James Martin, a bouncer at Club Apocalypse, falls for a stripper. She is not what he expected. Short story, suspense, thriller
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James rolled into his townhouse in the light of day after pulling an all-nighter. Since dropping out of college, his social life revolved around drugs, booze, and bimbos. At twenty-two years old, he thought he was living a rock-n-roll fantasy. The time on the clock brought him back to reality. Sleep would have to wait. His shift began at four.
James worked at Club Apocalypse, Houston’s leading stripclub, for five months. His official title was head bouncer. The bar could be rough, but his hulking stature was enough to detour potential trouble-makers.
As part of the club’s promotion, Wayne, the owner, insisted his staff dress up in different themes throughout the last week of October. Tonight was zombie night. James took a quick shower then applied white and green pancake sticks to his face and neck. He drew black circles around his eyes, looking more clownish than horrific. His costume was not original, but the effort was there. A dap of fake blood was smeared over his mouth for a more gruesome effect.
James took a costume break and dumped the rest of his cocaine onto his bathroom counter. He rolled up a dollar bill, the remains of his cash, and snarfed it up. His blue eyes brightened. The rush from the blow staved off his exhaustion. He hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours and had to make it through a ten hour shift.
