They walk away.
He watches them go and lights a cigarette.
The last patrons leave at around three thirty. He helps to throw them out. It smells of sweat down there and feels like a sauna after the damp freshness of the street. The lights are on, which makes the place look small. The main stage and the “private” ones at the sides look small and shabby. As he makes his way to Freddy’s office, he passes a few of the girls, leaving in tracksuits and raincoats, with earbuds in their ears and don’t-even-think-about-talking-to-me expressions on their faces.
He doesn’t talk to them.
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