Tonight was different. A man in an oyster-gray suit sat alone in the VIP booth, nursing a single malt. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the stage, but he wasn’t watching the girls. He was watching the sightlines, the exits, the way Lana’s hand never strayed far from the panic button under the bar.
The bass dropped. The neon hummed. And Lana realized her past had just walked in the door, wearing an oyster-gray suit and holding all the answers she’d tried to bury. lana part 1 lana rhoades
Lana’s pulse didn’t change. She’d learned that trick in another life. “She’s dead,” Lana said. Tonight was different