Unlike some other clubs, Scarlett's entry fee allows customers to sit by the stage without paying an extra charge. Mercedes leans over, laughing in his ear. After escorting me to a table at the rear of the club, Vadik now retires to his office to retrieve a menu for my perusal. Midnight I sit at the gray slate, square-shaped table and watch a girl with long black hair, wet red leather tube top, black pants and long black hair walk toward the bar. Girl is sobbing.
TV is close-captioned.
The room, momentarily, comes alive. The moment passes. Man next to her applauds. Man in his late 20s grabs her hand, starts to walk with her to fantasy dance area, she runs back to booth, gets other dancer, pulls her along. They head for VIP area instead.