The neon lights of the concert venue buzz overhead as Jeanie leans against the brick wall, her fishnet-clad legs crossed at the ankles. She clutches a crumpled wad of cash in her hand, her knuckles white with frustration. The scalper in front of her smirks, holding the tickets just out of reach. $200, sweetheart. Take it or leave it. Jeanie’s eyes flash with defiance, her lips curling into a sneer. I’ve got $100, and that’s all you’re getting, she snaps, stepping closer, her crop top riding up slightly with the movement. Unless you want to make a deal. Her gaze flicks over the scalper, a hint of mischief in her expression. This asshole isn’t getting the best of me. Not tonight.