by Robin Roseau
I felt tears sliding down my cheeks. I hadn't expected that.
The audience was still. The club was as quiet as it ever was. Then I heard footsteps behind me, then hands on my shoulders. They startled me, but I looked, and Poppy was standing there, smiling. But she saw the tears, and she leaned forward to wrap her arms around me the way I had the imaginary musician.
And then someone began to applaud.
I let Poppy pull me to my feet, but I bent down and collected my shoes. Then she helped me towards the curtain, a warm arm thrown over my shoulder.
* * * *
Evaline found me in the downstairs dressing room ten minutes later. I was sitting in the chair in front of the makeup counter, staring at myself in the mirror. I'd cleaned up the tears, although I didn't know how to fix the damage I'd caused to the makeup. I didn't even try. But I had managed to find all the pins holding the hat in place, and it was sitting on the counter beside the cane.
Behind me, the doors opened and closed. I didn't have to turn to know who it was. The demon had her own pace, and I recognized her tread. Then she came into view in the mirror behind me. I didn't turn but watched her in the mirror as she came to a stop behind me.
"Who was it playing the piano with you?" she asked gently.
"My grandmother," I said. "She died when I was eleven."
"I'm sorry. Was she a good pianist?"
"The best," I said. "She tried to teach me, but I was never very good. I had other interests, I guess. After she died, I wished I had been a better student."
Evaline put her hands on my shoulders.
"I think I ruined the makeup you did. I don't know how to fix it."
"Are you all right, Teigan?"
"I'm fine," I said. "I guess thinking about Grandma was more emotional for me than I expected. She used to play that piece. She loved George Winston." I looked down at my hands. I was clutching them together, wringing them. "Am I in default?"
"Excuse me?" Evaline asked.
I looked up into the mirror. "Am I in default of our agreement?"
"Because of how you danced? You put yourself out there, Teigan. That was raw and honest. No, you are not in default. I loved it. But you know you have to do something different for your other sets."
"It wasn't what you were expecting."
"No, and it's not the normal sort of dance this club sees." I laughed at that.
"The audience hated it."
"No, they did not."
"They want to be titillated."
"Perhaps." Evaline reached forward and slipped her fingers under my chin, drawing my head so I was looking over my shoulder at her. Our gazes met. "Now they know you're human. But they also know to set their expectations aside for your next piece."
I nodded. "What are you going to make me wear?"
"Come on," she said. She collected the hat and cane, and I followed her back to the wardrobe. As I had before, I waited in the doorway. Evaline put the hat and cane away then collected the tuxedo jacket and gloves.
"Keep the shoes," she said. Then she smiled, disappeared into the depths for a moment, and when she returned, she was holding a bright pink trench coat and a long, pink wig. I stared at the wig.
"You're kidding."
She grinned. She handed me the jacket and wig then gestured. We returned to the makeup station. I set the things aside and resumed my seat. Evaline spent a few minutes repairing the makeup and a little longer than that on the wig. When she finally let me look in the mirror, I didn't recognize myself.
Not only was the hair shocking, both in its color and it's length, but she had used pink makeup on my face. My lips were bright pink, and she had painted my eyelids pink. Both matched the hair.
I stared. "You have a wicked sense of humor."
"Wait until you hear the music, Lacey," she said with a grin.
"Oh god."
Then she set a hand on my shoulder. "It's not horrible. Actually, I think you're going to be amused when you figure it out. I wonder how quickly you think on your feet. But you've had enough hints." She helped me to my feet and into the trench coat, tightening it around my waist with the belt but not fastening any buttons. Then she studied me.
"Lacey," she said, "I want you to at least attempt to earn some tips."
"No one is going to want me to do the sorts of things they pay tips for."
"I consider it a portion of our agreement that you will try."
I sighed. "Do they even tip the women on ladies' night?"
"Of course. Do you think Naomi and Hyacinth dance for free?"
"You don't pay them?"
"I do, but they make far more from tips than they do from me."
"What about Poppy?"
"The dancers share their tips with her," she replied. "If you make any, you should give her ten percent."
"I've got a dime somewhere," I replied. The demon didn't rise to the bait.
* * * *
I should have guessed. I didn't, but I should have.
I stood in place. Poppy announced me. The curtain opened. And the beginning of "The Pink Panther" began to play.
I froze, thinking madly about how to play this. I knew about the Pink Panther cartoons, but I never enjoyed them, and I couldn't remember a single one. But as much as they were before my time, I remembered the Peter Sellers movies. I thought about Inspector Clouseau and his bumbling ways through his cases.
The demon had a sense of humor.
I turned furtive. I began by dashing behind the curtain, then slowly sticking my head out. I pulled back, hiding for a heartbeat, then slowly looked out again as if I were afraid of being seen.
Poppy had almost reached the curtains. I jumped out and held my hand out in the universal "stop" sign. She froze, and I moved a little closer. Then I held my hand up as if I were holding something by the handle and peered through it. I imagined a large magnifying glass. I looked through it at the back of my hand, hamming it up, before turning to Poppy. I began to examine her.
She laughed.
I walked around her, looking at her through the imaginary magnifying glass, but I finally got to her front and zoomed in on her chest. I moved very close before jumping back as if I were startled by what I had found.
The audience laughed. A few women yelled bawdy comments regarding Poppy's fine attributes. Someone yelled, "Look closer, Inspector Clouseau!"
So I did just that, alternating between expressions of bewilderment and bedazzlement.
I earned more laughter, and Poppy earned more compliments.
But then I stepped aside with a gesture. Poppy smiled and stepped past me, turning to face me as she did so until she backed between the opening between the curtains.
Once she was gone, I used my imaginary magnifying glass, looking for clues and pantomiming what I was finding. The audience spent much of the time laughing with comments coming from here and there what clues I should look for. I reached the end of the catwalk, still looking for clues to The Murder.
I glanced at the demon. She wasn't smiling. But she had a crisp twenty-dollar bill, and she was tapping it on edge against the table. I stared at it for a moment.
She expected me to work for tips, not laughs.
I nodded to her. Message received.
I straightened and put the magnifying glass in the pocket of the trench coat before wiping imagined sweat from my brow. I clasped the belt of the coat and began to slowly untie it. I gently swayed to the music, turning this way and that, as I loosened the belt. Then, even more slowly, I released the few buttons. Then, working it slowly, I let the trench coat open in front.
The audience turned raucous. I wasn't going to please them the way the other dancers had, but if I could tease them, that was a start.
I let the coat gape open. I wasn't all that sparsely dressed underneath, but I also wasn't dressed in a fashion I'd normally let be seen in public, either.
And it was frilly.
I glanced at the demon. She was pointedly frowning, an eyebrow r
aised, and she was still tapping the twenty on the table.
Yeah, yeah. I knew I wasn't going to earn tips just by showing a little lingerie. Even a bunch of horny men wouldn't pay me for that.
But I thought if I entertained the women, a few would tip me, and so I sought to be entertaining.
I turned away, pulling out the magnifying glass again. I peered through it, moving away from the demon, until I came to a sudden stop.
A clue!
I followed the clue down to the floor, lowering myself to my knees and one hand, peering through it closely. I crawled to the edge of the stage, examining the clues, then came to another stop. I sat back, following the clue to my knee, then up my body. I let the coat fall open further, and I followed the clue until I was looking at my own chest. I frowned, then went through a pantomime of trying to find my breasts.
I gestured how small they were, earning more laughs. I didn't bother looking at the demon. I knew she wasn't impressed.
But I looked out at the audience. I had picked my path carefully, and there was a table of four women immediately in front of me. They were well-lubricated by now, but even more importantly, two of them were clutching money in their hands. They weren't waving it to me, but at least if they decided to tip me, they had cash at their ready disposal.
They looked like older housewives. Not old, but older than I was. Perhaps they were high powered executives, but they weren't dressed like it.
I looked through the magnifying glass at them. Then I rolled over to slip my feet off the edge of the stage and slipped down onto the main floor of the club.
I made a point of investigating the four of them very carefully. Around me, the women were yelling encouragement. "You go, Lacey!" and "A clue! A clue!" The four women swiveled their heads around, watching me as I worked my way around them.
One of the women was laughing, and she was at the edge of the table, her chair turned to face the stage. There was enough room for me to move directly in front of her. She looked up at me, and I inspected her slowly.
I got closer and closer. When she didn't stop me, I put one knee on her chair alongside her legs, then I climbed up onto her lap, straddling her.
Around me, the women were yelling, but I stopped paying attention to them. I focused everything I had on the woman in front of me.
She had stilled, staring up at me, her lips parted. She had her drink in her hands, and she took a sip from it, her eyes lowering from mine, but that meant she was staring at my chest instead.
I reached up and took the drink from her, holding it out to the side. One of her friends took it from me. Then I collected the woman's hands, holding her by her wrists, and I moved her hands inside the trench coat until they were resting on my hips.
Then I made a show of inspecting her through the magnifying glass, looking quite closely, quite closely indeed, ending at her chest. I reared back at that, then pantomimed how big her chest was and how small mine was.
That earned more raucous laughter along with a few calls commiserating with me.
I didn't stay any longer, sliding off the woman's lap. She didn't tip me, but she licked her lips, and I thought I'd managed to tease her a little.
I turned away and began moving through the club, trying to put on a frustrated look. But then I heard a woman call out, "Lacey!" I turned, and she was pointing to one of her tablemates. "She looks guilty!"
And the woman in question was holding cash in her hand. I'd just been asked to give a lap dance.
I would have say I began to blush, but I knew I was already flushed, and I don't think it could get any worse.
But I moved towards the woman in question. But instead of climbing into that woman's lap, I climbed into the lap of the woman who had called to me.
Her tablemates gave her a hard time.
The woman looked a little frustrated that her ploy hadn't worked. But her hands moved inside my coat without any encouragement. They settled onto my hips, but as I began to look through the glass at her, letting the hair of the wig brush over her as I did so, she reached further and clasped my ass.
"You're very naughty," I said directly into her ear. "I think perhaps you're the guilty one."
"I might be naughty, but I don't feel at all guilty for it," she replied. But then I felt her slide a couple of bills inside the back waistband of the dance tights.
I'd made my first tip!
"Thank you," I told her. Then I slid from her lap. I turned to move on, but she captured my wrist. I turned back to her.
"Aren't you going to arrest me?"
I smiled, caressed her cheek, and then bent down to whisper into her ear. "Maybe next time." But I kissed her cheek before I left her.
I actually made a few more tips as I worked the room. I didn't know the music that well, and so when it ended, it was awkward for me. I was just beginning to tease one of the women who had been waving money at me. She was clearly inebriated, and I hoped she wasn't driving. But the music ended, and I froze.
The woman looked at me in frustration. I patted her cheek, told her, "I guess you get off, this time," and began to slip away.
"Apparently not this time!" she called out to me. Those who heard both of us laughed loudly.
By the time I made it to the stage, Poppy was waiting for me. I came to a stop in front of her, but then I stepped up to her, grabbed her wrists, and moved her hands into the air. Then I made a show of patting her down. The audience laughed and offered encouragement. "Make sure she isn't hiding something down her chest!"
I stepped behind her and acted as if I were handcuffing her. But then someone yelled, "Don't arrest Poppy. Everyone knows she could get away with murder!"
I considered then released her wrists. I gave her a quick hug from behind, and then I strode off the stage.
* * * *
The demon found me back in the dressing room. "How much did you make?"
I didn't look at her. "Sixteen bucks." Then I glanced up at her to judge her reaction.
I thought she might belittle me. She didn't. Instead she stepped closer and began to remove the pins holding the wig. It wasn't until she was removing the old makeup that I asked her, "Aren't you going to say anything?"
"About what?"
"Did I give you what you wanted?"
"You were very entertaining." She didn't look entertained.
"You're mad."
"You played for laughs."
"Oh, please," I said. "How else could I have played that?"
She pursed her lips and began applying fresh makeup to my face. I held still and let her do what she wanted. She didn't take long, and I looked at myself in the mirror. She'd given me bright red lips and dark eyes. The effect was a little garish. I said so.
"It will look different at distance under stage lights," she said.
I looked at myself in the mirror. The demon had moved to stand behind me again, her hands resting on my bare shoulders.
"I don't know what you want from me."
"Your last set will be as part of the finale along with everyone else. This is your last solo set. I will be annoyed if you play for more laughs."
I didn't say anything about that. Instead I asked, "Why did Karen teach me about the pole if there isn't a pole out there?"
"There will be one for this set. Use it or not as you see fit."
"It's portable?"
"It descends from the ceiling and then locks into a socket built into the stage floor." Then she took one of my hands and examined the nails. She tsk-tsked at the sorry state.
"I'm a cop," I said.
"You chew them."
"No."
"They're ragged."
"I tear them. I don't chew them. That's a disgusting habit."
"So is tearing them."
"Everyone has bad habits," I observed. "I'd say tearing my nails is a much smaller bad habit than drugs."
There was a glimmer of a smile. "I suppose that's true. You have a spa appointment tomorrow. My driver will retrieve you
from your home at 12:30. Be showered and ready to go when he arrives. He will take you to the spa, where you will allow them to do anything to you they want. The driver will return you home afterwards. He will have your clothes for the evening. When I arrive precisely at 7:00, you will be wearing exactly what he has given you, no more, no less."
"Are you feeding me?"
"Yes. You will behave as if this is a date, as if you are pleased to be out with me. You will strive to have a nice time but not in a fashion designed to give me a bad date. Am I clear?"
"Yes. You didn't answer my question earlier."
"You thought fast," she replied. "I wondered what you would do. But this time, if you play for a single laugh..." She trailed off, frowning.
"What?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "Teigan, I do not want to feel like you are in default. I really don't."
I watched her for a moment before replying. "I'll do my best, but you know it's going to look like a farce."
"If you do not give me the dance I want..." she trailed off again, shaking her head.
"I'll do my best, but if you're disappointed, what do you want?"
It was her turn to study me. When she didn't say anything, I continued. "I'll accept your judgment if you promise to be fair."
"Will you?" I nodded. "All right. I don't know what I want, and so if I am disappointed, I will save it, and at some point in the future, I will ask you for something, and you will say 'Yes'."
"It can't be an official favor."
"It won't be."
"Or illegal."
"It won't be."
"Or immoral."
"Whose morality?" she asked. "There are people who believe it is deeply immoral for a woman to sleep with another woman."
"No one gets hurts."
"All right," she said. "I wouldn't have asked, but all right."
We then stayed like that for a minute or two, looking at each other in the mirror, the demon's hands on my shoulders. I found it comforting. I think we both wanted to say something, but I couldn't have told you what was on my mind.
But finally she spoke instead. "Do you hate me?"
"Why would I hate you?"
"I'm making you do this."
"I am going to be mortified if this gets back to the station. And I haven't seen what you're about to make me wear."