Chapter 7
HEATH
Saturday night
Saturday night is a night for sin.
It’s a night made for mistakes. Drunken or otherwise. And I’m realizing I’m making just that as I stroll into the Strip-emporium on the corner of Corinth and Lexington.
The music is blaring, a stream of laser lights scanning the expanse of the dark carpeted floor. The screaming sounds of Def Leppard lyrics drum overhead, searing into my subconscious and as I pass by Walter, the meathead bartender, my eyes skim over the blonde dancer swinging around the shiny metal pole in the center of the club, her long legs capturing the looks of every man within a hundred feet.
Every eye…except mine.
My eyes are stuck on the far side of the strip club, and I bypass the drooling onlookers in favor of the small curtained area just be
