Elvira Cruz was not a beautiful woman, but men seldom noticed it when caught in the heavy entrancement born from the sway of her hips the way the men in front of her were right now. Born in poverty and molded from childhood to adolescence by dark, intrinsically unclean things, she bore the ease of movement that people do when they are forced to grow up in an animalistic claw to survive. Silently confident, quick of movement but slow to engage emotionally, she was a hedonistic mix of bad things and virtuous things that fight to stay, like the greenery growing blissfully in the cracked concrete, even though stomped down by lesser men.

She danced slowly and deeply in the dimmed neon light of the club. She had spent countless nights on this stage, her movements both graceful and harsh, meant to evoke lust but almost always certainly evoking feelings of artistic satisfaction in her, moving her to a place of contentment. Dancing was not for everyone. It was not for those who didn't feel the rain but just got wet. She had always been a dancer and a creative artist, even as a child. Music had become a religious experience growing up. Her drawings were always proudly displayed in her school, and her teachers had often sat down with her to push her towards pursuing scholarships for a college of the arts. She had worked odd jobs as a middle schooler to pay for her ballet lessons. Her mother had been useless at providing anything above the bare minimum. By the time she had hit sophomore year she had become a dropout, but that was a story for another time when she had more patience with herself.

For now, she was content to move her body and get paid a high dollar for it. By the time her song wound down she was on her hands and knees collecting the money towards the end of the stage, topless, tossing her hair back as she made her way back up to scuttle back to the dressing rooms in her 5-inch heels. She counted her money proudly as she lit a cigarette, not bothering to get dressed yet even though it was the end of her shift. There was still nothing quite as satisfying as cash money and she always relished in every bit of it that she got, except when it was so low as to almost to be insulting. But having vivid memories of collecting cans to eat always seemed to push that thought out of her head in a moment of shame at her ungratefulness.

"El!' The manager called from the doorway, keeping his back turned to the room as he always did. "You got someone out there asking for you. Lapdance."

She was intrigued by this as she hadn't seen any of her regulars out there. No one had seemed overtly interested in her during her set. To be honest, she was fucking tired and ready to go home and collapse. Her childcare was lenient, but she always tried to be home by 2 AM at least. She looked at the clock despondently as it read 1:45.

"He pay already?"

Anthony held up two hundred dollar bills behind his back and she sighed as she geared back up again, putting her bra back on and the fishnet 'dress' she often wore over her lingerie. She checked her garters and made sure they were clipped back on her knee highs, looking in the mirror and fluffing her hair before applying another layer of lipstick. The man had paid for the privilege after all, the least she could do was look decent.

As late as it was to her, the club was still in full force. Men milling about, every type that you could imagine, some boisterous and some silently appraising. Some girls, as usual, out for a night with their boyfriends to prove they were lackadaisical and 'cool' enough to hang out at a strip club with no resentments. That was a shockingly common occurrence.

She averted her eyes quickly and paid little attention to the man who had waived her over, sitting in his chair, not with his hands but with the dark, gentle insistence of look and the small upward nod he gave to her. She stalked over, her back to him as she started her usual show. She had found that almost no man protested to an ass to gaze at, and she preferred it that way. Up close and personal was not her forte. When she did turn around, she kept her head turned as she danced above him. His energy was strong, almost menacing as he stayed completely still. Before long, his hands began to stray, first by tucking her hair behind her ear as though he was peering to see her face more closely. This made her almost uncomfortable enough to flinch, but she kept her composure, on high alert lest he try to touch her again, which was a big no for multiple reasons both personal and residential. A few moments later, his heavily-ringed hand cupped her face, turning her chin so that she finally had no choice but to look at him. Her breath caught in her throat and her movements stilled which succinctly caught the attention of the bodyguard who began moving towards them.

"I knew it was you." He said, his lips turned into a small smile that was the opposite of what she was sure her face looked like, some uncomfortable mixture of shock and sadness. It was him, but he was different. The young man she had known so intimately had morphed into something older, something more violent and opposing. His eyes, however, had remained the same, and she stared into the gentle brown orbs, lost, until the bodyguard reached them.

"No touching, man. You're about to get kicked out. If I have to do that, I expect you leave our girl here with a nice tip for the trouble if you ever plan to come back here again." The bodyguard warned. Angel seemed to pay little mind to the words even if they had registered, and El felt frozen, like she had suddenly lost control of her extremities. Angel gazed appreciatively back at her and the bodyguard's movements and tone became more threatening in reaction to the fact that his initial warning hadn't seemed to have bothered either of them.

The guard gripped El's arm like he was trying to pull her back at up, a weak attempt to break the moment. "You good? You want me to kick this asshole out?"

Angel was visibly aggravated by the man touching her, and she quickly pulled herself up and moved away from both of them, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I'm fine, I'm just tired." She managed, and when they both looked at her like they were waiting for some other explanation, she promptly turned on her heel and headed back to the dressing room. She undressed and got back into her street clothes quickly as the other girls milled about her, some of them noticing the shift in her energy but refusing to comment on it.

Seeing Angel Reyes again was distinctly horrible. She tried to search for a time in the past when it would have been something magical, something that set a fire burning in her again. So much had happened between that moment and now that all she felt utterly was nauseous and numb. Why was he back now, 6 years later, when nothing good could come of it? She stuffed all her money into her back and threw it across her shoulder, leaving through the back exit so quickly and noiselessly that she had not even bothered to hail the guard to walk her out like she did most nights.

Fumblingly with her keys listlessly as she approached her shitty old car, she dropped them and shrieked when Angel appeared in her view, having jogged across the parking lot towards her when he spotted her walking out.

"Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!" She raged, hitting him on the arm as she tried to collect herself again, ashamed of how easily spooked she was. Angel looked at her with no shame, from top to bottom. She was severely aware of the fact that she had just been grinding on him half naked, although now she was in a tank top and sweat pants, her hair pulled into a messy ponytail on top of her head. She was wary of him and looked like she wanted to bolt. All he could think about was pulling her body to him, to hug her, to grab her chin with an unshakeable determination and kiss her like he used to. But now he was 5 feet from her and she looked scared, and his energy deflated.

"Wasn't here to scare you." He said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Wasn't here for you at all. But I saw this beautiful woman up there dancing…" He said, moving closer to her. "I couldn't keep my eyes off her. I could barely think straight." She let out a shaky breath as he invaded her senses, his hand coming up as her rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip. "I just wanted a closer look, for selfish reasons. Wasn't til you were half naked above me that I realized I wasn't fucking dreaming and it really was you."

She felt like she was floating, drifting farther as he spoke. Her mind spun in magnetic circles as she closed in on a single memory that seemed to be on repeat in her mind in rapid, sickening succession. Her eyes were shut, and she let herself go back to that place; that place she had closed off a long time ago in a calculated move of self-preservation.

Angel wrapped his arm around her waist as they moved against each other, her back to him as the music animated their movements in some rare, lovely form of hypnosis. These were the moments, the small moments she lived for. She craved them and as long as they kept coming, she had something in life to look forward to. Something warm, something that hit in the right places. Something that kept her from the obvious destruction that seemed written for her. Their worlds could be falling apart around them, but there was this. The sun was setting silently and gloriously out the front window of Angel's childhood home. The sky cast purple and orange on the city and made something dirty into something temporarily timelessly beautiful, the same way the music pouring out of his fathers record player cast them into players of a beautiful moment that could only come naturally when two people love each other and themselves and the world around them in equal measure.

'Let the music take your mind…

Just release and you will find

You're gonna fly away

Glad you're going my way

I love it when we're crusin together

The music is played for love

Cruisin is made for love…'

It was a song they listened to often as they drove through the city and the neighborhoods they lived in his father's car. It had always put her at peace and held a special place in her heart, but something about this moment, now, captivated her in a way she knew she would never forget. Angel's beer sat lonely and abandoned on top of the record player as they swayed together, his hands moving down appreciatively to her hips and her body moving with a mind of its own. One hand strayed from there and up to her neck, wrapping sensually around it as she turned her head, capturing his lips in a kiss so deep they were lost even further into the carnal crooning that invaded the room…

She was almost lost completely, but the dampness of the night and the chill that fell upon her shoulders brought her back into reality. Angel looked like he was about to kiss her, and she pushed him back suddenly, without enough force to hurt him but enough to catch him off guard. They locked eyes and she pushed passed him and fumbled with her keys to get in her car.

"El…" He started sadly, but there was a forcefulness behind his tone that she knew well. And she knew if she got caught in it there was no turning back.

"Don't fucking come around here again." She bit back, opening the door, her hair swaying riotously like the untamed look in her eyes.

The ride home was entirely uneventful, the stillness of the night in the city a curious affair that she often marveled at. The palm trees swayed silently, and even though the city was still very much alive even at this time of the night, there was a blanket of tranquility over it, the night softening the rough edges of it all. She pulled into her driveway and rested her head on her steering wheel in defeat. Peering through her inky black lashes at her house she was hard-pressed not to feel a feeling of sincere contentment and gratitude. It was nothing special, a small stucco bungalow in an old neighborhood. It was dirty and gritty with the dirt of time on it. She was just one small space in the slot of many in her neighborhood. But it was the only place she had ever called home for a significant period and she had fought for it with every bit of her and always would. Seeing her past come back tonight had shaken her up, but underneath it all she felt some strange sense of opportunity. It was both blindingly beautiful and inherently terrifying all at once.