"Keeps my mind off of death."

Casey was sick. Not take some Nyqil and weed kinda sick. More like, cough so much your throat bleeds, so weak you can barely climb the stairs up to the stage.

It was rumored she had AIDS, all anyone knew for sure was how hard she worked. She was at the club every morning and she closed the place every night. When things were slow she'd serve drinks for extra tips.

She told me how much she loved Marilyn Monroe, how she was so beautiful and talented. It was sad to watch Casey dance, sad to watch her drag her lifeless body across the floor, touch herself - not to be sexy but to keep from having to move too much. And the coughing, coughing on stage for minutes at a time. Most men would move to the back of the room, too ashamed and scared.

All this so she could get insurance to cover some of the medical bills.

You can only get the insurance if you're unemployed, and you can only survive if you have an income. So there you are getting paid under the table at a strip joint, just to stay alive.