Goodbye,
Nevada
I clenched my fists behind my back. I was in the back of a cop car. The same cop car that had been waiting for me when I drove home, out of my mind from her note. We’d been sitting here for an hour, while my dad tried to get the cops to let me go.
It wasn’t working.
I watched as my father shook hands with the police and walked over to the car.
“I’ll be right behind you Clay.”
I nodded. It was hard to believe his sudden interest in my well being. I could understand him wanting to avoid the embarrassment, sure. But this mess was all his fault to begin with.
Well, most of it.
Maybe not the face bashing part.
That was all me.
I was processed rapidly, with what had to be more courtesy than the common criminal received. That probably had something to do with my father and his attorney looming in the waiting room in suits that cost more than some of these guys made in a month.
There was something about crazy money that just intimidated people.
Finally I was uncuffed and fingerprinted. I stared at my ink stained hands. Just a few hours ago, I’d been touching the most beautiful girl in the world with these hands.
And now she was gone. And I was in jail. I almost laughed at the cruel irony.
It was an hour later before they came to get me from the holding cell to talk to the lawyer. Stan was an okay guy for a suit. He and my dad had been friends forever. He’d always been nice to me. I knew he was giving me straight advice.
I had to cop to public nuisance but deny the battery charges. Deny deny deny. Matt had it coming so I felt zero compunction lying about who had thrown the first punch.
Actually, Matt had thrown the first punch. After I’d steamrolled him into a dumpster. So, it was all good. Nobody had seen the fight begin except Nevada.
Not that I was going to drag her into this.
Finally, Stan stood up and shook my father’s hand. Dear old dad stayed behind, leaning on the back of one of the chairs.
“What the hell is wrong with you son?”
I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms.
“That little fucker messed with Nev.”
“What do you mean? Is she alright?”
My dad had perked right the fuck up when I mentioned Nevada. Interesting.
“He was groping her and called her some nasty names. So I intervened.”
He hung his head, exhaling. Then he looked up again. Desperation was all over his face.
“You’ve seen her? How are they?”
“Dana won’t call you back huh?”
My father shook his head sadly.
“I really fucked things up son. I only hope you don’t make the same mistakes I did.”
I held up my hands.
“Actually, I think it may be too late for that. Nevada told me to go to hell more or less.”
“But you know where they are?”
I nodded.
He slapped the back of his chair.
“Okay. As soon as they let you out of here, let’s go get them.”
Nevada
I hoisted the tray over my head, weaving my way through the low tables. All the seats here were in sunken pits. The men sat there and watched us parade around them.
I guess the view was better from that angle or something.
Or it kept them in their place. It didn’t stop the clientele from acting like pigs though.
I fought back a wave of disgust as someone tried to stuff a twenty dollar tip down my cleavage.
“Why don’t you get up there honey? You’d be great.”
I just smiled blankly and thought about how that money could go towards furniture for our new apartment. Or community college. Grin and bear it. That was my only choice.
I was the one who had taken a job in a strip club after all.
What the hell was I expecting?
This was the best I could do. Maybe for the rest of my life. If I couldn’t finish school, what better did I have to hope for?
No. I was going to beat this. And I was going to save enough to do community college at the very least. I might have to start in the middle of the year but so be it. I would go and I would finish.
Someday.
I just hoped I could keep it together the next time one of these creeps tried to touch me.
So far, I’d only been here a few days and I’d already had to stop myself from slugging at least ten guys.
At least the tips were good. And they hadn’t asked for a resume. After pounding the pavement for almost a week I’d finally walked in the door of Sheila’s Palace. The name was awful but the decor was actually kind of nice. Not that you could see it during open hours.
They’d taken one look at me and hired me on the spot. The owner Shelia told me right off the bat that my pay was two dollars an hour plus tips. I’d almost walked out.
And then she’d told me what kind of tips I could expect. Basically, I’d make in a night what it took me a week to make at the club. Not enough to pay my tuition but maybe enough to go to a local school. Get a few credits in the fall.
It was better than nothing.
A lot better than nothing.
Minus the creeps of course.
And I didn’t have to do anything untoward. Or flirt even. In fact, Sheila had warned me against it. Not because it was bad for business. Just because it would piss the other girls off.
They were more important than I was.
I kept my clothes on.
I sighed and went into the back to take a quick break. Anything to just not be stared at for five minutes. It was weird, how tiring it was to feel eyeballs on you all the time.
Especially since they were almost all old enough to be my dad.
Hell, my dad could actually be out there for all I knew.
I sure as shit wouldn’t recognize him.
I cringed at the bitterness in my thoughts. I was already turning into one of these women. Flat eyed and tired. Cynical.
I stood in the hallway with my eyes closed.
“It gets easier.”
I opened my eyes and one of the older girls was standing there. Barbara I think. But on stage, she was Bambi. It was ridiculous. Sad. Pathetic.
But her eyes were kind.
“They hassling you?”
I shrugged.
“You know you could make triple the money at least if you got up on the stage. You would blow most of these other bitches away.”
I knew she meant it as a compliment. But it was the last thing I wanted to hear at the moment.
“I don’t think I could do it. Thanks though.”
“Hey, you know what makes it a lot easier?”
“No, what?”
She pulled me into the dressing room and held up a bottle of tequila. The good stuff too. Clear, not yellow. And not a brand I’d heard of before.
Which basically meant it was fancy as hell.
“Mother’s milk!”
I watched numbly as she poured out two shots into dixie cups.
She handed me mine and I took it. I didn’t want to offend her. Besides, its not like I had to drive home.
I could ride a bike after a drink or two.
Haha.
That was almost funny.
I downed the shot. And the next one she handed me. Then I thanked her and headed back to the floor. Another guy reached out to touch me as I passed his table and I wiggled out of the way, giggling.
Bambi was right.
Mother’s milk was a huge fucking help.
Chapter Twenty
Clay
I sat in the darkest part of the club waiting. I knew she was here. I didn’t want to believe it but I fucking knew it was true.
After all, the private investigator I’d hired had told me so. Even showed me a picture of Nevada tottering around in high heels and a skimpy cocktail waitress uniform.
With too much makeup on her young and pretty fa
ce, she’d looked like a child playing dress up. But her body was all woman. She’d get eaten alive in that outfit.
It had cut me like a knife.
My father and I had gone to the motel, but Dana and Nevada were long gone. The clerk had been unhelpful once again. So had calling around to the other inexpensive places to stay.
It had been weird to see my dad in a place like that. Cheap. Shoddy. But even weirder had been the look of worry on his face.
He actually fucking cared about her.
Like, a lot.
We’d gone home and shared a bottle of booze.
The next day, I’d hired a private detective- with my dad’s blessing.
It had led me here. Nevada was working in a fucking strip joint. Not as a dancer, but still… My blood boiled as I sat there. She wouldn’t take my money, but this was okay?
Half-naked women were everywhere but I barely even saw them. I was looking at the men in the place. Wondering if they’d touched her. Talked to her. Tried anything.
Because if they did, there would be hell to pay.
A girl with her hair pulled back in a chignon came in from the back. She was laughing with one of the strippers. Her long neck and graceful shoulders drew my eye.
I knew her, even in the darkness across a crowded room.
Nevada Jones.
She looked older somehow. Jaded. And that’s before they sent her over to take my order. Before her eyes turned cold and hard as she stared at me.
“What can I get you?”
“Nev, what the fuck are you doing here?”
She looked up from her pad.
“I’m trying to take your order.”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“Do you know what you want? I have other tables to attend to…”
I watched her walk off. I could sit here all night. And the next night.
There was no way I was leaving her alone in a place like this.
Eventually she’d break down and talk to me.
She fucking had to.
Nevada
He was back.
Again.
The second night in a row that Clay sat in the back, away from the stage. And glared at me.
I felt like there were two holes burning into my back as I leant over my table and took the orders of a group of middle-aged business men.
The tequila Barbara kept in the back room was working wonders. I was almost having fun. I even started to enjoy the attention from all these men.
They wanted me.
They desired me.
Me.
Turns out, I could be with a lot of guys if I wanted to. Not just Clay. Not that it was surprising really. But I’d never had real grownups pay me the least attention.
It was heady.
Or maybe that was the tequila talking.
I was sashaying across the bar when he grabbed my arm.
“What the fuck are you doing Nevada? Are you getting off on this?”
The bouncer was over there in an instant.
“Don’t touch the merchandise man.”
I tossed my head and threw Clay a look. I couldn’t stop him from sitting there. But he sure as shit had better behave.
I saw Sheila wave me over while I was filling my drink order.
Sheila was sitting at the bar in one of her kaftans. I liked her. She was a bit vulgar, with her cheap sequined gowns and perpetually full martini glass. But she looked after us girls.
Us girls.
I was already becoming one of them.
We were a fellowship of women. Armed against the world with push up bras and stilettos.
And lipstick.
And hairspray.
And vaseline on your teeth. Who knew?
“Honey it’s a slow night and we are having amateur hour. I thought you might be interested.”
“Oh. Really?”
She grinned at me.
“Sooner or later everyone takes it off. Besides, you’re ready. And I know you would win.”
She made it sound like I had earned her respect somehow. I had passed her test.
“You don’t have to do nothin’ fancy. Just show ‘em your cute little bra and panties. Five hundred bucks is the prize.”
I froze. Five hundred bucks was a lot of money. Besides I wouldn’t be naked. Just, slightly more naked than I currently was.
What was a few flimsy scraps of fabric between friends?
“I saw the way you handled that young buck. I’m impressed. You got the makings of a real career girl here.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Clay. He was nursing a beer and glaring at me. Again.
I turned back to Sheila and smiled.
“Okay. I’ll do it.”
“You have a song in mind?”
I looked back at Clay over my shoulder.
“Yeah. I got it.”
“Alright honey. Well tell the DJ and get your fannie up on that stage!”
“What, right now?”
“You need a minute?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“You got five.”
I ran backstage and told Barbara what was happening. She opened the cap and I swallowed rapidly, drinking straight from the bottle. That must be at least three more shots. Plus the two I’d had at the start of my shift.
I was pretty much going to be shit faced in five, four, three, two-
“Next up on the stage is our very own little cocktail waitress Nevada. Put your hands together!”
Oh shit, they’d used my real name!
Not that it mattered. Not really. My heart was pounding as I heard the slow sensual strains of my song one on. I walked through the backstage area to the heavy velvet curtains. I took a deep breath and stepped through them.
Then I started dancing.
Not like the girls did. No, I just sort of swayed and played with the straps of my uniform. Apparently that was all I had to do because the crowd went wild.
Suddenly I was standing in a shower of singles. I looked down. There were some tens and twenties mixed in as well. Emboldened I slid a strap down over my shoulder, staring coyly into the darkness.
You really could only see the guys sitting closest to the stage.
And I just didn’t look at them at all.
That made it a whole lot easier.
I pulled the other strap down and another shower of money washed over me. Then I turned and shimmied the top of my uniform over my bra.
There, I was practically topless. Hoots and hollers came from everywhere. It was scary but I can’t lie.
It was quite a rush.
Until I felt the hand yanking me off the stage. I stared up, startled. Clay was looking down at me, looking furious. For a minute, I was actually scared by that look.
Right until the bouncer got to him.
Crap.
I watched as Clay was dragged forcibly out of the club.
I ran outside trying to tell Troy not to beat the living shit out of Clay.
I pretty much convinced him after a few choice hits.
The weird thing was, Clay didn’t fight back. That wasn’t like him. He just stared at me, looking deeply wounded.
Judging from the blood trickling out of his mouth, he kind of was.
“Stop it! Stop! I know him!”
Sheila had followed us out.
“Old boyfriend?”
“I’m sorry Sheila. I didn’t tell him I was here.”
She smiled at me sadly.
“That’s okay honey. You take a few days and make sure this is what you really want.”
She patted my shoulder.
“You sure got the looks for it. But if I had a guy that looked like that not wanting me to dance. I wouldn’t dance.”
I glanced at Clay who was staring at me. He wiped his mouth and rubbed the blood on his pants. He looked so fucked up. I knew it was because of me.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.”
His eyes were still dark as he took my air
and propelled me towards his car.
“Wait, my bike!”
“Fuck your bike.”
He ignored me, putting the car into reverse and snarling ‘put your fucking seatbelt on’ as he revved off into the night.
Chapter Twenty One
Clay
I followed the signs to Wright’s beach. It was a camping spot I’d been to a few times with my mother. I don’t know what made me drive all the way to the coast this late at night.
Probably because it was so far away.
I’d driven for an hour to get here.
That’s exactly how long it took me to calm down.
I could still see all those men looking at her. Wanting to touch her. It made the bile rise in my throat.
I pulled into the parking lot and finally looked at her. We hadn’t spoken a word. Not fucking one.
Nev’s arms were wrapped around her as she stared straight ahead.
She was shivering. I cursed. And I’d had the top down during the entire drive.
“Don’t you have anything else to put on?”
She shook her head no.
I felt rage welling up inside me again.
“Are you fucking saying that you biked to the club looking like that?”
Her mouth dropped open. She obviously had no idea the effect she had on men when she was fully dressed. Being half naked was just asking for trouble.
I jumped out of the car and popped the trunk. I had some towels in there I thought… I fished around and grabbed two towels and a sweatshirt. I handed her the sweatshirt. Wordlessly she took it and slipped it over her head.
Then I walk toward the path, glancing over my shoulder at her.
“You coming?”
I heard the car door slam and the click clack of her high heels on the pavement. When we got to the path I turned and hoisted her into my arms. She looked at me in surprise and I shrugged.
“I don’t want you to twist an ankle.”
We were both silent as I carried her down the steep path to the ocean. Out here the beach was wild- craggy outcroppings of rock and swirling rip tides. The moon was bright so we could see the waves. I lay the towel down and lowered her onto it. Then I spread the other towel over her legs.
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