Chapter 1
Hadley
The bass thumped so hard it lived inside my ribs.
I could feel it more than hear it sometimes, like my heart had decided to sync up and forget it was supposed to beat on its own.
Stage lights sliced through the smoke, red, purple, electric blue, catching on the sequins stitched into my bra top, making me glitter whether I wanted to or not.
I didn't. Not tonight. Not any night, really. But glitter paid the bills.
I rolled my hips slowly, deliberately letting the rhythm pull me instead of fighting it.
Arms up, wrists crossed, then down again, fingers trailing the air like I was touching something that wasn't there.
Men always thought it was for them. It wasn't. It was math.
Angle of hips plus tilt of head plus the exact second I let my eyes meet theirs equals bigger tips. Simple.
A guy in a too-tight polo, mid-forties, wedding ring tan line glowing under the blacklight, leaned over the edge of the stage, waving a folded hundred like it was a flag of surrender.
His friends hooted behind him. I dropped to my knees in front of him, close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath and the cheap cologne he'd drowned himself in.
I arched my back, let my hair fall like a curtain, gave him the slow smile I'd practiced in cracked motel mirrors when I was sixteen.
"Goddamn, baby," he slurred, tucking the bill into the waistband of my shorts. His fingers lingered, brushing skin that wasn't covered by sequins or fishnets. I caught his wrist, gentle, always gentle at first, and guided his hand back to the rail.
"Eyes only, handsome," I said, voice low enough that only he could hear it over the music. "House rules."
He laughed like I'd told a joke. His thumb grazed my hip again anyway.
I stood up smoothly, spun away, and let another dancer, Jade tonight, slide in and take the attention. She was newer, hungrier. She'd let him touch longer. I didn't judge her for it. We all had different lines.
Another song bled into the next. I moved to the pole at the center of the main stage, wrapped one leg around the cool metal, climbed halfway, then dropped into a slow spiral.
Hair whipped across my face. The crowd roared.
Bills rained onto the platform, ones, fives, twenties; a couple of hundreds, if I was lucky.
I never looked down to count while I was up there.
Counting broke the spell, and the spell was the only thing keeping me from feeling every hand that had ever tried to grab.
By the time my set ended, my thighs burned and my lower back ached in that familiar dull way that meant I'd pushed too hard again. I scooped what I could into my garter, nodded to security, Big Mike tonight, always Big Mike on Fridays, and slipped backstage.
The hallway smelled like sweat, baby oil, and the faint chemical sweetness of vape clouds. Girls laughed in the dressing room, voices high and sharp from adrenaline and whatever they'd taken to keep smiling. I didn't join them. I never did.
I changed fast, wiped glitter off with baby wipes until my skin felt raw, pulled on my leggings, an oversized hoodie, and sneakers that had seen better years; my real clothes. The ones that made me invisible again.
I was shoving tips into my backpack when Zariah burst through the door like she owned the place, which, in a way, she kind of did. She'd been here longer than me, knew every manager's weak spot, every DJ's playlist preference…she also knew mine.
"Hadley Jackson," she sang, dragging out the syllables. "You look like someone just told you the bar ran out of tequila."
I zipped my bag. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're doing that thing where your mouth goes flat, and you stop blinking." She leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, sequined bralette still on because she never changed until the very last second. "Come on. Talk to me."
"Nothing to talk about." I slung the bag over my shoulder. "Long night. That's all."
"Bullshit." She pushed off the lockers, stepped right into my path. "You've been dodging me for three weeks. Every time I say, 'let's grab food after,' you've got some excuse about your brother. I get it, okay? I do. But tonight? Tonight, you're coming with me."
I raised an eyebrow. "To where?"
"The festival. Tomorrow night. Embers are headlining."
I almost laughed. "The Embers? That boy band your thirteen-year-old cousin screams about?"
"They're not just a boy band anymore, Had. They're, like... cultural. Girls lose their minds. Cal Parker could sneeze and it'd trend for a week."
"I don't care if Cal Parker cures cancer. I'm not going to a concert."
"Why not?"
"Because I have responsibilities, Z. You know that."
She softened, just a little. "I know. But listen, your brother's not gonna die if you take one night for yourself. You're twenty. You're allowed to breathe."
I looked away. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, harsh on her face. She wasn't wrong; she was never about this part. But wrong or right didn't change facts.
"Zariah..."
"I already got us passes. Backstage ones. Holland knows I'm coming. We grew up on the same block, remember? He texted me yesterday. Said it's gonna be insane."
I stared at her. "You've been plotting this."
"Damn right I have. Because you're disappearing, Hadley. Every shift you come in looking more tired than the last. You smile for the customers, you smile for me, but it's the same smile. Fake as hell. You need something that's just yours."
I rubbed my temple. Headache starting behind my eyes. "I can't afford tickets. Even if I wanted to."
"You don't have to. I covered it. Birthday present. Early."
"My birthday's in July."
"Consider it an advance." She grabbed my hands, squeezed.
"Please. One night. No dancing, no grabbing hands, no pretending.
Just music. Loud music. And maybe a drink or two.
You used to love music, Had. Remember? Before everything went to shit, you used to blast that old CD player in your room and dance like nobody was watching. "
I remembered. God, I remembered.
"I don't know..."
"One night," she pressed. "If it sucks, we leave early. I'll even drive you home myself so you don't have to take the bus at three a.m."
I looked at her, really looked. Her eyes were bright, hopeful, a little scared I'd say no again. Zariah didn't ask for much. Not from me. She gave more than she took, always had.
I sighed. Long. Defeated. "Fine."
Her face split into a grin so wide it looked painful. "Yes! Oh my God, yes. You won't regret it. I swear."
"I already do."
She laughed, punched my arm lightly. "Liar. Tomorrow, at seven. I'll pick you up. Wear something cute. Not club cute, normal cute."
"I don't own normal cute."
"Then borrow mine. I got you." She hugged me quick, perfume and hairspray and relief. "Thank you. Seriously."
"Yeah, yeah." I hugged back anyway. "Don't make me regret this."
"Never."
I left her there, still buzzing, while I pushed through the back door into the alley.
The desert air hit me like a slap, cooler than inside, dry enough to crack my lips.
I pulled my hood up, walked fast past the smokers clustered near the dumpster, past the valets flirting with the cocktail girls.
My bus stop was three blocks away. I kept my head down, hands in pockets, counting the bills in my mind.
Enough for rent if I stretched it. Enough for Eli's new meds if the pharmacy didn't hike the price again. Not enough for anything else.
The bus was late. Always was on Fridays. I sat on the curb, backpack between my feet, and stared at the neon sign across the street flickering "Girls Girls Girls." It felt like a joke aimed right at me.
When the bus finally screeched to a stop, I climbed on, paid with crumpled ones, found a seat in the back.
The ride was quiet. Most people were drunk or exhausted or both.
I leaned my head against the window, watched the city smear past, casinos, pawn shops, wedding chapels with heart-shaped signs.
Vegas never slept. Neither did I, most nights.
My stop came too soon. I got off, crossed the cracked parking lot of the apartment complex, climbed three flights of stairs that smelled like curry and mildew. Key in the lock. Quiet turn. Door creaked open.
The living room light was on low. Eli was curled on the couch under the quilt I'd bought at a thrift store two years ago, blue with little stars, his favorite.
He didn't look up right away. He was focused on the tablet propped on his knees, earbuds in, watching one of his train videos.
The same one he'd watched a hundred times. Maybe more.
I set my bag down soft. "Hey, buddy."
His head jerked up. Eyes wide behind his glasses. "Hadley!"
He scrambled off the couch, quilt dragging behind him like a cape. I dropped to one knee so he could crash into me. Arms tight around my neck. He smelled like shampoo and the peanut butter sandwich he'd probably had for dinner.
"You're home," he said into my shoulder. Voice muffled.
"Yeah. I'm home." I hugged him back, careful not to squeeze too hard. He didn't always like pressure. But tonight, he did.
He pulled back, studied my face. "You smell like glitter."
I laughed, real, surprised. "Yeah. Work was sparkly tonight."
He nodded seriously. "Glitter is messy. But pretty."
"Sometimes." I stood, offered my hand. "You finish homework?"
"Most. Math is stupid."
"Math is stupid," I agreed. "Show me what's left."
He tugged me to the tiny kitchen table...card table, really, one leg wobbly. His notebook was open, pencil marks heavy where he'd pressed too hard. Fractions. He hated fractions.
I sat next to him. "Okay. Walk me through it."
He sighed, dramatic. "One-half plus one-third. Mrs. Carter says find the common denominator."
"Right. What's the lowest common denominator for two and three?"
"Six."
"Good. So one-half is three-sixths. One-third is two-sixths. Three plus two?"
"Five."
"Five-sixths. See? You got it."
He stared at the paper like it had personally offended him. "Why can't numbers just stay the same?"
"Because then life would be boring."
He snorted. "Life is already boring."
I ruffled his hair. "Not with you in it."
He ducked away, but he was smiling. Small. Secret.
We finished the last three problems. He yawned halfway through the third. I closed the notebook.
"Bedtime, kid."
"But the trains...."
"Trains tomorrow. Promise."
He dragged his feet to the bedroom, our bedroom, really. One bed, one mattress on the floor for me when he needed space. I helped him brush his teeth, tucked him under the covers, turned on the little star projector that threw constellations across the ceiling. He watched them spin slow.
"Hadley?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you going somewhere tomorrow?"
I hesitated. "Maybe. With Zariah. Just for a little while."
He frowned. "Concert?"
"How'd you know?"
"Zariah texted me. Said you said yes."
I laughed under my breath. "She's sneaky."
"Don't go."
My chest tightened. "I'll be back before you wake up. Mara's coming to stay with you."
He pulled the blanket higher. "I don't like when you're gone."
"I know." I sat on the edge of the bed, brushed his bangs back. "But I need to try something new. Just once. Okay?"
He didn't answer right away. Just watched the stars turn.
"Okay," he said finally. Quiet. "But come back fast."
"I will."
I leaned down, kissed his forehead. "Love you, Eli."
"Love you more."
I stayed until his breathing evened out. Until the projector clicked off on its timer. Until the room was dark except for the streetlight sneaking through the blinds.
I slipped into the living room, sat on the couch still warm from him. Pulled my knees up. Stared at the wall.
One night.
Just one.
I told myself it wouldn't change anything.
But deep down, way deep, where I didn't like to look, I already knew I was lying.