Secret Shopper

by Tanya Taimanglo

  Bradley endured boot camp, while I navigated San Diego solo. Customer evaluation was challenging enough to keep me in motion throughout the day. My best friend for more than half my life, Rachel Untalan was the only person who knew of my loneliness. She owned her own clothing line boutique and was busier every day, but it was early morning on Guam, so I ventured a call.

  “Hello?” Rachel’s voice dripped with sleep.

  “So, guess what Bruce, my boss asked me to do this weekend?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re sleeping with your sixty-five-year old boss!” Rachel yelled, now totally awake.

  “No, dork. Angelica, remember I told you about her? The extra friendly secretary and scheduler at Lure? Well, she and I have a hit on a strip club next weekend.”

  I requested more work, which perhaps translated to Angelica—Lure Company’s only secretary and task master that I would do just about anything. The Tiger Gentlemen’s Lounge needed evaluation. My boss wanted to send females, since evaluations conducted by male secret shoppers were always suspiciously stellar. Angelica was tapped to drag me along, because I was the newbie and would be less likely to say no.

  Angelica had always been overly friendly. I never accepted her invitations for lunch or coffee, that gal pal realm was reserved for Rachel. I never minded having a very tight circle of friends, in my case only room for one, but it was becoming harder to deflect her genuine niceness and concern for me.

  Angelica’s gay cousin, Gerard would get his macho on for the evening and we would escort him. I had to admit I was curious to see what the big deal was with strip clubs. Maybe I could learn pole dancing moves before Bradley came back because that always boosts relationships, at least that’s what Cosmo experts claimed. That’s why I killed my subscription.

  “No, shit? I tried to drag you into one of those here, but you were so frigid! You probably still are.” Rachel said.

  “Yeah, I remember. And, no I’m not! I’m married. Did you really have a research paper on the topic?” I had always been suspicious.

  “No. I heard my second cousin was dancing under the name, Virgin Chi Chi and I wanted to see for myself.” Guam goes totally nude, which is a great tourist attraction I guess. Many strippers are recruited from the mainland, Asia or Europe based on the giant ads in the newspapers I’d see when I was back home. By the time I left Guam, local girls were beginning to make their way into that seedy world, which irked the hell out of the elders. A good Chamorro girl just didn’t do that. “She has two kids now, so I know she’s retired. Shit, who knows.”

  “So, what would be your stripper song, if you were Rachel Raunchy Rockets?” I asked. Her twinkling laughter made me miss her all over again.

  “Good name! Not so prudish then. Well, hmm. How about, Milkshake? And you? Sounds like you’ve already thought of one.” Rachel teased.

  “If I was a stripper in an alternate universe, my stripper name would be ‘Fancy Faith’ and the song would be Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode.” I loved the cowboy sounding guitar licks in the beginning of the song, proper gyration music. The first line of the song made me imagine the moment a dirty old man would touch me and I would Kung Fu kick his arm off. I guess I did put a lot of thought into this. Rachel had a psychology minor; if I chose to share this fantasy with her someday, she could analyze it and tell me what was wrong with me.

  “Ooh, naughty! Well, make sure you wipe the chair you sit on.” Rachel spoke like I was going on my first field trip.

  “My, my. You sound like you’ve had experience in this matter.” Rachel laughed. “A Febreze spritzer before I sit, aye!” I replied.

  Rachel encouraged me to befriend Angelica outside of the office, since she could provide in-person buddy services that Rachel couldn’t offer. Maybe I would because I had my best friend’s blessing. If anything, I was loyal always.

  After our little phone therapy session, I checked my laptop. I wanted to read the evaluation guidelines for the strip club and check out their website. I surfed my usual sites in the usual order, Facebook, e-mail, bank account, and then searched for my stripper song on Youtube. As the melody swirled around me, I did a chicken like dance routine with my computer chair. Naturally, I made sure my blinds were completely shut first. After stubbing my toe on my desk, I retired from in home stripping and settled in to check out the club’s website. The Tiger Gentlemen’s Lounge looked like a classy spot with many hot guys in the audience, instead of the pervy dudes who really frequented such spots. They must have been models, I deduced. I called Angelica that evening and she was ecstatic to meet me for lunch with Gerard to discuss our plan of attack.

  We met at Denny’s since Gerard insisted on using his employee discount. As long as they had good salad choices and I could save a buck, I was happy. Gerard was a beautiful man, Hollywood beautiful. His licorice black hair and hazel eyes were vibrant. His olive skin, flawless. I wished I could be tanner. I was the one who hailed from an island after all. My father being Chamorro was not enough to eclipse the milky skin I inherited from my Korean mother.

  “So, Phoenix, will this be your first time at a strip club?” Gerard asked me excitedly.

  “Never mind me, is this yours?” I asked back.

  “Why, yes it is! I’m excited, but grossed out by it too!” Gerard gave me a friendly slap on my thigh. Angelica smiled and rolled her eyes. “I’ve only really seen a few women naked, my mom, my grandma and beautiful Angelica here!” He declared.

  “I can’t believe you said that, G!” Angelica feigned shock.

  “I don’t even want to know the story.” I added and we all laughed. No, really. I didn’t want to know and was glad when our food arrived.

  Gerard said that next weekend’s strip club visit was his last big hoorah before leaving San Diego. He had recently broken up with his long-time boyfriend and wanted to head to Las Vegas for greener pastures. I didn’t ask him if he knew that Las Vegas was really a desert, but I got his point.

  Angelica was like a warm glove. She was comfortable and easy-going. We didn’t often meet face-to-face, but she showed her heart easily when she added a happy face to sign off her e-mails to me. Angelica was an ethnic sampler like me. She had a Mexican mom—who passed away a year earlier from breast cancer and an Irish-American father—whom she hadn’t seen in the last ten years. She had a bright, pretty face. She was about a size 16, but her curves were in all the right places and she wore her weight well. She always had beautiful blond highlights in her auburn hair and her manicures were perfection. I foresaw a mani-pedi adventure in our future.

  It was the end of July and we set up our sting for ten o’clock on a Saturday night. The warm balmy evening reminded me of home. I was giddy that I fit in my clothes from a year prior. I shimmied into my size 10 jeans and added a cute graphic tee with little pandas. I completed the look with two inch black heels. I didn’t want to be too dressy and Gerard and Angelica coordinated their outfits with mine minus the pandas.

  We parked at the neighboring lot. The orange neon lights of the strip club were retro 80s. The exterior of the club adorned in gaudy black stripes on orange. If the interior had mounted tiger heads I might lose it. I was half right, with the tiger skin theme displayed on the chairs and booth benches. There were three runway aisles and mini-stages, and one large center stage. A beautiful Asian woman with peroxide blond hair was gyrating in a neon green thong and pasties. Her crystal clear stiletto heels looked hazardous and I hoped she had great health coverage. The almost four foot fall to the floor could prove deadly. I could see the headlines already: Asian Stripper Stabbed in the Head and Torso by her own Stripper Shoes.

  Angelica and I were charged with separate reports. I was to evaluate the wait staff specifically and Angelica needed to attack the bar staff. We found a clean corner booth and I quickly scanned my seat for weird stains. Management was smart to have the tiger stripes on the seat for camouflage. I didn’t want to run my hands over the synthetic fur and shivered, imagining the deposits. I could only hope
that gum was the only gross thing under the table tops too. I would just burn my clothes when I got home.

  I was smart enough not to mention this assignment to my parents. The less they knew about my job, the less grief I would receive. I had to tell my kid brother, Pharaoh though. He flipped out and bragged to his brawler buddies that their fantasy job did exist and his sister had it.

  Heavy hip hop music pounded in the background. Ms. Asia Beauty Queen finished her set and the ten or so men present applauded and barked like seals. I was right, these guys looked nothing like the hot men on the website. Bills floated like fall leaves onto the stage and Ms. Asia crouched on the floor to collect her pay out, looking graceful as she did so. I wondered what would compel a woman to do this job, but gathered from media’s fixation on this world that anyone from sexually abused women to girls trying to pay for college to moms with bills did this erotic entertainment. By the looks of the bundles of cash she cradled like a baby, Ms. Asia could definitely pay the bills, and the night was still young.

  Finally, a rock song started and Gerard bopped his head back and forth in an effort to look interested, eager and straight. He put each of his arms on the booth seats to show anyone who cared that he was with Angelica and me. He nearly knocked the top of my head off as he did so. Angelica and I erupted in laughter. Keeping up airs, Angelica would kiss her cousin on the cheek and I would rub his chest. Gerard smelled wonderful, my acting probably looked genuine as I kept my face close to his chest.

  The next dancer strutted on the runway as a Hoobastank song blared. Tigress—as she was introduced by the D.J., was a fine specimen. The way her legs formed pretzels around the pole was intriguing. Our mouths half-open, I wondered out loud if she needed Vaseline to slide so effortlessly on the length of the golden pole. My partners just laughed at me. I later discovered that Tigress was the owner of the club and I was strangely proud of her for that.

  After another hour and five dancers all named after jungle animals, Angelica and I had enough data to do our reports. Before leaving, we asked a group of young fellows to snap a picture of us in front of the neon sign. I immediately sent it to Bradley. I wanted him to know I was having fun without him. I hadn’t heard from him in three days, not even a goodnight text.

  We left the club feeling fat thanks to the gorgeous dancing felines and decided to make matters worse by heading to the Asian smoothie shop for Tapioca pearl drinks. We sat among the crowd of college kids, fitting in, barely. We sucked on our fruity blended boba drinks as we hashed out our new experience. Several times in the tiger booth, Gerard had looked like he was going to be sick from all the boobage he saw. He did declare that the perky butts kept him sane.

  “You’ll like my husband then. He has an awesome bubble butt!” I checked my Blackberry as I thought of Bradley and saw that he had called twice in the last half hour. My picture must have worked. The loud conversations from the wired college group extended to the parking lot, so I sought refuge in my car. Bradley’s message said to call him back as soon as possible, no matter how late. I missed his voice and I called him back right away.

  “Hey, Bradley. It’s Nix. Are you okay?” I was afraid he would tell me he was injured or failed some test and would have to be sent home.

  “Hey, Phoenix. No, I’m fine. I just wanted to talk to you about something. Boot Camp Graduation, actually.” He sounded hoarse. I felt bad for the physical strain he endured. I could hear a few people in the background.

  “Are you out?” I pried. “Did you receive the picture?”

  “What picture? Oh, I got a notification, just didn’t open it. Just a few of us sharing a smoke.” Smoke? All that fitness just to start smoking?

  “You’re smoking? What smoking a pig?” I really hoped that he was.

  “Get serious, Phoenix.” I waited to hear that he missed me, but heard him say, “I don’t want you to come to the ceremony.”

  “Why? Am I not allowed? I swear, I’m not on the terrorist list.” I joked. I began to hyperventilate.

  “Phoenix. Just focus and hear me out.” I hadn’t heard from Bradley in the last three days and now he had something serious to talk about. I got used to his absence and I felt like he was enjoying his vacation from me too much. Three weeks earlier, I noticed that he didn’t say two crucial things to me anymore: “I love you” or “I miss you.” I chalked it up to stress.

  “What is it Bradley? Believe it or not I’m working now.”

  “You are? Isn’t it late? Are you by yourself? Where?” He sounded like my dad. Before I could share my night, he plowed through. “Nevermind. I called because I think we’re done.”

  “Finished with boot camp?”

  “No. Phoenix. You and me. I want out.” His words didn’t sink in. They came out all jumbled like he was talking in a Peanuts cartoon. All I heard was wah-wah-wah. “Phoenix. Are you listening?”

  “So, you’re done with boot camp early, right?” I had a communication glitch and my hearing malfunctioned. I watched a young couple making out.

  “Phoenix. I’m sorry. Let me put this plainly.” I heard a woman’s voice in the background asking for the phone. Bradley muffled the cell phone and yelled back at this familiar voice. “Phoenix. I’ve been meaning to tell you this since before I left for boot camp. I mean, I wasn’t even really sure what I was feeling until just recently, but,” I felt my limbs go numb and panic bubbled in the pit of my stomach. The declaration from Bradley was like a bullet moving in slow motion straight for the space between my eyes.

  “Bradley. Please.” The words floated painfully out of my throat.

  “Phoenix. I’ve been doing a lot of changing in the last few months. And I want us to separate.”

  “Separate? Why? Bradley please tell me. Is it my weight? Because I’ve already lost twenty pounds!” I heard him exhale and I swore I could smell the cigarette smoke.

  “Phoenix, that has nothing to do with it. I’m actually with, well, I’m with someone else now.” The kissing couple realized I was gawking at them and I dropped my eyes.

  “Doesn’t she know you’re married? Who is it?” In the back of my mind I already knew the answer. I wanted him to say it was someone else, anyone else but the person I had suspected long before this conversation happened. Jemima, known as Jem, the most beautiful real estate agent in the east county was always a threat. Real Estate Barbie, I called her once, which made Bradley angrier than warranted. Now, I knew why. The wicked woman who mentored Bradley. The one who suggested that the entire office go out clubbing once a month to “build rapport” when she actually just wanted permission to bump and grind on Bradley. The final stake was when she coerced Bradley into joining the Army reserves with her. I hated women who went after claimed men. They should all be rounded up and have their uteruses removed. Government sanctioned hysterectomies sounds harsh, but my anger sky rocketed.

  “Phoenix. I think you know.” Bastard was going to make me utter the words!

  “No. I don’t. You tell me!” I was on fire. I was suffocating. I needed oxygen and I immediately wanted comfort from Rachel.

  “Phoenix, I’ve been with Jem for the past two months now. I mean it started out with just friendly flirting and stuff, and then I thought it was just physical, but now,” Bradley was really trying to explain the evolution of this sordid affair?

  “Shut up! I don’t need a play by play! Do you love her or me?” I was yelling into the phone now.

  “I’ll always love you, Phoenix.” Bradley whispered. “We’ve been together for ten years. Of course, I’ll always love you.”

  “Bull. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have an affair! So, what? You want a divorce?”

  “No, not necessarily.” What was I hearing? Bradley didn’t want me, but he didn’t want a divorce?

  “Please, Bradley. Don’t play games with me. You’ve already had the affair. Next logical step is a divorce. I don’t want to be anyone’s ex-wife. That’s not what I imagined when we married.” Tears welled in my eyes.


  “Phoenix, I can’t ask you to wait for me while I figure this shit out. All I know is I’m going through some stress and I care about you, but I am having these feelings for Jem.” There was a finality to his words and I felt defeated, so I came out swinging.

  “Well, crap, don’t let me stand in your motherhumping way.” I was cursing like a sailor now, sort of.

  “Phoenix. I knew you wouldn’t understand.” Did Hilary understand when it got out that someone else sucked her husband’s presidential lollipop? Outside of the glare of the media, I’m sure she went ballistic too.

  “I don’t understand you! Love is absolute. You can’t have your thingee swinging from here to there. It needs to land somewhere and when you decide, I might not be there to accept it. You’re filth to me right now.” My words exploded like fireworks. I had to concentrate so I wouldn’t beg him to come back to me. I wanted him back already and I hated myself for that.

  “Well, all I know is that I don’t want us to call it quits on our marriage. I would feel better if you tried dating someone else.” Was he serious?

  “Two wrongs don’t make a right, Bradley.” I countered trying to sound even keeled.

  “I know, but who is the guy in the picture? He seems nice.” He finally saw the picture of me and Angelica hanging on Gerard outside of the club.

  “No. You don’t know, or else you wouldn’t be trying to pimp your wife out to someone else. Gerard would be more into you than me anyway! We were doing reports at a strip club! Did you even read the message with the picture! You need to think about what you say before you put it out there. And as for Jem, you better get checked, she might have fleas and if you think I would let you touch me after the stunt you just pulled. Thank Buddha, I forced you to wear a condom before you left!”