Violence didn’t have much to do between shows because it wasn’t exactly like he had a compelling social life in Memphis. He was just a boy from a mostly white Champion, Alberta, and a little out of his element in a racially mixed midwestern city.

That wasn’t stopping him from trying to integrate the best he could.

And, of course, his good faith effort made him a regular down at The Gold Club, a strip club off highway 240 and I40.

As he entered the doors and into the lobby, the bouncer gave him a nod of recognition and smoothly opened the door into the main room. It was dark, the strobe lights were pulsing, hip hop music was bumping, and girls were everywhere. There were several ladies dancing on the three stages, and even more were serving drinks and offering up lap dances to patrons.

Violence sneered to himself. This was his sort of place.

“Hey Violence,” the girls swooned as he walked by, hoping to give a lap dance to the professional wrestler.

Instead, he went straight to the main stage where big attraction as supposed to be. A new girl was dancing tonight, and Violence had heard she was one of the best in Memphis at the other clubs.

Unfortunately, his usual front-and-center seat was taken, which annoyed him. He headed over and stood above the young man with his arms crossed.

The guy was probably only 21, and maybe on his first night at a strip club. His eyes went wide looking at the hulking professional wrestler, and quickly got the hint.

After the kid got out of the seat, Violence sat down and lit up a cigarette while the current song died down.

“Let’s giiiiive it up forrrrr Cinnamon!”

The DJ’s prompt led to a few cheers while the brown skinned dancer scooped up the remaining dollar bills off the stage and headed behind the back curtain.

Then, the beats of local rapper Moneybagg Yo began to bump off of the speakers and the DJ got back on his microphone.

“Here’s a very special treat for you Gold Club members,” the DJ said. “It’s her first time ever dancing here… please welcome, Lady V!”

From behind the curtain emerged a short, beautiful woman in purple top and bottom. Her dark hair bounced around her shoulders as he confidently grabbed the pool and did a quick spin around it.

Violence smiled to himself.

No fucking way he thought.

It was Golden Pro Wrestling reporter Vicky Cogliano.

This is too good. This is too fucking good.

Vicky took another spin and loosened her top, which fell to the stage floor and triggered some hooting and hollering from the ring of men watching her.

After a seductive walk in front of all the patrons, she finally came in front of Violence and glanced at him, which quickly froze her in place.

She briefly had a horrified, embarrassed look, but straightened it out immediately and kept on dancing.

Violence flicked a dollar bill on the stage and contemplated to himself how he could use this to his advantage.