Schrödinger’s Hot Little Box
A strip club doesn’t have to be female-unsettling, at least no more than anything else women go through like a step-dad with too-friendly hands, a boyfriend who calls you passible rather than pretty, or a mom who finds a way to get angry at every damn thing. That’s what Kandi and I told each other during those early days after we opened the club and started hauling in all that money. Kandi had been my best friend since I’d arrived in San Diego and landed in the room next door: two girls in a rooming house on the wrong side of San Diego’s gentrified Park West. In those first months in the city, nothing in my world seemed to make sense, not the jet fighters flying overhead, not the billowing smoke that swept up from the south, and most definitely not the way so many guys failed to tip as I twerked my hips and slipped down Little Darlings fireman’s pole. San Diego was supposed to be my new beginning, my liberation call.
Interzone is Britain’s longest running science fiction and fantasy magazine.