Linkara at least had the decency to wait until they were out of the club and on the street to say anything. "That was dumb of you."

"What?" Spoony asked. "Not dancing my hardest after being out all night?"

"No, talking back to Critic like that. I know you were trying tonight." Linkara glanced around before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his night's pay. "How much did he short you?"

"It's okay, I probably earned it last night."

"You danced as hard as I did. Now how much are you short?"

Spoony pulled out his own wad of bills and they stopped under a streetlight to count it out. It turned out that Critic had shorted Spoony by nearly fifty dollars—not much to a respectable person, but for someone like Spoony, a good deal. Linkara quickly divided the money correctly before looking seriously at Spoony. "Come on, you need a drink."

"I can't…"

"On me, okay?"

Spoony hesitated, but going out to get drunk with Linkara meant that he wouldn't have to go home and be alone. "Okay."

They headed to their usual spot, a large, crowded bar with cheap drinks, bad lighting, and music that was horrible but still not as bad as the stuff they danced to. Linkara went to the bar and ordered their usual drinks while Spoony found a secluded table in the very back.

"Okay," Linkara said as he sat down and slid a glass across the table. "What's going on?"

Spoony glared. "How many times do I have to tell you it's nothing?"

"If it was nothing, you wouldn't have mouthed off to Critic. If it was nothing, you wouldn't have danced like you were about to die. If it was nothing, we would have made enough money to avoid getting yelled at. So tell me what's going on before I change our song to Nickleback."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?"

Spoony glared for another minute before his face softened and he took a sip of his drink. He could never stay mad at his friend for long. "It's really not something we need to talk about," he mumbled.

Linkara's face softened as well. "I will get the truth out of you, even if I have to spend all my money getting you drunk," he said softly.

Spoony sighed. "All right," he agreed. It would be a relief to tell someone, even though he knew what Linkara's reaction was going to be. He took another drink before continuing. "Last night, after the set, I was heading out when one of the regulars—the one who always sits at table six, you know?"

"The one who throws hundred dollar bills at you?" Linkara asked. "The one who wears designer suits when it's ninety degrees and who looks like a bonobo?"

"Yeah, him. Anyway, he comes up to me and says he'll pay five hundred dollars for a private show."

Linkara exhaled. "Five hundred? That's…"

"I know. And I agree and go with him." Spoony's hands were shaking and he quickly took a drink to steady them. "So we go back to his place, big, expensive type house, and he takes me in. We go over the rules. He knows what to expect. I told him… anyway, I do my thing, maybe get a little personal, but not too far, and when I'm done, he says it was well worth it and offers me a drink." Spoony blinked to keep the tears back. He wasn't going to cry. Not now. Not here, with Linkara looking at him with so much sympathy that he could just melt. "I… I took it… and he must have put something in it because I kept feeling numb… and then I fell over and I couldn't move and he… he picked me up and… and took me to the back room…" He broke off, trying to get himself together. Not crying. Not breaking down now. "And… I told him before that it wasn't okay… I said no before it even started… but he just ignored it and…" He couldn't go on. Couldn't hold it in anymore, not with it playing over in his head, the helplessness, the darkness, the rough body invading him. He looked up and saw Linkara's shocked face and that was when Spoony broke down, the tears falling down his face even as he tried to hold them in.

Almost immediately, Linkara had come around the table and sat down on the bench next to Spoony, wrapping his arms around his friend. Spoony completely lost it, burying his face in Linkara's shoulder and sobbing for all he was worth, his hands clenching in the front of Linkara's shirt. Linkara stroked his hair and back, murmuring soft words of comfort that Spoony couldn't even hear. Luckily it was so dark and they were so secluded that no one seemed to notice them.

Finally, Spoony stopped crying enough to finish the story. "As soon as I could walk again, I caught a cab and went home. Luckily he paid me in advance… anyway, I got back and somehow got upstairs to shower… I know I shouldn't have, that I should have gone to the police, but I didn't want to… he told me while it was happening that if I ever told he'd get the club shut down… and I need this job, Linkara, I can't fucking afford to live otherwise… and I managed to sleep a little… but I know I was really fucking bad tonight, that I wasn't really into it…"

"Hey, it's okay," Linkara murmured. "No one could give a good performance after that." He pulled back and looked seriously at Spoony. "You have to tell someone."

Spoony gave a forced little laugh. "Who? The police? There's no evidence. I went with him willingly and any evidence of the drugs is long gone."

"You could tell Critic..."

"What's he gonna do? It happened off the property, it's out of his control."

"He could ban the guy."

"A guy who can afford to throw hundred dollar bills at the stage?"

"A guy who makes the dancers unable to dance."

"I can dance fine."

"Clearly not well enough."

"It's like I said. He threatened to report us as a brothel and get us shut down."

"So we'll go somewhere else," Linkara said. "We'll tell Critic, Critic bans him, he starts shit, we take our act to a different club and start over."

"He'll find us."

Linkara paused. "Maybe," he admitted. "What about a different city? Just pack everything up and get out of here as soon as we tell Critic what happened. Say that if he ever comes back, we go somewhere else. We could just grab whatever we have, throw it in my car, find work wherever we can…"

Spoony shook his head. "And then what? Keep moving? Flee the city every time some creeper takes advantage of us? We're whores, Linkara, and we're always going to be no matter where we go."

Linkara glared at him. "We're not whores, Spoony. We're strippers. People look, but they don't touch. They're not supposed to touch. What he did wasn't your fault and was definitely illegal. You have to do something."

"I don't have to…"

"And if you don't, I will."

"You can't go anything if I don't let you."

"Can't I? There's a limit to how far I let you ignore this." Linkara stood up. "Finish up, then I'm taking you home."

"You don't have to…"

"And you are definitely not working tomorrow."

"You can't make me!"

"Watch me," Linkara said. "I'll take you to my place and have Harvey watch you if I have to, because you cannot work right now. I saw you tonight, and Critic won't allow another performance like that to slide. I'll tell him you're sick and I'm going solo, I've still got a routine."

Spoony sighed. "You really like this stripper with a heart of gold thing, don't you?" he said, finishing his drink. "But all right. Just… don't tell him, all right?"

"Someone has to."

"I know. I will, I just need to think about it a little. Figure out how to approach him and all."

Linkara nodded. "Fair enough. See how you feel after tomorrow. But if you don't tell him before next weekend, I will."

Spoony nodded back. It was the best he could hope for. "Okay." He rubbed his eyes. "Do I have mascara all over?"

"No, you're fine," Linkara assured him.

"Take me home?"

"Back to yours? Or do you want company?"

"I… I don't want to be alone."

"Okay." Linkara gently took his hand and pulled him up. They left the club and Linkara hailed a cab outside. As they rode back to Linkara's apartment—slightly nicer than Spoony's since he had found an roommate with a classier job than dancing naked—Spoony leaned his head on Linkara's shoulder and tried to relax. Linkara put his arm around his shoulders and it almost, just almost, felt like it would be okay again.