New York City. Fall, 1995. Below the feet of Times Square tourists, down a long flight of stairs, is a world where topless dancers spin around poles and grind money out of the pockets of nameless faces. For most, it’s a fantasy. For some, it’s therapy. For a few, a confessional. But beyond the Main Stage and behind the Men’s Room door you’ll find a different kind of performance going on – a grifter with more talent and charisma than most of the dancers. Meet Shoes, the bathroom attendant. He’s been here three years. Will he stay, or will he go? All he knows, for now, is that as the masses enter, he has one objective – get whatever cash they’re putting into his tip bowl. No easy task. And whether they leave money or not, one thing’s for sure – they are no longer nameless, and whatever secrets they are trying to hide, are exposed in the bright light of the head.