living the life her mother had lived before her. Mentally kicking and silently screaming.

      Ah, well. It was what it was.

      She leaned forward toward the big lighted mirror that covered an entire wall of the dressing room and critically

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