Victoria sighed softly as she slipped into a chair outside of the main cafe. She was so tired... Working two jobs... Taking care of the apartment, her boyfriend and his friends. It was challenging. And well, she didn't ever think she'd be... She be in such a miserable situation.

Her head lay on the little metal table next to her coffee cup.

She hadn't ever imagined being alone in a big city... With a boyfriend who wasn't really in love with her... A stripper at night, a waitress by day... Maybe four hours of sleep. Her long black hair was pulled back into a messy bun at the top of her head, her grey eyes dull and lifeless.

Ever since she saw the flier for The Nutcracker... She'd been thinking more and more about how her life had just been turned down some dark alley... And she never knew where it was going. She didn't know where she was going to be tomorrow. And there were times... She didn't want to know. She was afraid to know.

Lynch stared at the restaurant. The Petit Paris, he thought, adding a snotty French accent to himself. Yeah, well, he'd once been the kinda guy to go to snotty French restaurants. He'd had the money and the poise and whatever the hell it was you were supposed to have.

He sucked on his Pepsi, wishing dearly that it was sour mash instead. But no. He had to be at work in a couple of hours. Can't serve chopped steak with whiskey breath.

Goddammit!

He'd been someone once! He'd had a life and a good job and he'd fought, hadn't he? He'd clawed his way up from a factory worker's son to be a psychologist and now he was standing outside a goddamn French restaurant thinking dirty thoughts about it. Lynch suddenly wanted to hurl the stupid plastic bottle of the stupid Pepsi at the wall.

Hed been someone. Once.

Lynch sucked on the bottle again, barely notcing as a girl, woman actually, came out of the restaurant and laid her head on the table. He did notice when her head came down to rest by the side of her coffee cup.

Wow, she didn't look healthy. "You okay?" Lynch called, a little more roughly than he'd intended. He winced.

She hesitated for a moment as she heard the man call out to someone, after all, who cared about her? But when no one answered she lifted her head, the front of her apron visible with the restaurant's logo. "Oh... Yeah." She said with a smile, the one that she had learned over the past few years, the one that kept people from asking too many questions.

"Just a bit tired. That's all. I wouldn't ever go to work sick." She said as she shook her head. Well, she would, but she wouldn't let anyone else know that she was sick of course.

"Is there anything I can get you Sir?" She asked politely. She wouldn't mind going back to work. After all, she didn't need time to think. Yeah, that was the last thing she needed.

A fellow food-service worker, Lynch thought to himself as he saw the Petit Paris logo on the girl's apron. And the thought wasn't a little bitter. "Yeah. That would suck," he muttered, dropping into a chair across from Victoria and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

He didn't use to smoke, save for the celebratory cigar every once in a while. He hadn't used to drink as much as he did now either. Then again, he'd also lived in a much nicer apartment too. And, oh yeah, he'd made more money.

Lynch yanked a cigarette out, lit it with a cheap Bic lighter. He lifted the bottle of Pepsi. "Nah, I'm good." Blowing out a ring of smoke, he stared at the red tip of the cigarette. "Gotta go to work myself soon. Besides, ain't no way in hell I could afford anything here."

Her smile faltered only slightly as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. One would have thought it hadn't happened at all, with how quick her smile was back. She hated smoking... She was around it all the time and it always reminded her of the club or going to her apartment. Smoke of all kinds hung around in the air, sometimes even making her nauseous. But in the open air it wouldn't be too bad.

"Yeah... I understand that much." She said, her smile turning slightly sad as he spoke of not being able to afford eating here. "I get free coffee and half priced food... That's the only reason why I eat here... Otherwise I wouldn't be able to afford it either." She admitted. After all, they seemed to be alike... He worked in food service too, but something told her he didn't want to be there.

"But it's the only semi-respectable job I could find... And it's my fault really... Kinda... Messed my life up.." She looked down at her coffee cup, ignoring the scent of smoke.

Not noticing her smile flinch when he pulled out his cigarettes, Lynch blew an angry stream of smoke out and watched it swirl. Rubbed his chin, felt the prickles of hair. Need to shave, he thought dully. Funny how that kinda thing fell on the wayside.

"Wonder how I'd look with a beard..." Lynch muttered to himself, rubbing some more. Snapping back, he looked up at the girl, tapping ash into an Styrofoam cup he nabbed from a table next to them. "Half off, huh? Good deal. I get free drinks, which is good because they jack the damn price for pop up a hundredfold. You know how cheap Pepsi syrup is?" Lynch asked rhetorically, taking another drag.

Lynch shook his head. "Anyway. Free pop and twenty-five percent off food. I eat a lot of daily specials. Costs me about three-fifty," he shrugged, and somehow managed to look bitter with that little movement.

Glancing at the girl again, his eyes were a flinty sort of bitter. "I had my life messed up for me. I had something once..." The scrufty guy studied Victoria curiously. "Did you try? To screw your life up?" Uh-oh, jobless psychologist alert!

"If they didn't jack up the prices, they wouldn't make money, which is of course the point of a business." She said with a smile. "But yeah... Drinks are really cheap. Well unless it's wine. But then again, even we bump the price up by... What was it? Thirteen-point-five percent even before tax." She said with a shrug.

Victoria sipped at her coffee and gave a soft sigh.

So... He knew what it was like too?

"Well... I... I was young... Stupid really." She said quietly, not looking up from her cup. "I didn't like going to school, because all the kids would pick on me. So... I didn't go... I almost flunked out of school... And things just went downhill from there... I always told myself, I didn't have to go to school to be a ballerina. I just wanted to dance..." She shook erh head though as she fell silent.

"I'm sorry... You probably didn't want to hear all of that." She gave a sad smile. He had asked of course... But he probably didn't really care..

Lynch tapped more ash into the cup. The cigarette was nearly burnt down to his fingers. On a muffled sigh, he dropped it into the cup as well, where it smoldered weakly. He considered pulling out another, but decided against it and drank some more of his Pepsi instead.

"I asked, didn't I?" Lynch asked, almost irritated. It was annoying when people were apologizing for crap they didn't need to apologize for. And the man wasn't the type to ask a question if he wasn't planning on listening to the answer. "A ballerinna, eh?" Ballet, Lynch held back a shudder. Girls in froofy little costumes was fine, but the men in spandex with their big ass packages bouncing around?

Not his cuppa tea.

Lynch studied her, toying with the cup to keep his hands busy. "Were you really good at it, or was it just something you wanted?" he asked curiously. He'd loved football, but he was too slow to compete above the high school level. The sport was getting bigger and faster all the time. God, the players were practically mutants nowadays.

It was almost depressing...

"Yeah..." Victoria said with a sheepish smile as he questioned her dream. Of course it sounded stupid, every girl wanted to be a ballerina.

"Oh... I was a good dancer..." And she still kinda was. Not the same style... But... "I had several years of lessons... But then my parents couldn't afford it anymore and none of the schools around me offered scholarships. So I had to stop lessons... I would practice on my own, but it just wasn't the same." She said, her smile growing sad again.

"I know a lot of girls always say they want to be a ballerina, but I really did. Ever since I was little, and even to this day I wish I still could be. But any studio would say I was too old. I've asked around. Even though I still have all the basic skills, and I know a lot of other things, I'm to old. Besides, I still wouldn't be able to afford lessons anyway. Rent's to expensive here, and even working two jobs, I barely keep my head above the water. But I'm sure you know the feeling."

Yeah, he knew the feeling.

And with that thought, Lynch felt himself spiraling back down into his depression. It was depression. He had been a psychologist, he ought to know. Hell, Lynch thought, he'd been a damn good psychologist so he definitely ought to know.

Fuck, don't go there again. Your mood was just mellowing it, boy.

"Money. When you've got it, people fall all over themselves to give you all sorts of shit. When you don't they're jacking up the rent and quibbling over paying you minimum wage," Lynch said acidly, toasting the world with the nasty, ashy coffee cup.

Lowering it again, he chucked it towards the trash can, mildly surprised when it sailed neatly in. Ha, funny. "So, you work here and elsewhere, eh? Is your second job any better than food service?" Lynch needed a second job, or find something better than what he had. Soemthing more than a stopgap. Maybe construction or something...

That company, they had some manufacturing jobs, didn't they?

"No, it's not..." She said quickly as he asked about her other job. She wished she didn't have to do it... But it was the only choice she had, the only option that had been available. And well, Jason had basically made her work there... She'd never forget the argument and fight that had followed...

It nearly made her tear up just thinking about it actually, and she shook her head. "It's no place you'd want to work really. You seem to nice of a guy." All they had were security positions, and she doubted he was the type to venture into sleezy strip clubs.

"Anyway... I should probably be getting back to work..." She said as she stood up. "It was nice talking to you though. I'm sorry if I wasn't the best for conversation though." Victoria gave an apologetic smile. She didn't want to leave really, but if he learned too much more about her... He'd just look at her the way everyone else did.

After all, the snooty waiters and waitresses didn't want to talk to the stripper, why would he?

Lynch wasn't an idiot. Or he didn't think he was. He backed off fast at how the girl reacted to his question about her second job. But he barked out a laugh at her comment that he seemed like a nice guy. "Maybe. Maybe too nice or not enough," Lynch said, desperately wishing for another cigarette.

Still, like he'd been thinking, he wasn't an idiot. Whatever she did for her second job, it obviously wasn't something you bragged about. In fact, she didn't even want to talk about it. He was a trained psychologist. Well, he had been. Lynch could put two and two together. Which put two occupations in mind immediately: stripping or hooking. Or both.

Unless he was getting five here.

Lynch probably would have had the typical nose in the air reaction at working that one out when he'd still had his job. Not anymore. Hell, he'd thought about selling the Ritalin he'd had from his days as a school counselor to get money. You did what you could.

Leaning back a little he waved off her comment on the conversation. Hell, he was just happy to talk to someone. Lynch's life sucked.

"Here," he said on sudden impulse, yanking a napkin out and scribbling on it, "drop by Sammy's Place." Lynch leaned forward as if imparting a secret. "I'll let you buy on my discount." Following her lead, the ex-counselor stood up. "Stay away from the peach pie, they aren't real peaches. But the pecans are real."

He knew... Something in the way he looked at her told her that he knew things that she hadn't really told him.

"You're not just a food server... Are you?" She said with a soft smile as she tucked the napkin in her apron. His eyes seemed to be more intelligent than most people in this

"But... What ever you're thinking... I... I'm sure it's right, or at least close to being right." Did he really figure out what she was? Why she didn't want to talk about her other job. "But... It's not because I want to though. I... I love to dance, that's all."

Maybe... Maybe she'd stop by when he was working... See if he could talk a bit. He was someone who didn't mind listening. One who actually... Might want to help her.

"I... I'm Victoria by the way." She said with a soft smile. "You can usually find me here during the day after ten until about eight." She of course worked at Connie's at night. Not many went to a strip club during the day after all. "It's been nice talking to you though. I hope I'll see you again sometime."

One Week Later

"Come on Lynchie-boy. You're such a fucking prude."

"Yeah, Lynch. We're all going. Just gonna blow off some steam. B'sides, they got some of the cheapest whiskey in town."

Lynch frowned at Jack and Denny. "Yeah, and it probably gives you ulcers with one sip," he groused in return, shoving his arms into his ancient jacket.

Jack punched him in the shoulder playfully. "Hell, that's half the fun, Lynch-o. We'll see who can drink the most without puking. Or falling down. Hey, if Denny here ends up upside down, you can help me pour the sour mash down his throat."

Denny laughed at that. "Oh, please. I can drink you under the table and back out again, little boy."

Once again, Lynch had his shoulder punched by Jack. "Look, guys, I'm tired. You know? Tired? And my mornings already suck. I don't wanna be getting up tomorrow with the fanged mother of all hangovers."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Sure. Hey, I've got an idea, Lynch. How about we go to All the Queen's Men instead? Maybe they're more your type..."

"I'm not fucking gay!" Lynch snarled.

"Prove it."

And this is how reasonably sane men who just wanna go home and have a quiet beer and watch the good ol' idiot box end up in titty bars at midnight, Lynch thought to himself as Jack pushed the door to Connie's open.

With a soft sigh Vicky, as she was called here, made her way down the back stage steps. She'd just finished dancing a few moments ago, and was now off to do waitress duty. Her feet were killing her, as she'd been at her other job all day.

Her glasses gone, her black hair down in large curls that fell all around her face, she was indeed a beauty.

She wore a pair of black lace boy-short panties and one of those half sweater type tops that was tied just right to lift her breasts so they looked as if they would fall out at the slightest provocation.

As Victoria moved through the curtain to the main bar area, she saw a group of three men sitting down, and no waitress had approached them yet. Good. Here it was take what you could get, and she needed the money. Jason had stupidly spent the only money for grocerys they had on pot... Smart move.

"Hey boys." She grinned as she leaned in the table. "Welcome to Connie's, I'm Vicky and I'll be ta- Taking care of you." Her smile faltered slightly as she recognized one of the men. The guy she had been talking too at work about a week ago. "So what can I get you boys for tonight?"

Jack and Denny immediately lost about ninety-five percent of their brain cells just walking into the place. Since his cells were more or less intact, Lynch watched with interest as their tongues all but fell out of their heads at the sight of long female legs and generous bustlines.

Lynch looked around a little, mostly disinterested. Tits and pins were all well and good but none of them were going home with him. Not that he even wanted them to. Nope, Lynch was still thinking of his nice cold six pack and the patient television sitting in his apartment.

And didn't he sound like a n old fogy?

The trio took a seat, random comments along the lines of "get a load of that" and "check out those babies" issuing from his companions. But they hadn't been sitting long when one of the waitresses made her way over.

"Hey baby, I'll let you take care of me any day," Jack replied, all but licking his lips as his eyes scanned Victoria from around the collarbone on down.

Lynch, on the other hand, started from the torture devices they called high heels and worked his way up. Nice legs, he thought halfheartedly, taking in the barely there lace panties, bare stomach, and overflowing bosom. "Whiskey, neat." Lynch's libido took an obligatory peek, but went right back to sleep once he got to the face. It took him a second but he knew that face. "Shit."

Well, this was awkward.

She gave the man who spoke an obligatory wink.

But she didn't get any of their orders... And she wished she had. But Lynch's pause seemed to cause the others to wait as well.

She just wanted him to order... To get on with her job and go home... She just wanted to do it and get it over with. Of course it was awkward, of course she wished that they had forgotten each other. Now it was just one more person that... That knew why she hated her life.

"So, what do you guys want to drink? Whiskey for you sir?" She asked Lynch with almost a pleading smile. "What about the rest of you guys? I can get ya just about anything ya want." She said, winking again at the guy who'd spoke before, after all, just because Lynch was here... She still had to work.

"Uh... sorry. Yeah, a whiskey," Lynch said awkwardly, Jack and Denny giving him off looks at his reaction to the waitress. Now he really, really, didn't want to be there. He could always leave. If he didn't mind the gay jokes and general ribbing the two would give him until he finally snapped and had to throw a punch.

Denny spoke up, his eyes also staying pretty exclusively below the collarbone. "Gimme Bud, sweet thing," he replied, adjusting the strained belt at his waist. And you know what a guy's thinging about when he plays with his belt...

But his attention moved to the girls on stage quickly enough. Gyrating girls must have been more interesting than stationary ones. And of course strobing lights tended to catch boob-distracted male attentions.

Jack gave a broad smirk that almost passed for a smile and gave Vicky's well-displayed ass a little rub-pat. "Why don't you get me a bud too, baby, and... how much for a dance?"

"Sure baby." She smiled as she turned, feeling the man's hand on her backside. Pigs... But she held her temper back, knowing that they would be her income for the night.

"A dance huh? Well just put it this way..." She said as she turned to face him with a seductive smile, leaning in on his shoulders. "The more you pay... The better I play." She said, as best a whisper as she could amongst the music.

She was doing her best to ignore Lynch, if she thought of him here, she wouldn't be able to do what she had to.

"But while you're thinking and getting all worked up, I'll go get you those drinks." She said, running her fingers through his hair as she made her way back to the bar.

God she hated her job... Her life...

If she were stronger... She'd end it. She really would. She had no future here...she knew it.

She was doing her best not to cry, run her make up, but it was getting hard. Usually she didn't have a problem, but well... Seeing someone here that she thought of as a semi-friend, finding out her shameful secrets, her horrible life.

Watching Jack fondle Victoria's... derrière made Lynch already want to throw a punch. Oh that would be good. Jack would just punch back and then Lynch would be inciting a brawl. With his luck, somebody would call the police and he'd end up spending a night in jail.

Well maybe he was getting a little far ahead of himself. Bottom line was still that tossing a haymaker probably wouldn't be a good idea.

Lynch tried to tell himslef not to get so worked up. He wasn't Victoria's father, even if he felt old enough to be. In fact, he didn't really know her at all. All Lynch had done was talk to her for a few minutes outside of a cafe. That was it.

But it didn't matter how many times he told himself that. Lynch had kind of liked the girl. And the way she leaned in close to Jack and the way his eyes immediately dipped to her sweater-lifted breasts made his fists clench. The way she ran her fingers through his hair made his teeth grit.

As soon as she turned away to go get their drinks, Jack popped Lynch in the shoulder, oblivious of Lynch's discomfort. "Ohm an, did you see that ass?" he crowed.

"Hard not to," Lynch said stiffly.

Jack laughed, his attention, like Denny's, shifting to the girls onstage. "You oughta get one too, Lynch my boy. Might make you less of a limp dick to be around."

((Fast-forward now?))

She knew Lynch wouldn't like what she was doing... But she had to. She had to work, even if he was here, and that meant going for the guys who seemed interested. And well Lynch... He didn't even look like he wanted to be here, let alone get a lap dance from the girl he met outside of a restaurant.

She had noticed his agitation when she has all but sat in his friends lap before leaving to get the drinks... But she ignored him completely as she preformed the requested lap dance, leaving his friend both pleased and wanting more. But she swore to herself she wouldn't sleep with him, no matter how much he offered. She wouldn't let him know how dirty she really was.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was two-thirty in the morning now, and it was just about last call for alcohol. The club closed at four, and she was working until then, but alcohol stopped at three.

She had danced on the stage twice more since they showed up and had come to ignore Lynch quite well, she just couldn't look at his face. As long as she didn't see his face and whatever look might be on it... She would be okay.

"Okay darlings, it's gonna be last call for drinks soon. You wanna put in any more last minute requests for anything." She said as she leaned over the other guy's shoulder, the one who hadn't had a dance besides Lynch. "And of course that does mean anything you know." She purred, hating herself all the while.

You don't know her... You don't know her... You really don't know her...

That's what Lynch kept saying to himself. He said it while Victoria ground her lap into Jack's. Said it while she ran fingers through his hair, what there was of it, again. And he said it several times when he noticed Jack's frisky hands.

Lynch took a long swallow of his beer. He'd already had too much of the sour mash tonight. Shit-faced biggy time, he thought to himself, wondering how much he would be slurring his words.

Damn, though, he needed the better part of a bottle of the mash to deal with watching his quote/unquote buddies ogling girls. And getting lap dances. Jack in particular seemed to be fascinated with Victoria, or Vicky as she was here.

It didn't help that Jack was even drunker than Lynch was. Denny and Lynch were running neck and neck for second place, though for different reasons. Denny was enjoying himself, not to mention emptying his wallet on the dancers.

When Vicky leaned over Denny's shoulder, a bleary grin creased his doughy face. "Hey sweetie, why dontcha run off t' Aruba witch me?" Denny slurred chuckling and giving her rear a quick pinch.

Jack gave Denny a shove. "Yah right, lard ass. Hey honeypot, got time for another dance? Come sit on my dick like you did before..." he invited, all but falling out of his chair.

That was rather enough. Lynch grabbed Jack by the back of his collar, wanting to use his other hand to pop Jack one right in the nose. Instead he said, "I thinks you had enough, Jacko. C'mon Denny, lessgo get a cab..." and lifted/dragged him towards the door. Lynch managed his words a little more precisely than his friends'.

Outside, he managed to pour them each into the cab. Since he didn't want to follow them in and have to inhale their stale alcohol stink for half an hour, he fished out Jack's wallet and tossed it at the driver. "Take 'em to 808 Rynerson, willya? If they pass out, just drop 'em on the sidewalk," Lynch ordered.

Then he sat down on the curb propped up against a stop sign and fumbled around for his cigarettes. Lynch was drunk enough he'd probably set his head on fire... Boy was he going to hate the whole damn world in the morning.

"Aruba huh? Not a big fan of beaches." Victoria chuckled. God... She hated drunk men... They were some of the worst in her opinion. But well... She had to deal with them. At least they were fun drunks, not violent drunks. Usually when Jason got drunk he'd beat her, some times even force himself on her. She couldn't say it was rape... because she knew it would be easiest just to go along with him. It only hurt when she resisted.

But a moment later, Lynch was pulling them all towards the door, and as they were the last of her clients for the night... Well, she was able to change and go home.

Twenty minutes later, Victoria's earnings were in her bag, dressed in a pair of simple, almost baggy jeans and a hooded sweatshirt over a tank top, she was out. Her hair was back up in a bun, just the way Lynch had seen her the first time, and that same defeated, tired look was in her eyes.

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, she saw Lynch sitting a few feet away.

With a soft sigh, she made her way over, slipping down to sit next to him.

"See what I meant... It's not any better..." Victoria murmured, not even looking at him. "It pays a little better, but the clients..." She shook her head, not really needing to say anymore.

Lynch had dropped his Dorals and couldn't seem to find them. Squinting he leaned over to his left and hunted for the little green package. The fry cook didn't see them. And then he had to throw out his hand when he leaned over a little more and lost his balance. Lynch was very, very drunk. Mind you he was sitting down.

When he overcompensated with the intention of popping back upright, Lynch instead nearly fell into Victoria's lap as she sat down beside him. "Whoa..." Blearily, he squinted at her, his eyes already shot with blood. "Damn, I think I'm drunk," Lynch mumbled. Well really he knew he was drunk.

As she spoke, though he wished he was just a little drunker. Maybe he'd just pass out and in the morning it would all be better. Well, not better, but he would have the mammoth hangover to deal with and Victoria's problems would be very very small next to that.

"Shit, girl... I's not gonna tell ya it's wrong. Gotta have that money," Lynch stated patting the dirty sidewalk at random in the vague hope that his hand would land on his cigs. The bleary eyes found her face again. "But is th' handful of change more you get per hour here really better than another waitressing job?"

"Yeah... You are..." She agreed softly when he said he was drunk. Was there really any point in talking to him now? He wouldn't be much for conversation, and he wouldn't hardly remember it in the morning.

"You're not going to tell me it's wrong? You sure seemed to think so when you first came in." She pointed out, doubting he would remember.

Victoria sighed though, standing up as he asked his last question. "It... It's not a matter of the pay. They're open until four in the morning. It's more hours that I can work. Most restaurants close at eleven or so. So instead of working a max of twelve hours a day, I can work seventeen or so."

Besides, Jason had basically forced her to work here. He'd demanded she get a job int hat shit hole so him and his buddies could get free dances. She doubted there wasn't a friend or a dealer that she hadn't given a lap dance too, and sometimes... Jason would make her do more... If he owed someone money.

"It's not like I want to work there... I don't have a choice. But... I'm going to go. It's been a long day, I'm tired... I... I'll talk to you later okay? Nothing against you personally, but I don't like drunks." She gave his hair a little ruffle before turning away to head to her rat trap of an apartment.

[[Oooh, color!]]

Lynch massaged his head with his hands, kind of wishing he was sober for this and kind of not. "Look," he began narrowly avoiding calling her 'kid', "say you meet... somebody and somebody seems like a nice person. Seeing as how you're new to the city and don't meet a whole lot of people that talk to ya or seem like nice people, ya kinda/sorta hope that maybe you'll meet that nice somebody again. And then ya do. But it's when a couple a idiots you work with bully you into going to a strip club and the nice somebody happens to be working there." Lynch spoke slowly-trying hard to enunciate every word.

Squinting at her again, he kind of shrugged a little. "I was thrown and yeah... I guess I was a little dis'ppointed too. Ya seem like ya could do better. But hell kid... I ain't teh moral police or nothing. Look, I did me some stupid shit when I lost my job. We all do what we can for money." Lynch laughed a little, putting both hands on the ground to keep from falling over again. "He-e-ell," he said, drawing the word out into three syllables. "I'sd probally take my clothes off for cash if I thought they wouldn't run screaming for cover..."

When she ruffled his hair, Lynch looked up and shrugged more or less cordially. Despite what he'd said, a vision of how she'd looked dancing on Jack's lap suddenly flashed to mind. Ugh... Lynch figured he probably should have poured that whiskey in his eyes instead of down his throa.t Woulda done more good. "Aw'righty," Lynch replied makning no move to get up himself.

Maybe he'd just spend the night here... didn't have to work till tomorrow evening. B'sides it wasn't like anyone was gonna rob him...

"It... It bothered me too. I was hoping that you wouldn't find out... Because so many people... They just look at me different when they find out I'm a stripper. No one at work associates with me because of it, I don't have any friends because of my boyfriend and the fact I'm afraid they're going to find out..." Victpria shook her head slightly.

"I don't want to do it... But I don't have any choice. Jason won't let me quit. And if I quit, we lose the apartment." Not to mention the fact he would beat her senseless.

"I'll find you when you're sober..." She said quietly. "I want to talk to you, but I know now's not the best time..." She murmured softly.

"Get home safe, sleep well and I hope you don't feel too bad in the morning."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was two days later when Victoria made her way to the place that Lynch had told her to go, the restaurant where he worked. She of course figured he'd be working, so maybe she could set up a time to see him again, or see if he even wanted to know her after the other night.

God... She felt horrible for that night, really. When she noticed it was him and his buddies, she should have just walked away. But she had needed the money... She couldn't say no.

"Hi... Uh... I'm looking for Lynch?" She asked someone who'd approached her.

"Sure hold on a second, lemme get him."

Victoria nodded and took a seat in a small booth, waiting for him.

"Your boyfriend sounds like a prick," Lynch commented not realizing that that could be interepreted as an insult. With a sigh, he dropped his hands down by his sides. Then he gave a triumphant sor of "Aha" when he managed to, by pure luck, lay his right hand on his cigarettes.

Hmm... now the question was where he'd put his lighter... Ah hell. Forget it. Lynch decided to black his lungs some other time and tucked the crumpled pack of Dorals into his pocket.

"Hey. Hey, Victoria?" Lynch called as she turned to leave. "It don't mean much coming from a fry cook... but you can do better than stripping and hooking yourself to a guy that won'dt let you quit a job you hate... you know? I mean, um, yeah." Lynch sighed and kinda flipped his hand up in a wave. "Anyway... 'Bye."

-----------

"Hey Lynch!"

"Eh?" Lynch looked up from where he was busily deep-frying an order of fish and chips. Anne picked her way over towards him. "Yeah?"

"There's someone out here to see you," Ann replaied.

Lynch waved his spatula dismissively and said, "If it's a dude in a suit, tell him to--"

"Nah, it's some girl."

Frowning, wondering what girl he knew that would be visiting him now, Lynch shfugged and yanked the crispy fish cakes out of the oil. Setting them tko the side to drain, he wiped his hands on a handcloth and pushed out of the kitchen.

The restaurant wasn't quite in the lunch rush yet, so he spotted Victoria quite quickly. Lynch winced. How drunk had he been the other night? "Hey..."

"Hey." Victoria responded with a smile as she watched him come from the kitchen. "I.. I know you're busy and all." She said as she stood up. "But I was just wondering if maybe we could talk sometime? I... I mean if you don't want to that's fine... I understand, really." After all, not many people wanted to associate wiht a stripper. Well, not in this sort of way anyway.

"I didn't tell you where I worked, because I knew it would only cause problems." She said looking down slightly, then back up. After all, she wasn't afraid... Just a bit embaressed. "I mean, I know it was your buddies that probably drug you in there. I see it all the time. But... I... I was hoping that a bad coincedince like that won't keep us from being friends."

Well, she was more than hoping really. She needed someone she could talk to... Someone who could help her out if she needed it, physically and emotionaly.

She had taked his last words to heart... How she could do better than stripping... Do better than having Jason bumming around her apartment... She had even done so much as to ask Jason if he minded her quitting Connie's. But he hadn't liked that too much, but luckaly he hadn't smacked her around too hard.

"I... I just wanted to talk about what you'd said more..."

"Hey back," Lynch replied easily as he pulled a chair out from another table, spun it around, and plopped down. (And he didn't even knock a chair over.) Cooking meant being on his feet and his feet, even in his incredibly comfortable (and incredibly old) shoes, usually ached like bad teeth by the end of the day. Lynch took every opportunity he got to get off them.

Listening to her Lynch gave an immediate nod. Not too quickly. He didn't wanna look like he was, like, pouncing on the chance to strike up a friendship with a girl who knew how many years younger than him. That could be interpreted as a little creepy. And Lynch was neurotic about appearing creepy after, well. No sense dredging up old memories. "Sure, I'd like to talk too," he replied.

"And I'd like to be frineds," Lynch added as he crossed his arms on the back of the chair. It creaked. Even though he felt himself blushing, some of which was fortuitously covered by his little goatee/beard and the stubble he really needed to either shave off or let grow, he continued, "I'd like to friends too. Really."

Victoria sat down as he did, not wanting to feel foolish, and if he had some time now... Why not take advantage of it? And well, he'd probably enjoy anything to sit for a while. As a waitress and a dancer, she knew well the pains of being on your feet all day. She knew that you cherished any moment to sit down.

Maybe it was things like that that seemed to give them a bit of a connection.

"You're just someone... That I think I can talk to... Like... Even if you can't help... You'll still listen and try to help me." She said with a gentle smile. "And it would be really nice to have someone like that now. Just someone who can listen." She added.

"Say..." Victoria grinned suddenly. "You're buddies from the other night aren't working are they?" She gave a slight chuckle. "It would be interesting to see how well they remember me. Or if they'd still think I'm pretty when I'm dressed like I'm normally dressed." She knew she looked different on and off stage, that wasn't really a debate. Now, her hair was pulled up into a clipped bun, she was wearing her glasses instead of her contacts, and her clothing didn't accentuate her breasts nearly as much. In fact, one wouldn't think she was a stripper at all.

Well, she didn't have the mentality of one, the ones who would seriously flirt with every guy whether they paid or not... Sure she'd flirt, but as she had told his friend from the night before, the more you pay, the better she'd play. To her, it was just a job. Not life or fun.

Lynch gave a kind of smile/shrug combo and looked down. "I'm a good listener. 'Cause, wehn I talk, I tend to babble. Or ramble. Possibly both. So, um, yeah. Not talking usually works better." He babbled and rambled when he wasn't sure what he was doing, at least. Lynch hadn't been a bibbling idiot when he'd still eben working as a counselor.

"Them? Nah... Jack only works weekends and Denny won't start his shift today until later. Noonish, I think," Lynch shrugged. He liked them okay, strip club-going tendencies notwithstanding. They were the good sort to go to a bar with, have a few beers, and yell at sporting events on the television.

Lynch frowned. "Dunno. They were pretty shit-faced. Um, pretty wasted," he corrected, trying to edit his language a little. It wasn't that he thought Victoria had especially delicate ears, it was just... well. Sounded lower class when ya cursed too much. Nice in small doses, white-trash if ya went overboard.

Or something.

"Oh, I'm sure you've got a lot of useful things to say. I mean... You... You don't seem like just a cook or anything. I don't know what it is. But it just seems like you'd understand." She smiled slightly as she leaned her chin in her hand.

"Ah, pity." Victoria laughed as he said that the others weren't working. "It would have been interesting to see. Maybe I'll come back sometime." She gave him a little wink. "And maybe... Well, maybe you should come back and visit me sometime at work. I... I know you didn't like it too much last time, but... I guess I just want to show you strip clubs aren't too bad. I mean, it's safe, and it's not like I take everything off. I mean some do but we don't have to if we don't want to." But maybe he...

"I'm sorry... I mean I know it's not the best of places Lynch... But it's not the worst either." She bit her lip slightly and looked down at the table. "I might not work there by choice, but it's not like I hate everything about it. I always wanted to dance... Maybe not that type of dancing, but...." She sighed. "I have no clue what I'm saying..."

Lynch smiled a little, and also felt the beginnings of a flush creeping up again. It never failed. Pretty girl plus smile or nice comment equaled a red, bumbling Lynch. Sad. As in very.

"Thanks," he replied as he gave the return smile, absently picking up a napkin and shredding it. Lynch needed something to fiddle with. It didn't really help, but if he didn't fiddle he'd just sit and, like, wring his hands together or something.

He looked up as she spoke, then looked back down. "I don't have a, like, defined dislike for those kinds of places or anything. I just... well, they're just not my 'thing', I guess," Lynch mumbled. He wasn't a prude or anything, and certainly couldn't deny that he was a functional guy, but. Well, Lynch just wasn't really the strib clup type.

Lynch shrugged a little, saying, "It's okay. I do that a lot. Say things without knowing what exactly is coming out."

"Oh... Okay, then don't worry. I mean if you wouldn't enjoy it anyway, I wouldn't want to ask you do come." Victoria smiled softly. "But I mean if you're interested, I usually have off Mondays and Tuesdays. They're always kind of slow there." She said as she stood up. "But... I should get going. I don't want to get you in trouble for just sitting around... I know how some managers can be."

It was kind of slow in the restaurant, but sometimes managers liked to keep their workers working no matter what.

"But... I get off from Petit Paris at nine... I don't know if you'd be interested in having a drink or two maybe, but the bartender is pretty good." She offered. "My treat. Or rather I guess indirectly your buddies." She gave a small grin as she leaned on the booth next to him.

Lynch kinda jumped when she mentioned how managers could be. Shit! He'd forgotten he was just on break and not actually, you know, off of work. Guitlily he glanced around relaxing a little when his boss was nowhere in sight.

"Yeah. Yeah, I lost track of time. I probably do need to ge tback to work," Lynch said. He sounded thrilled at the idea. Not.

Scooping the shredded napkin peices into his hand, he nodded. "Nine, okay... I might do taht. Oughta get outta the house more and the kitchen. The bar at Petit Paris?"