Chapter 10

Glitter and neon painted shadows across Julian's face, turning his features into a kaleidoscope of pink and blue bruises. The bass thrummed through his chest like a second heartbeat, a relentless pulse that matched the rhythm of his self-loathing. Scarlett's was Miami's premium strip club, where desperate men came to forget and beautiful women pretended to care why. Smoke swirled through laser beams, creating ghostly dancers in the air. The main stage pulsed with light, three poles reaching toward a mirrored ceiling that reflected everything below – the writhing bodies, the hungry stares, the empty wallets. Designer suits mixed with college boys, all of them clutching overpriced drinks and underwhelming dreams. The air tasted like perfume and broken promises, thick with the scent of vanilla body spray and spilled champagne. Music vibrated through the floor, up through his feet, rattling his bones and what was left of his dignity. This was rock bottom's finishing school, whe