Harmony is a spirited young woman navigating the vibrant yet gritty world of a strip club, where she dances to support her dreams amidst the shadows of her past. Following the mysterious disappearance of the original owner, the club is abruptly take...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Torah Dayvon Banks Two Days Later | 05/29/21
Torah sat in his office at the club with the lights off and the blinds drawn halfway. The air smelled like Hennessy, cologne, and sweat, with a hint of vanilla body spray the dancers wore.
It wasn't even noon yet, but the bottle on his desk was already cracked open. Half a glass of dark liquor sat untouched, sweating against the wood.
He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of his mouth, staring at nothing. The silence inside the room was only broken by the muffled bass of music playing out on the main floor and the occasional pop of the old wood creaking under movement. The silence was familiar now. It had become part of him.
The knock on the door came short and impatient.
"Aye, gang, you in hea'?" Durk's voice called before the door even opened.
He pushed the door open and stepped in, his heavy Timberlands hitting the tile like he was trying to stomp a hole through it. Muwop followed behind him, quieter but looking just as irritated, and they both looked tired.
"Man, what the hell is you on?" Durk said, stepping up to the desk. "It's Saturday night comin' and this place still dead like it's Tuesday."
Torah finally looked up, eyes red around the edges. "Ain't nobody told you to come in hea' loud as hell."
"Nah, fuck that." Muwop chimed in, leaning against the wall. "You sittin' in the dark like Bruce Wayne and we losin' money by the hour. You gon' explain or what?"
Torah sat up and reached for the glass, but he didn't drink it. He just held it, turning it in his palm like it had answers. His jaw was tight, and there was a faint bruise on the side of his face from the fight with Harmony. He hadn't looked in a mirror since that night. He didn't want to.
"Y'all actin' like this all on me." He frowned, shaking his head. "But both of y'all know what it is."
Durk scoffed, leaning against the desk. "Yeah, I know exactly what it is. You lost yo damn mind, that's what."
Muwop folded his arms, sighing. "Remy quit. Harmony quit. Clients ain't been comin' in like they used to since. You think folks ain't notice the vibe different in hea'? Dancers barely show up. Ones that do actin' like they waitin' fa a riot."
"They'll come back." Torah replied, sounding tired even to himself.
"They not!" Derrick snapped, knocking the pen holder off the desk. "Not while you sittin' hea' sulkin' like a damn ghost. You done messed shit up with the only two girls in this spot that actually brought somethin' real."
Torah slammed the glass down, causing the liquor to spill over the edge and drip onto the desk. "I ain't ask y'all niggas to come in hea' preachin'."
"Too bad. You gon' sit hea' all summer and rot or you gon' fix it?" Muwop waved him off, walking toward the desk.
