I looked over at Francine. She had a big smile, but it faded as she felt my gaze on the side of her face. "I know. I know. He'sbeen saying that for months, but this time I think he's really going to do it."
Francine was always in the same financial bind as me. During the day she worked as a clerk at a city records office, and she spent three nights a week at Tommy's to help keep her head above water. She had no child to care for, which gave her more freedom, like the semi-new car she drove. Working at Tommy's wasn't all that bad, especially since the owner, Tommy, died of a heart attack three years earlier. We all adored Tommy. He was a big, sweet, gentle giant of a man with a great laugh, but he liked to keep his club traditional. Back when Tommy was in charge, the customers could tuck tips into our underwear or other places, but once his widow, Jasmine, took over, she set down some hard and fast rules. No lap dances, no matter how much the customer paid and no direct contact with any of her dancers. She hired a great bouncer, Oscar, a retired policeman, who was expert at spotting and diffusing trouble before it started.
A line was already forming at the entrance. "I hope it's a good tip night," Francine said. "I've had my eye on this adorable new winter coat." Adorable new winter coats were another treat Francine could afford since she didn't pay for day care or new shoes that tiny feet grew out of every other month.
Jasmine spotted us as we stepped inside. "You're up first, Ray. Hurry and get dressed."
Thirty minutes later, the barroom was filled with mostly men and a few women. The harsh stage lights were a nice way to avoid seeing the audience. I had three dance routines, and I knew them so well I could let my mind wander as I performed. My body moved instinctively to the music. I knew exactly which garment to drop at exactly which lyric, and I could move from pole to chair to stool, my props, without internally counting my steps anymore. It was all automatic which helped me forget that I was stripping down to almost nothing in front of a roomfull of strangers and semi-strangers. Most of our regulars were businessmen, married and settled into regular lives. They came to Tommy's to step away from those mundane existences for an hour or two. Occasionally, someone would try to touch a girl or get up on stage, but Oscar and Jasmine always had our backs. The customers knew the rules and breaking one would get them thrown out for good. Jasmine had a zero-tolerance policy, and we all appreciated it.
I was the first dancer on stage, and the stripper pole was still cold and dry, slowing my spin some. The air hadn't thickened yet with the warm heat generated by a room full of excited men. I hated dancing first, but it meant my last dance would be at ten. After our final dance, we could get dressed and put on an apron for serving drinks. It meant more tips than just the money in the dance jar, and I was happy to earn more. My life had been on track, but the car and the apartment fiascos had just put a big curve in that track.
My mostly naked body spun through the air, and I dropped my head back. Dancing in the nude was freeing, especially if I blocked out the roomful of dark silhouettes whose faces were blurred by the bright stage lights. One minute, I was washing ketchup from a plastic dinosaur and reading a bedtime story and the next, I was swinging myself around a pole in front of a group of men who were trying to find some meaning in life that wasn't attached to a dull job and stressful family.
The music ended. The lights kept me mostly oblivious to what was happening in the barroom, but I heard plenty of money being shoved into the dance tip jar. I scooped up my clothes and hurried back to the dressing room. Jasmine knocked as I pulled on my shorts and sweatshirt.
"Ray?" she asked.
"C'mon in Jaz." I sat at the shared vanity table and double checked my makeup. I wore little or no makeup at the diner, butI'd found that heavy stage makeup resulted in more tips at the club.
Jasmine hurried in and pulled over a chair to sit down. We both had a conversation through our reflections in the mirror. "You were great tonight." She placed a hundred-dollar bill on the table amongst the clutter of makeup and hair embellishments.
I looked at her. "For me?"
Jasmine shook her head. "For me."
I leaned my head in annoyance. "Nice way to get a girl's hopes up."
"A certain Rolex-wearing man paid me this hundred to make sure he got the table in the back corner. I also had to ask you to join him for a drink. He says he's going to pay you two hundred dollars just to sit with him for fifteen minutes and have a drink. He wants to get to know you."
I slammed down the compact I was holding. "Are you fucking kidding me with that, Jaz? And news alert, asking for the dark corner table is not a 'hey, I just want to get to know you move.'"
"That's why I'm going to station Oscar nearby. Look, I think he's on the up-and-up. He seems like a respectable guy, and he's interested in you, Ray. Maybe you're missing an opportunity to meet a quality man."
"A Rolex and an expensive car don't mean he's respectable," I argued.
Jasmine pursed her lips. "Are you sure? Sounds respectable in my book."
"That's because you're constantly reading those billionaire romances where the downtrodden Cinderella type ends up charming the rich prince. That's all fairy tales and spicy novel stuff, Jaz. It doesn't exist in real life."
"Suit yourself. I don't see how there's a downside, and two hundred bucks is a nice upside." Jasmine patted my hand. "Youknow I'd never put you in a dangerous situation. Don't Oscar and I always have your back?"
I sighed and tilted my head in the mirror as I looked at her. "Two hundred dollars just to sit and have a drink with the man. But I'm still on the clock?"
"Of course, and Oscar will be watching to make sure he doesn't try anything."
"Fine, but I'm wearing my shorts and sweatshirt out there."
"He didn't mention any rules of dress, so I'm sure that's fine." Suddenly, she was having second thoughts. "Or I could just walk out there and tell him you're not interested."
"No, I need the money, Jaz. My life's taken so many bad turns this week that I'm in no position to turn down an easy two hundred dollars. He'd better not be lying about the money."
"If he is we'll have Oscar turn him upside down, hang him by the ankles and shake him till that expensive watch and his wallet fall to the ground."
I smiled and gave her a quick hug. "I'll be right out."
"I'll let him know. What drink should I get you?"
"Just a glass of Chablis."