Claire looked out from the stage. She felt like she’d slipped on someone else’s skin . . . someone else’s life entirely. Kimmy grabbed the pole and did one of the moves she’d taught Claire, a super-low dip that Claire had never been able to get right. Maybe it was the setting, or the pole, or the extreme confidence that washed over her, but as she tried it this time she was able to replicate Kimmy’s move exactly. And it felt powerful. She felt powerful.
As Claire twirled around the stage to the thumping music, she got lost in a trance of happiness. Kimmy was right—dancing up there on that stage was an adrenaline rush. Kind of like that time when she was performing on the Toulouse High dance squad at the senior pep rally and caught Gavin staring at her from the bleachers. His eyebrows were raised the entire time. They’d been dating for a few months, but it was the first time he’d looked at her like that. Gavin would later tell her that there was just something about her that day that was different. Maybe it was the glitter eye shadow, he joked. Or the way she kept shaking her hips right at him . . .
But Claire knew it wasn’t just her looks. It had been her confidence. Her happiness. Standing up there on that stage at The Saddle, dancing and feeling free, she’d finally recaptured that confident feeling. She laughed and dipped on the pole and spun around it.
After a moment, Claire realized the other two girls had stopped dancing. She raked her hair out of her eyes. “Why’d y’all stop?” she asked.
Kimmy nodded her head into the audience, her lips in a tight, flat line.
The door to the strip club was propped open, the sunlight streaming in. A team of three police officers stood in the middle of the room, talking gruffly to the owner, and periodically glanced up at the three women onstage.
Claire leaned against the pole for support, her knees suddenly weak as one of the officers shoved the owner against a table and handcuffed the man.
“Oh my gosh,” Claire murmured, her hand over her mouth. Kimmy stepped back, her eyes wide. She reached out and squeezed Claire’s hand. Behind her, the two other officers headed toward them. Claire’s heart started racing.
The officers stopped at the foot of the stage, glaring up at the women. “We need to take y’all down to the station,” said the one with the mustache. “Please come with us.”
? ? ?
THE ROUND WALL clock ticked slowly as the hands reached eight. Claire’s heart continued to race, as it had been doing for the two hours she’d been there. They had taken away her cell phone and put her in a room by herself so she couldn’t talk to Kimmy or anyone else in the group. An officer had told her something about a drug ring at The Saddle and that he needed to ask everyone there some questions.
Finally, the door opened and a stout cop came in, staring at a folder. A name tag over his breast pocket read MARSHALL. “Claire Thibodeaux?” he asked, then looked up. “Hey, wait a second—aren’t you Gavin Thibodeaux’s wife?” He stared at her with wide eyes.
“Uh, yeah,” she said, putting her hand on her forehead. “This is all one big misunderstanding.”
“Well, I can’t wait to hear it.” Officer Marshall stroked his beard and grinned. “What’s a preacher’s wife like yourself doin’ at a strip club?”
Claire blushed. This was humiliating. “I can explain everything,” she said, fidgeting with her wedding band. “One of the strippers—Kimmy—I was tryin’ to help her.” She swallowed. “She wanted to get out of stripping.”
He shuffled through some papers. “But it says here you were dancing onstage?” He looked up. “Can you explain that?” He grinned again, like he was getting some kind of enjoyment out of this interview.
She gestured to her workout clothes. Gray yoga pants, an orange tank top, and dirty hot pink Nikes. “Do you really think I was stripping, Officer Marshall?”
He laughed. “No, no. Of course not. So, do you know the owner, Jonny Bernard?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Has anyone tried to sell you drugs while you were there at any time?” He clicked his pen.
She frowned. “No.”
“This Kimmy girl that you were helping . . . did she ever talk about drugs or give you any indication she was a part of a drug business?”
“No. Was she a part of it?” Her heart sank at the thought of Kimmy lying to her this whole time.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Not sure. That’s why I’m asking you.”
Claire shook her head again. “I don’t think Kimmy was aware. And either way, she was planning to quit soon. She had an idea for a new business, and I was helping her put it together.”
“Well, that’s awfully nice of you,” Officer Marshall said. “Was it a drug business?” he asked, his lips twitching.
“Goodness no!” Claire put her hand on her heart.
“I’m jus’ givin’ ya a hard time, Mrs. Thibodeaux.” He chuckled. “Go on, call your husband. He can come pick you up now. You’re clear.”
Claire closed her eyes for a second and thanked God for getting out of this mess. When she opened them, Officer Marshall was handing her the phone on his desk. She gulped. Gavin was going to find out sooner or later. Might as well get it over with now, she thought.
She picked up the clunky black receiver, and punched in the numbers, her hands shaking.
“This is Gavin.” His voice sounded so professional and serious on the other end, probably because he didn’t recognize the number.
“Hey,” she said nervously. “It’s Claire. Don’t freak out, but I need you to pick me up from the police station.”
“What happened?” His voice got louder, panicked. “Are you okay?”
“I’m totally fine,” she said, trying to sound calm. “Will you just come and get me, and I’ll explain everything in the car?” She could only imagine what was going through Gavin’s head.
“I’m on my way,” he said.
She hung up and gathered her phone and purse from the front desk before walking outside with her head down. She spotted Kimmy sitting on a wrought iron bench in front of the station. The sun had already set, and the old streetlamps in the parking lot were on.
“Oh my god,” Kimmy said, standing up and hugging Claire. “You’re out. I’m so sorry about this. I feel like it’s all my fault. I had no idea Mr. Bernard was doing that kind of stuff, I swear, Claire.” She pulled out a packet of cigarettes from her bag. “Are you okay?”
Claire shook her head slowly, thinking about everything that had just happened—it had been an emotional few hours to say the least. And soon, Gavin would be there, and she’d have to explain everything. She sat down on the bench and put her head in her hands. The scent of Kimmy’s cigarette smoke engulfed her.
What am I doing? Claire asked herself. As much as she enjoyed spending time with Kimmy, it had been one big distraction from what she needed to do: talk to Gavin. Even though things had improved with him, she still had never confronted him about the fact that he was going to a strip club and lying to her about it. And look where all of this denial had gotten her. Their marriage wasn’t fixed. It simply had a Band-Aid on it.
“Claire?” Kimmy asked, sitting down next to her. “Are you okay?” she asked again.