Page 39 of The Bad Girl

Chapter 15

Nadine

All my life, I’ve been a worrier. It’s one of the reasons I’ve take so few risks. I assess every situation, making a logical decision above all else.

Even that ill-fated night with Tom was done after careful, logical analysis of the situation. I reasoned that it was improbable that there would ever be anything substantial between us, but that I’d never regret having him as my first. All of my other girlfriends lost their virginity to boys that ended up being nothing more than a footnote in their high school history. I wanted more than that.

I wanted Tom, who I had been crushing on for a good four years before I approached him. He could never be a mistake.

Anyway, as I said, I’m a worrier. And right now, the thing I’m worried about the most is my mother and father. Not even Granger’s incessant meowing can distract me from the torturous scenes that are unfolding in my imagination.

I have five tabs open on my laptop, each displaying top-notch cancer treatment centers if it comes to that, which I’m praying it doesn’t.

This is all because…I’m a worrier.

A knock sounds on my door. I’m not expecting anyone, so I sit there, hoping whoever it is will go away.

My phone buzzes with an incoming text from Stacey.

Stacey:Answer your door!

Dammit!

I’m in no condition to entertain anyone, and as much as I enjoyed my day with Stacey, her chaos tents to needle my anxiety.

Without a better option, I close my laptop and went to greet her.

Stacey is standing there wearing short shorts, fishnets, and teeny, tiny bra top carrying two large bags.

“What is this?”

“Come on, let’s get you dressed!”

I run my fingers through my hair, confused as all hell and just wishing she’d go away. “Get me dressed? What?”

“The club ain’t gonna come here, so hurry on up.”

“You want to take me to a nightclub? I’m sorry, but I don’t think—”

“No, Nadine, not a nightclub—a strip club.”

She can’t be serious.

“It’s eight o’clock on a Tuesday, and I have work tomorrow.”

“Bad girls don’t give a fuck about how late it is, now let’s get you dressed.”

“Why would I ever want to go…to a strip club?”

“It’s like a Mecca for bad girls, hurry up, you don’t have a choice.”

I think about putting up a fight, but the truth is, if I don’t go, I’ll be up all night Googling cancer centers, and eventually, funeral homes.

You know what, I’m going to do this. Yep, I’m gonna go out to the strip club.

?

Maxwell