I opened my mouth, took a deep breath, and attempted to speak—but I looked straight at the gun being pointed toward my face, and I froze. Perhaps today was not the day to be some kind of martyr who dies on the stiletto cross to save the strippers.

“Alright guys,” Tony said. “You caught me. Took you long enough, assholes. But guess what? I resigned as the manager a couple of weeks ago. I’m just here hanging out! You know, just a customer, looking for some new customers for my drug business. Too bad none of my old friends here wanted to buy any drugs. I guess I’ll have to hit up Pumps in Queens instead. The ladies there are a little more rough around the edges.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, Tony?” the officer said. Apparently, they were old pals.

“I said, I’m not the manager here anymore, so none of the girls are an accomplice to anything.” His tone was firm. “Take me down to the station, I’ve still got a cell with my name on it.”

“If you’re not the manager, then who is?” the officer asked. Tony turned to Brandi.

“I am, officer,” Brandi said.

“What?” The officer seemed genuinely confused by this turn of events.

“Yes. I’m the manager here. And I’d like this drug-dealing piece of shit out of my club,” Brandi said.

To go back and see Naomi try to flirt with Officer Johnson, turn to page 75.

To continue with Naomi in this fantasy, turn to page 79.