Stripped Awake

May 25th, 2026 Kacie Nail

I was chilling on the couch, binge-watching Season 3 of Sex and the City with my mom, when I glanced over and caught the California Post’s front page. And wouldn’t you know it—the faces staring back at me were all too familiar. 

Enter stage left: Mike Galam and Craig Franze.

They are owners and now former business partners of Bare Elegance and Body Shop, two gentleman’s clubs I worked in for several years in my twenties.

Craig Franze, owner of The Body Shop strip club in West Hollywood, is facing a multimillion-dollar fraud lawsuit filed by his former best friend, Mike Galam, and Galam’s son. The suit alleges Franze defrauded them of $2.9 million in a “bait-and-switch” scheme involving two rival clubs, 4Play and Plan B, which Franze reportedly took control of by transferring ownership to his own companies and excluding the Galams.

The lawsuit accuses Franze and co-defendant Archie Donovan of draining profits and corporate assets from the clubs, as well as embezzling over $1 million from Bare Elegance, another club owned by Galam. It details lavish spending by Franze on luxury cars, jewelry, and a high-end rental home.

Additional serious allegations include involvement in sex trafficking, illegal alcohol and drug sales, and running high-stakes underground poker games. One player claimed he was underpaid winnings and intimidated when he complained.

Franze denies all allegations, calling the lawsuit an extortion attempt, and says he plans to file a counter-complaint. The Galams seek to regain ownership of the clubs through the lawsuit.

The case was filed in Los Angeles Superior Court this week.

But here’s the thing no headline’s shouting loud enough: the real people caught in the middle of this mess are the girls. While Craig was busy stealing millions and turning clubs into his own personal ATM, it was us—the dancers—who got screwed over. The music played, the poles spun, and behind the scenes, young girls were caught in a cycle they couldn’t easily break free from.

Our money? It was getting skimmed like we were extras in someone else’s game. We worked our asses off night after night, but the suits in the back office were lining their pockets, ignoring the rules and the risks we faced. It’s not just about a fraud scandal or some rich guy’s drama—it’s about lives, safety, and dignity getting trampled while the cash flowed the wrong way.

During the years Craig was embezzling (and claiming our club was “bleeding money”), the girls working at Mike’s club were experiencing a little microdose of hell.

I explain more about this on last year’s blog post “His Playground”. 

This fight isn’t just legal paper—it’s about real people who keep these clubs alive. And they deserve to be seen, heard, and protected.

I’ve been in this world long enough to know that behind the glitter and spotlight, there’s a tough reality we dancers live every day. It’s not just about putting on a show—it’s about survival, navigating a system that often treats us like commodities instead of human beings. When the people in charge are busy stealing from us or worse, turning a blind eye to trafficking and illegal dealings, it chips away at everything—our sense of safety, respect, and trust.

If things are ever going to change, the silence has to break. We deserve clubs where safety isn’t just a line on a contract, where money made from our work flows fairly, and where the people at the top actually care about the lives behind the stage.

First, there has to be transparency and accountability at every level—from ownership to management. Independent oversight could help make sure no one’s stealing, exploiting, or hiding the truth. And the legal system needs to prioritize the voices and safety of the women and girls, not just chase corporate disputes.

Most of all, we need a cultural shift. This isn’t just business; it’s people’s lives. When we respect and protect the dancers—not just the bottom line—we build a stronger, safer, realer community. And that’s the kind of stage worth being on.

So yeah, as this conflict with Craig and Mike unfolds, I’m curious—what do you all make of it? 

When the people at the top are busy playing power games, who really ends up paying the price?

 How do we make sure the dancers—us—aren’t just collateral damage in these battles?

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Because honestly, this isn’t just some juicy scandal to watch from the sidelines. It’s a wake-up call about how this world really works—and how it can work better, for everyone.

Craig and Mike’s story is messy, and complicated, and definitely not over. But maybe, just maybe, our voices can be part of changing the game. 

What do you think?