Ethan and his bodyguards stood in the hallway, keeping an eye on the situation as the women started moving. J and Q stood out among the bodyguards in black t-shirts and black jeans with steel toe boots. Their heads were buzz cut to remove all hair and then shaved to render them utterly bald. With their high cheekbones and chocolate brown eyes, one could be forgiven in their thinking that these two were twins.

They wore sunglasses sometimes as they thought it would keep their eyes hidden. That way, no one would see where they were looking or be able to guess what they were thinking. They used this obscurity to watch over Ethan and the club's back during meetings such as this. However, out in the actual club, eye coverings, even decorative ones, were a hindrance.

Those that received envelopes with pink slips, and the newly retired Stacey's, left entirely and weren’t seen as the rest started to get ready for their night. The new top three moved to their former vanities to collect their personal effects. Though J or Q told them rather quickly, Ethan had already transferred the makeup and clothes they ordered to their new dressing rooms.

As the ladies like to call them, the cosmetics and the stage costumes were ordered in bulk every few months. They planned out their routines and outfits following the holidays each month, if there were any. So each woman had a storage locker filled with, at least, a month's worth of costumes and cosmetic reserves.

Beyond the mass dressing room was a staircase leading down to an enclosed section of the basement. It had been remodeled to resemble a high school's gym locker and shower area. The lockers were two feet wide and four feet deep with rows and racks to hold the cosmetics, costumes, shoes, and whatever jewelry they decided to wear with the outfits. The costumes were labeled for the day they were to be worn, as were the shoes to match.

The area next to the lockers was the shower stalls. They were dimensioned as deep as the lockers but were four feet wide, so there was just enough room for one person to go in, wash, and get out. However, unlike the lockers and the vanities in the mass dressing room, the showers were not assigned for a specific woman's use. And soaps were not provided or to be left in the showers unattended lest they be stolen, or worse, tampered with.

Stacey had warned Mal that a job opened up here was because a former employee had put bleach in another woman's shampoo bottle. Apparently, this woman also had no sense of smell because she had used it, and the effects were devastating. The culprit was immediately fired, the victim quit, allowing Mal and a short time later, Jessica, to come work at Red Lights.

But it was for this reason that Ethan already moved the new top three’s things. Ethan and his security had the spare keys to the lockers in case the women lost theirs. It also allowed them to move the contents to the now vacant dressing rooms.

Mal only needed to grab some pictures and the jewelry box she kept locked in the drawer at her old vanity. She was grateful that Kimberly was in too much of a shock to ruin her pictures. A couple were of Mal and her friends from work, but the rest were of Christie. While they were replaceable, their destruction still would have hurt Mal.

The jewelry box Kimberly couldn't have gotten to without Mal's key to the drawer, which she left on the vanity for the next woman to use.

Mal quickly found her new dressing room, the gold star with her name in bold was a dead giveaway. Q had followed along behind her and opened the door for her.

"Ethan will be along shortly." Q explained as he left the door open. "He had maintenance change the locks shortly after the boys' arrest. Remodeling took place the next day."

Mal, who had been looking around, did notice the changes. While the vanity was built in, the granite top was new.

The mirror attached to the vanity with its surrounding lights was still the same. But the floor-to-ceiling mirror to Mal's left was new.

Across from the vanity where the couch used to be, was now a couple of recliners with an end table set between them. A seashell lamp was sitting on the end table. Those were all new.

The once Champaign glittering walls had been painted over and were now a pale lilac.

Overall, the layout was the same. The walk-in closet and decent-sized bathroom next to it were located to Mal's right, just as Mal remembered from her tour during orientation. However, a quick check saw both places had her things from her storage locker.

"Ethan doesn't waste any time." Mal commented as she checked the drawers of the vanity. Finding all of her cosmetics and various brushes and sponges neatly organized.

"Like he said," Q shrugged, "this was going to happen anyway."

With that, Q walked away, leaving her door open.

Mal set her pictures along the vanity, arranging them how she wanted them. She had more room with this vanity than she did her old one, so she could spread them out rather than cluttering them together. After that, she made sure her soaps were organized how she wanted them in the spacious shower that the bathroom provided. Also, to make sure she knew where the towels were.

Having done all she could think to do, Mal sat down in a rather plush vanity chair. Finding it surprisingly comfortable.

As she rested her head back, waiting on Ethan to arrive, Mal noticed for the first time how quiet it was. In the mass dressing room, it was loud. There was always someone talking, shouts to get attention, and most times, there was music playing. Today had been the quietest that room had ever been.

Mal closed her eyes and enjoyed the quiet. This quiet was somewhat calming. Easy to get addicted to. She had to learn to tune out the commotion in the mass dressing room. It had been difficult, but she had managed. She could see why Kimberly, Bertha, and Debbie had wanted to keep these to themselves.

"But it also made them forget they don't have total privacy." She muttered.

"What was that?" Ethan asked, stepping inside and closing the door.

"Just thinking that this quiet is addicting and how it most likely lured the former three into a false sense of security."

"I guess that's one way to look at it." She heard Ethan sigh.

She turned and saw him sitting in one of the recliners, his elbows on his knees, his face down, and his hands fisted in his dirty blonde hair. He was dressed in his usual slacks and a button-down shirt tucked into his pants, with a belt that matched securing it all. Due to the summer, his pants were cream-colored and thin cotton, while his shirt was white with a white tank underneath, keeping it from being see-through. The air condition pumping full blast kept the long sleeves from being uncomfortable.

"Do you regret your choices then?"

He snarled as he resurfaced, his dark brown eyes turning even more ominous in his ire. "Absolutely not!" He took a calming breath and sat back. "I'm just exhausted. Ever since "that night," I've been working like crazy. Dealing with lawyers, the police, the boys' parents. This place closed for a couple of days, but I still had to deal with the remodeling, deliveries, and cranky vendors."

"How did the meeting with the lawyers and cops go?" Mal asked. "Is it true that the protestors got involved?"

"Yeah, they did. They showed up at the hearing to launch their campaign and martyr the boys. Thankfully, the parents don't want that either."

"I take it part of the deal was firing the former top three and arranging the cops to be here tonight to pick them up. And Stacey, you're making scarce because she's genuinely innocent, and you don't want her name involved with this."

Ethan gave Mal a curious look, "Your deduction abilities are uncanny; you're one hundred percent right." He grinned. "It took all of my self-control not to tell them that the cops were waiting for all of them outside, minus Stacey, of course. J made sure to tell Stacey to wait until the cops were gone before leaving. Ralph is staying with her until Greg gets here."

"She called her husband?" Mal asked curiously as she unpacked.

"Yeah, right after the meeting and J's warning. It's better this way, as the car she had was the club's anyway." Ethan sighed. "I'm sad to see her go."

"She was here with you when you started working here, right?"

"Her and Greg, yeah." He said with a nod. "Greg and I were bartenders; she was a beginner at the club. Part lap dancer, part bartender. They fell in love early on. They were married a few years later. They worked and together finished putting him through college while she took a few courses at the community college. He got on at a law firm but was an intern for the longest time. She worked here to keep paying the bills. When they had Jimmy, he'd been promoted to full-time staff. Here recently, he was made partner, and the firm is doing quite well."

"And that has nothing to do with your hiring their services?" Mal smiled.

Ethan chuckled. "Certainly not. While I hired Greg as my lawyer because of our relationship, his hard work and tenacity got him promoted fast."

Mal got up and began looking through the closet. "How did you come to own this place?"

"Ten years and working to make yourself invaluable to the owner has its merits." He said with a dark tone. "I worked, made myself his second hand. I coaxed him into making me a partner so he could "relax" in early retirement. I never liked how underhanded he ran the place. I started to make changes little by little after I took charge. Firing those loyal to the old boss and replacing them with those loyal to me. Then I moved onto the guests. All those with criminal records were banned from here. I finally kicked the old man out a couple of years before you came here, and I've been working hard ever since to make this place reputable and on the right side of the law. The deal I have with the cops works in their favor as well as mine."

"What about the former owner?" Mal asked, a little concerned. "Do we have to worry about him?"

Ethan shook his head. "The old man took his money and went to Vegas. If he was going to make a move against me, it died there with him."

"Did he get mugged or something?"

"Or something. Heart attack, induced by too much Viagra." Ethan chuckled. "He never could keep it in his pants. He took a dancer home with him by promising her a better job."

"And that brings us full circle to tonight." She said, not looking at him as she got up and went to the closet. "Did they have any other requests other than me?"

"Lace." He said. "For the top outfit, they asked for a naughty secretary kind of thing. The under part has to be something with lace. Apparently, the groom and his best man have a fetish for the fabric. Or so the best man claims, but that's what they requested."

"Do I detect kindred spirit in that?" She asked, looking back at him with a small smile.

"I like anything you wear." He said simply.

"You really shouldn't say such things." She shook her head. "The girls will think their suspicions are confirmed."

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." Ethan said.

Mal turned and looked at Ethan, confused and concerned. "I thought it was about the promotion."

He shook his head. "No. I want to talk about us."

Dumbfounded, all Mal could muster was, "Oh."

Suddenly the room felt warm, and she started to feel queasy. This was not a conversation she wanted to have.

"You sign the papers tomorrow, right?" Ethan's question broke the silence.

Unconsciously, Mal's arms wrapped around her stomach. "Hopefully."

"Then now would be a good time to talk about us."

Mal looked at Ethan and saw nothing but confidence staring back at her.

"Ethan," She said carefully, but it wasn't enough, she hadn't even finished, and he already looked crestfallen. "I can't."

"Why not?" He demanded, almost in a yell, as he launched to his feet. "Why won't you take a chance on us?" He took a step towards her, every facet of him pleading. "Don't argue the age gap or the employee and employer shtick; it belittles us both."

Mal pointed in the direction of the mass dressing room. "What happened in there proves otherwise. It's a valid concern."

Ethan nodded. "Okay, you have a point, but hear me out."

Before Mal could agree and disagree, he started. "One- you're twenty-nine, I'm thirty-four. That's what, five years? It's not that big of a difference. Two- I'm the boss, and you work for me, yes, but that's not all that there is. When I'm here, I'm always busy with work, so there will rarely be a time when a relationship between us would affect our work. Three- The only one who truly had anything against us becoming a couple was Bertha. Even if there are more naysayers, with you now in the top three, you have a great deal of protection from them."

Ethan had begun to pace as he talked now. "And if for some reason you're dropped from the top three and still work here, I can easily remodel the space next to my office as a separate dressing room. One that only we have access to."

Mal began to panic. "Why wouldn't I still be working here?"

Upon hearing her tone, Ethan faced palmed. "Oh, Mal, I didn't mean it like that. Of course, you have a job here; as long as you want it, it's yours."

"Then, what did you mean?" She asked cautiously.

"I meant that," Ethan heaved a sigh. "once we're together, you don't have to work here anymore. Not as a dancer anyway." He gave her a hopeful smile. "If you wanted to go to college, I'd support you. Or Stacey could train you on how to deal with the management of the dancers. The cosmetics, clothes, and such. And what we do with the cast-offs and surplus."

Mal's stomach kept getting worse and worse. How far was Ethan going to take this exactly?

"That is," He said softly, "that is if you wanted to do that. In all honestly, if you agree to give us a shot, you wouldn't have to work at all. We could buy a house, and I would protect you."

Mal had to fight to keep from getting sick. It was clear now just how far he was willing to go with this.

When it was clear he had said all he intended to and was waiting on her, she took a careful breath. She worried about how to say what she needed to and not hurt him too much. In the end, she decided to rip off the Band-Aid and tell the whole unabridged truth. Maybe then he'd understand.

"Ethan, I went from being a daughter to being married. I was greatly abused in both environments. Some of the details you know, others you don't, and no, I will not tell you." She said, raising her hand before he could persist. Somethings were better left buried. "I've faced more pain and more horror than any person should have to bear, especially a child."

She looked down at this next part; she had to drive this point home to him and herself. "I also," She sniffed and resurfaced, doing her best to keep her voice firm. "I can't have children."

She knew how he would react; despite that, it still gutted her. Ethan, at first, looked shocked, then horrified. He had been making plans for the long run, after all, ones that involved a family.

"Are you sure?" He eventually asked.

Mal gave an involuntary sob. "The doctors confirmed it a couple of years ago. I had to have a partial hysterectomy; that is, I had to have my uterus removed. I was bleeding for two years straight and wasn't allowed to have birth control to regulate my periods. So I bled the whole the time. Which is how August's affair started; I couldn't provide him with sex "in that condition," and he wanted it. Which is what led me to where I am." She said softly. "He left me for some tart little thing fresh out of high school, and she was pregnant with his child when he left. They have three babies now. He doesn't want me to know, but I do. They didn't try all that hard to hide it. My lawyer follows them on Facebook and was trying to find an angle that he could against them. I told him not to. But he wants to crucify not only my soon-to-be ex-husband and my family."

She looked back at Ethan; he still looked shattered. Both stood there in silence; Mal because she said all she intended to, all she could say; Ethan because he wasn't sure what to do or say.

"Boss!" J shouted as he opened the door. "You need to come quickly; there's a situation brewing in the locker room."

"What now?" Ethan demanded a little too forcefully.

"It's Jessica again." J grumbled, not at all perturbed by Ethan's misplaced temper.

Ethan barely glanced at Mal before he left the room. Tears fell as Mal sank into a chair, feeling as if she'd lost a dear friend.

A hand came to rest on her shoulder. "Don't let this get to you." J said softly. "Ethan isn't the best when it comes to close relationships. I don't know what was said, but I can hazard a guess."

Mal patted his hand, then wiped her eyes. "How long do I have to get ready?"

"About an hour."

"That will do." She sighed. "You have the new key so I can get back in later?"

J nodded. "Locking it while working is smart; the other two have plans to as well. Me and Q will keep hold of the keys, so you have them when you're finished for the night."

"Well, then, I have some work to do." Mal said as she shooed J out of the room.

~==(oIo)==~

Mal had always loved to dance, but the community she grew up in didn't approve of it. In any capacity. What people did in their own homes was never questioned, but it never took place in public, and it certainly was never considered for a profession. Needless to say, there was never a dance team or cheerleading at the school system in the community.

As luck would have it, the Government forced the school system to close before Mal started Junior High. While the community officials wanted to home school its youth, ultimately, the movement failed.

At the time, Mal hadn't cared why it failed. She was just glad that it did. Public schools represented a freedom her old schools didn't have. The library was twice the size of the public library back in the community. The school library might as well have been a closet compared to what Mal walked into her first day of Jr. High.

There was also a dance team. While Mal couldn't officially join or go to any competitions, she could still attend practices. Under the guise of a study group and a ride home from a fellow community child, who joined the debate club, no one was any the wiser.

How she was never caught with "forbidden books" or her "sinful actions" of dancing, Mal thought it was a kind of miracle.

As it was, Mal's skill at dancing paid off in the most unsuspecting way.

When Mal reached out for help, her friend, who had been on the debate team and ultimately left the community the first chance she got, steered Mal towards this place. Mal only had to watch a few dancers before she got the picture. Having strip teased for her husband earlier in their marriage, it wasn't too much of a leap to augment her dancing for a stage performance.

Once on stage, Mal allowed herself to get lost in the music and just dance, remembering to strip slowly along the way.

Red Lights layout was simple enough. Five staves made an angle towards the back; the biggest was in the middle, with four smaller ones leading towards the back wall. The back wall was a large glass case with automatic doors, which allowed the women to come out of the back and walk to their assigned areas for the night. It also allowed some girls to dance behind the glass, with its multicolored lighting.

Couches, lounges, ottomans, and solitary chairs were tastefully strewn about the place. Each angled to allow the optimal viewing of the stage nearest to them. Of course, there were tables to allow drinks and food to be placed down for the patrons.

The side walls were lined with booths for lap dances. All of them were open, facing the room, but the walls were high enough to give privacy illusions. With a woman in your lap, the patron wasn't looking at the larger room. Being unable to see the person on either side of them completed the desired effect.

The front was home to the bar and grill with its limited seating. It was home to a variety of finger foods, and the most they did was burgers. A variety of other sandwiches were available as well. With various alcohol types, the list of the beverages they provided was ever-expanding as someone was always inventing a new drink somewhere.

The patrons didn't strictly come for the cooking, but they did get hungry and thirsty.

There was also a second floor, two on either side of the building, stretching above the central area. They were enclosed by a half wall then encased with glass walls to the ceiling, allowing them to be used for private parties. A single-stage was in each of these rooms, with comfy furniture, expensive yet tasteful tables, and an open bar.

There were booths for lap dances as well. However, unlike on the first floor, these were more spacious, with far more comfortable sitting. A satin curtain could also be closed, allowing for total privacy. If one could ignore the security camera in the upper corner to make sure everyone followed the house rules.

Not so long ago, Red Lights wasn't a nice place. Private parties weren't a thing, and they didn't provide food; the main focus was the boozes and the women. There were no security measures other than the front door, and even that was laughable. The women were treated abysmally, and they were required to strip down to a thong or the preferred G-string. Nothing was hidden on the women. Talent didn't matter, so long as they looked good naked.

With Ethan in charge, the working conditions and the quality of the place significantly increased. The women were now required to cover their nipples and crotch. The waitresses and female bartenders were required to wear crop tops and booty shorts, at least. More if they wanted.

It went without saying that some didn't like the changes in Red Lights and stopped being patrons. But the increased revenue more than made up for it. All walks of life frequented the place. So long as they were twenty-one or older.

Mal's thoughts wandered over all of that as she rubbed a shimmery body cream all over herself. It was that or think about Ethan, Christie, or her pending divorce finalization the next morning. All of which were unsafe topics right before working.

"Lace, huh?" she muttered.

A black lace lingerie set with gray satin lining was sitting in the back of the closet. She'd had it for months, having bought it on a lark and never worn it before. She justified she would know what to wear it for when the time came and labeled it her "back up" if she was called into work a private party or even work on a day she hadn't been scheduled to and didn't have the right outfit for the night. She snorted, realizing it was perfect for tonight.

It was tight; the bralette pulled tightly across her midriff and was stretched across her ample bosom. The bikini cut panties hugged tightly as well, showing just enough cheek to be considered sensual and sexy without showing too much and be in violation of the rules.

Over that ensemble, Mal pulled on a pair of thin, breezy suit pants. A button-down white blouse with the pants matching jacket. Black heels completed the look.

"I might have to wear this tomorrow." Mal chuckled to herself. Rather enjoying the way she looked in this outfit.

The last step was the face makeup, and it always took the longest. She sat down at the vanity to get started, took in what she had to work with, and sighed. The bags under her eyes would need a little work, but everything else she was prepared for.

When Mal went with her group for their bimonthly waxing during Easter, they spontaneously decided to dye their hair. Nessie had bleached hers to white, Trina went seafoam green, and another dancer, Angie, had gone with pastel blue, while Mal had gone with midnight purple.

Rather than be angry and demand natural colors again, Ethan ran with it. The former top three were instructed to dye their hair or buy wigs that were pastel pink, pastel yellow, and silver. Then on Easter, they were all dressed up as sexy bunnies.

One of Mal's pictures was from that night before they went on stage. Her, Nessie, Trina, and Angie, arms linked, smiling faces as they were all dressed up as silly, sexy bunnies.

Finished, she looked over the finished product. Mal's makeup all complimented her hair and outfit. Shimmering silver eye shadow with lavender lipstick.

Satisfied she'd done a good enough job, Mal plastered a fake smile on her face. "Showtime."

~==(oIo)==~

From the rather boorish cheers, Mal gathered that she was a hit, and they approved of her wardrobe choices. Music was pumping through the speakers; thankfully, whoever rented the space, trusted Ethan and Stacey to compile the playlist. They must have made it with Mal in mind because she danced with ease and flowed with the melodies. None of them caused her to lose her focus.

She took her time, teasing the rowdy crowd with her sauntering walk on stage, then her stripping slowly. The jacket was the first to go before she even got started. Not that the men complained much.

For a whole song, all she did was dance. Halfway through the second, she began to unbutton her blouse. Two songs later, she tossed the shirt to the back of the stage. The bralette was pulled even tighter across her breasts as she danced. The natural F-cups that they were moved on their own accord as the rest of her body moved, and she had to ignore the ache that it was causing. She would swear to her dying day that it was her chest, more than her talent, that gained her instant popularity.

Another song and her pants were off; she threw this article of clothing into the crowd. Three songs later, she also lost her shoes. As with her shirt, she was careful to aim those where people weren't. Those types of shoes had been used as murder weapons before, and while the chances were low, she didn't want to hurt anyone.

For five more songs, Mal danced, entirely stripped as far as she was allowed. She twisted, dropped, rolled before snapping back up, using all of the stage and the poles for her dancing as she worked and moved her body. She even crooked her fingers at the men as if beckoning them to come toward her.

Despite their drunken jubilation, thankfully, they did not try to climb up on stage with her. Though, Mal attributed that to the groom's efforts.

The party-goers congregated on or around the furniture near the stage. Among them were the prospected groom-to-be, the best man, and about five grooms' men. Each had an item that labeled them. The groom was forced to wear a King's crown, the best man wore a sash, while the groom's men all wore big round pins. The rest of the crowd, which totaled to around forty-five bodies, all-male, wore no indicators and were likely guests to the wedding or simply invited for a wild time.

Of the crowd, only the groom was sober and looked extremely uncomfortable throughout the whole event. The best man tried his best to bring the groom around. Especially after the best man caught Mal's pants and wore them around his neck as a trophy, he'd cheered and viciously shook the groom in triumph, but the groom was having none of it.

When the group seemed like they were going to cross a line, the groom was there to rally them back to a respectable form of behavior. Not something they appreciated, most though, didn't argue with the groom; it was his night after all. However, all of the grooms’ men seemed to follow the best man’s lead more than they did the groom.

With her dancing for the night over, Mal descended from the stage, and the second half of the party began. This part included lap dancers and more drinking. As she had been instructed, Mal sat down beside the groom, legs crossed at the ankles as she looked at the surly groom and smiled.

"So, tell me, is it a lap dance, conversation, or sitting in silence while you fume over the betrayal?"

He looked at her genuinely confused, obviously not expecting that. "Pardon?"

She just smiled kindly. "Generally, Grooms to be are in two groups: You have the ones who lament their single days and want as much dirty play as they get away with right before committing themselves to what they consider to be a life of chains. A few in that category want more, but we don't cater to such desires. Then you have the ones who are actually looking forward to getting married. They view being here as a betrayal to their brides, so we have the private booths up here. Because those grooms either sit and talk, or they are silent the whole time. It gives them the chance to get away from the crowd who are harassing them."

"What kind do I look like to you?" He asked softly.

"You were genuinely shocked when they took off your blindfold. This is the last place you expected to be, and certainly not how you wanted to spend your night." Mal answered softly. "I could see that even from backstage."

"I'm that bad, huh?" The groom winced.

"Not at all. It's refreshing." Mal assured him.

"How so?"

"Hey! Stripper!" the best man called from his seat as if to help his friend, though she knew he could not hear the conversation. "Get up off your ass and do what I paid you to do!"

"Because despite what that sack of flesh lacking in morals may think if you," She said firmly, "From my perspective, your behavior tells me that you are loyal to your wife to be; you love her very much. You probably only agreed to this bachelor party because this is for them, and your woman knows this. Just as you trust her, she trusts you. You actively fight against this sort of thing because of that. You don't want to hurt her or your relationship with her. Hence why I said refreshing."

The groom closed his eyes and lowered his head; she could see him smiling, but when he resurfaced, that look was gone. With the best man once again launching demands, the groom glared at the best man before turning back to her with a playful grin. "Why don't we head over to the booths? I don't want these guys to see what I'm going to do to you."

This resulted in much cheering from the rest of the crowd of grooms’ men surrounding the best man. They thought they'd won.

Mal stood, taking the groom's hand. "So long as you remember the house rules."

That remark had caused the groom to grin while the crowd groaned.

"Thank you." The groom sighed with relief as he sat back and took a look around. "This is much nicer than I remember."

"You've been here before?" She asked, pulling on the robe she had J set inside in hopes of this event.

"Yeah, twice, actually." He sighed. "Not one of my better moments."

"I take it this was back before the club was under new management?" Mal asked from where she was seated. Making sure she was far enough away from the man.

He nodded. "The first time had been when we were accepted into the same college."

"You and the best man?" She asked for clarification.

Again, he nodded. "That was the first time I got drunk. Never once got carded."

"To my understanding, the standards were pretty low here back then."

"That's an understatement." He scoffed. "My second time here, in celebration for graduating high school, the stripper was paid to have sex with me. I was the one who insisted on protection, and I'm glad I did. Kyle, the best man," and isn't that a bitter tone, Mal thought after he said the words, "got an STI after he slept with the same stripper without protection."

Mal shook her head. "How did you guys even get in?"

"Kyle's dad."

"Of course." Mal rolled her eyes. "So I take it this was the last thing you wanted to do for your bachelor's party?"

"I didn't even want a bachelor's party!" He slightly yelled, not looking at Mal, before calming down. "I wanted a quiet night at home, a deep-dish pizza loaded with everything. My Cammy has acid reflux and can't handle jalapenos and most other peppers, despite her love of them. So I try not to eat those around her because it wouldn't be fair. If we had to have a party, I was alright with playing a few video games.

"When Kyle mentioned, "The old days," that's what I was thinking. Not this place. I don't remember it as fondly as Kyle. Though I will say, the quality has improved for which I'm grateful." He then looked at Mal nervously. "No offense."

"I didn't work here back then, so I can't take offense." Mal assured him.

He nodded, clearly relieved.

"What I don't understand is if Kyle was trying to remind you of "those days," why would he bring you here and not another club whose standards match what Red Lights used to be?" Mal asked softly. "More worrisome, is he trying to stop you from getting married?"

He looked at her in shock, and Mal covered her mouth with her hands.

"I am so sorry!" She finally gasped. "You don't have to answer those questions!"

"No," He said thoughtfully. "Those are good questions to ask, especially that last one, and I'm glad you did. You're one hundred percent right; that might be Kyle's end game here! I can't believe I missed that!"

"Why, though?" Mal asked, hoping to avoid a fight.

"To answer the first question you asked, Kyle likely brought me here because one- he knew I'd beat his ass if he brought me to an actual den of iniquity, shall we say."

Mal nodded.

"Two- I can only assume because he's trying to stir up memories to make me want "those days" again." He sighed as he rested his head back. "As I said, he obviously remembers them more fondly than me. He loves those days. I don't; I love my Cammy.

"They can't stand her and actively put her down behind her back. It shocks and confuses them to no ends that I'm with her; they think she's boring. They, especially Kyle, keep asking if I have a mistress, keeps checking to see if I do, and are disappointed when I don't. I think this was part of Kyle's plan to make me see how much "better" life would be without Cammy. But they don't know her as I do. They evidently don't know me either."

"I see." Mal said carefully, understanding they meant the other grooms' men that followed Kyle's lead. "If I may, it seems to me that it's more than that. I think they don't understand what kind of future you want. They can't think past getting drunk every weekend, laying bitches, pardon me, and working just to do it all over again. That freedom, that power they feel they have. They don't want to lose that and believe all men should have that. You, on the other hand, have a goal; you have a future in mind. One that involves being married, with children." She took a deep breath. "Being the misogynistic pigs they are, they think no friend of theirs could ever want such a domesticated lifestyle."

He nodded. "Pretty sure they've said something along those lines a couple of times.

"No offense." She said with a gentle smile, "But if that's how they're going to treat you and your bride, why are you still friends with them? Why invite them to your wedding at all and give them key roles? Nostalgic reasons aside, if they can't be true friends and support you, why are they still in your life if all they do is make you miserable?"

He grinned at her, "Are you a stripper or a shrink?"

She laughed. "You'd be surprised how often we're both."

"It was either this or dealing with whatever scheme they came up with in desperation." He explained amicably. "Which might have involved kidnapping me."

Mal winced, "Yeah, you chose right to avoid that."

At that moment, his phone rang. Thanks to being away from the music and in the private booth, he heard it and answered it in peace.

"Hey honey," He said with a bright smile that warmed Mal's heart. "Yeah, no, you were right. Kyle did exactly as you said he would. No, I'm actually in a private booth with the leading woman tonight, and she's not half-naked trying to dry hump me. She's keeping a respectable distance." He paused for a moment and looked at Mal, a little worried. "You want to face time with me?. . With both of us?"

"I'm perfectly fine with that." She said, scooting across the couch as he got it up and running. She came to see a blonde-haired woman with a worried expression on her face. "Hi, you must be Cammy."

"You know my name?" Cammy said, looking horrified.

"Only because you're groom here has told me. Otherwise, I would not have known." Mal said carefully not to touch the man in question. "Listen, Cammy, despite Kyle's best efforts, we here at Red Lights have a code; if a person demands a lap dance, we're obligated to give him one. However, in cases such as this, the groom is often taken to a private corner, and nothing happens. We just sit and talk, or don't, and let the outside world think what they want. I can assure you, despite Kyle’s best efforts, if your groom doesn't ask for it, then I won't touch him."

Cammy relaxed visibly and seemed close to tears. "You sound sincere."

Mal smiled softly at her. "Given that I was once where you are, and my groom did the opposite, I don't blame you for your worry. My groom did more than that. His so-called "best friend" was a girl, and despite their assurances, he did sleep with her several times before our wedding. As I said, if they ask for it, I can't say no, but your man has been true to you, and he's a treasure gifted from Heaven, don't let him go."

Cammy smiled with tears running down her cheeks. "Thank you, and I won't." She sniffed and looked back at her groom, who had been too scared to talk. "I promise honey; our first anniversary will be spent at home, with a deep-dish pizza with everything for you and a plain cheese for me. We'll watch a game, or a movie, something, but it will be just us. Hell, I'll even try to play those video games you like so much."

He grinned at her, "Sounds like a plan sweetheart, I love you so much. I can't wait to get married."

Mal watched the couple and smiled brightly, hoping her tears weren't showing too much.

"Sweetheart," the groom glanced at Mal for a moment before looking back at his phone, "About the wedding, she," he gestured to Mal, "asked a good question, and it got me thinking."

He then proceeded to tell Cammy all about his previous conversation with Mal and what he had come to suspect.

"You think Kyle's going to disrupt the wedding?" Cammy clarified.

He nodded.

Cammy grinned viciously. "I might have an idea." She looked at Mal. "Provided you can play along?"

Mal matched her grin. "Color me interested."

~==(oIo)==~

Three hours later, and the club was winding down, meaning cabs were being called for the bachelor party, with the groom the only one left sober, making sure the drivers were paid, and they all got to where they were needed. Kyle, the best man in question, was sober enough to question why his "best friend" was still lucid and not sucking on the pretty stripper's tit. The groom simply grinned, saying he already had the pleasure of that and much more.

Mal merely chuckled at the glee that crossed Kyle's face. She did her best to look stoic when he looked at her hopeful. She shook her head, saying he wasn't the groom. They knew Kyle would tell everyone what the groom "did," unknown to him; however, Cammy and her groom planned for this. The groom would tell Kyle that little tidbit, just to keep Kyle off of him, and tomorrow at the wedding, if Kyle said that to Cammy, she would grin and say she knew, she watched. Everyone else was told to say the same thing if Kyle approached them. They were sure Kyle would be silent, too shocked to say or do anything for the rest of the day.

Mal laughed hysterically after Kyle had been escorted away by the groom, and she found herself alone in her dressing room. A little disappointed that she couldn't wear her top outfit. Whiskey had been dropped on it, along with jello shots. She walked into the bathroom and stripped down before stepping into the shower. Which she had to admit was much better than what she was used to.

Given that she was exhausted, Mal knew she would curl up in bed when she got back to her apartment that the club owned and managed. Her two cats, Nebula and Cosmos, would snuggle in with her, and they would all pass out. Since she splurged and got them an automatic feeder set on a timer for three times a day, she didn't have to worry about feeding them. However, they did appreciate the tuna and the salmon she gave them on occasion.

When she walked back to the dressing room, Ethan was sitting in the chair, and she was grateful she dressed in the bathroom. He looked up at her, his eyes held a bit of longing, but his expression was thoughtful.

"I thought about what you said, and you're right; it's a lot to think about." He said with a careful nod. "Because again, you're right because I had a vision of you pregnant with my child before too long. I had hoped . . ." He shook his head, "But I don't need that to find happiness with you."

"Ethan," She said, crossing her arms, "I . . ."

"Not a good time, I know." He said, standing, causing Mal to bite her lip; that's not where she was going with this. Ethan didn't notice and pushed forward. "We've got time. You work on your divorce, then yourself, and I'll work on the club. We'll revisit this at another time."

Mal wasn't given a chance to answer. He kissed her cheek, and all she could do was watch him walk away again.

With deep, careful breaths, she collected her purse before heading out. In the hallway, the other women were waiting on her, and she sighed exhaustedly.

"What now? Another attack, or are you guys wanting that breakfast place again? While I love you guys, I have to get home to sleep."

"We know." Trina said with a smile, "We wanted to walk you out and congratulate you. You know I never wanted the spotlight. I just dance to pay the bills. I've got a kid to feed, but unlike Stacey, I ain't got no man."

"I know you didn't have anything to do with the former trio being kicked out," Nessie said with a bright grin, her chocolate-colored skin shining in the fluorescent light, "but I'm glad they're gone just the same. And I'm glad you're in charge now. You've been a great person and fun to work with. I hope you get everything you want to tomorrow and keep working here."

Mal grinned as they began to walk. "Of course, I'll keep working here! Where else will I get paid this well and get to dance for a living?"

Their laughter had her leaving with a smile and a bit of energy as she climbed into her car. She thought for a moment something felt a bit off but paid it no mind. She would be home soon. She'd have the vehicle checked out tomorrow after her business was over.

She drove the winding road with ease. She drove up the hill fine, but it went all the way down to the floor when she put her foot to the brake. Going down the hill, the car sped up dangerously. The curve coming up was too soon and too sharp; she did all that she could think, and still, the vehicle flipped and crashed into the river. Her head hit the dashboard, and that was the last thing she felt.

A bright light filled the world behind her eyelids, and she took a testing breath before opening her eyes. Where was she, a kind of private movie theater? Then, she remembered all of her past lives and where she was. Only, instead of it being her irate, pathetic excuse of a guardian angel, there were many other angels in the room, and they had black wings.

"Well, this is new." She couldn't help but chuckle.