The club gave him a name.
It took everything else.
Forty-eight hours ago, Ron lived in Connecticut—fiancée, shared car, a life with someone else’s name on the lease. Now he’s reclined in a rented Hyundai outside a Las Vegas strip club, two hundred dollars to his name, smoking his first cigarette in years because that’s the kind of week it’s been. In twelve minutes he starts work as a doorman at the world’s largest gentlemen’s club. He doesn’t recognize the face in the rearview mirror. Or maybe he does, and that’s the real problem.
A working-class noir written from the inside out.
Written with the blunt realism of Charles Bukowski and the observational hunger of Anthony Bourdain, Novocaine For My Soul skips the sanitized redemption myths. From the surveillance room to the street-level typewriter, Ron Dillon chronicles what it costs a man to manage a room built to take everything from him, and what’s still standing once the shift ends.
Where This Book Lives
The Neon Purgatory
An insider’s look into Sapphire Gentlemen’s Club. A world governed by strict hierarchies, survival economics, and the specific intelligence needed to manage threat at 3 AM.
Logistics of Addiction
No romantic skid-row myths or cheap metaphors. Just the physical reality, the exact price paid, and recovery treated like learning to walk on a leg that healed wrong.
Friction, Not Certainty
A former worship guitarist arguing with God from a surveillance room, a strip club bathroom, a parking garage at 4 AM. No comfort arrives. The argument just keeps showing up, uninvited, for twenty years.
Get the First Chapter Free
Three suitcases, two hundred dollars, and a shift starting in fifteen minutes. Drop your email and get Chapter One of Novocaine For My Soul straight to your inbox.
