I watched his face, delicate features awash with consternation and contemplation. Much as I’d have liked to explain my dark predicament to him, my voice remained locked away with my soul, sentenced to the edge of existence. My body laughed derisively as the view swung back to Ginger, the one stripper who hadn’t yet flat refused me.

“Hey Billy,” he tried again, tugging the view back towards him, his voice gentler now, entreating, “C’mon now, let’s get gone, ya hear. No more fun to be had here, right, all stern looks and the like. You want fun, don’t ya, Billy?”

He knew, bless his pure heart, he knew. That son of a gun knew darn well I hadn’t wanted fun a day in my life, only break enough in the misery to breathe. First thing I’d really felt since losing control swept over me, over what was left of my soul, a fresh coat of panic. One way or the other, this whole situation was not going to end well.

“C’mon, Billy,” my brother said, all sweet and innocent-like, “I know a place, a real fun place.”