Dog Gone And Dead

by Colleen Mooney

  “I think some are gyms or maybe strip clubs,” I said.

  “We looked at those drives you gave Mike and started to think it might be boat slips but one had a number that doesn’t match a slip. It was PBM9999,” she said, “and there’s no slip in the Pensacola Beach Marina with that number.”

  “That’s because it was the end of the pier for big boats that can’t fit into a regular slip, like a guest slip,” I said. It was where Daniel had docked In Your Dreams.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Officer Bev left, Jiff and I decided to drive over the bridge into Destin, rent a jet ski and hang out on Crab Island. This was a popular site for motor boats, jet skis or sailboats that could lift their keels. Crab Island wasn’t an island at all but a shallow area boats all came to drop anchor and party. The water was about three feet deep so you could stop, get out, take a swim to cool off and walk around to meet friends on other boats. It was a giant, waist deep, water party. There was even a party barge that came prepared to grill fish sandwiches or hamburgers to sell for anyone who didn’t pack a picnic lunch.

  We could see what looked like fifty boats all at anchor and floating in the area on the north side of the bridge as we drove over it into Destin. A marina at the foot of the bridge rented jet skis and jet boats. Jiff rented one that looked like a glorified jet ski we both could get into and sit on seats rather than riding one behind the other. The jet boat allowed us to bring our picnic lunch with us. The principal of propulsion was the same as a jet ski.

  I had packed sliced apples, celery, Monterey Jack cheese, crackers and some mixed nuts in separate plastic, snack-size bags, along with beer and wine in our small cooler. It wasn’t much of a lunch, more of a big enough snack to hold us until dinner.

  By the time we were underway in our jet boat, Jiff relaxed and started to smile and enjoy himself. He had me a bit worried because he wasn’t happy about the all-male review, even though I said, it technically wasn’t a strip club. I said I wouldn’t like it if he was going to a Gentlemen’s Club, but I trusted him. I reminded him I was there to get information, to look but not touch. He said he didn’t sign on for me to look either.

  We took a short ride from the marina out to the Gulf on the south side of the bridge. The waves were breaking at the channel opening and tossed us around a little. We decided to do what we came for and that was to hang out at the party flotilla to relax.

  We putted in so as not to create a wake and found a spot near the party barge grilling fish sandwiches and hamburgers. It also was the area sound system and one Jimmy Buffet song after another blasted from the enormous speakers they had rigged on the barge. I overheard one guy on the boat next to us ask loudly if anyone with a boat owned any other CDs besides Buffet’s. About ten people in earshot all answered “NO” at the same time.

  Two labs were swimming around from boat to boat as if they had been appointed the welcome wagon. I worried they were tired and had no place to rest since their feet didn’t hit the bottom. Then I saw one stop paddling his back feet and they sank to touched the bottom while he rested his front paws on the side of a boat. After a few minutes he took off swimming again. Finally, I saw both dogs swim back to the owner’s boat. It had a wooden seat at water level so people could sit and the dogs could climb up and hop into their boat.

  We walked around in the waist deep water, cooling off, drinking a glass of wine. I cut it off at one glass, because wine in the heat makes me sleepy and I had a long night ahead of me.

  “Do you feel sufficiently sunburned by now?” Jiff asked as we wadded back to our two-man jet boat. We had gone through all the snacks, several bottles of water I packed and half of the bottle of Pinot Grigio we brought.

  “Yes. I think we ought to head back. I saw a little seafood joint on the pier next to where we rented this boat. We could have an early dinner. There was a crowd there when we left the dock,” I said. “That usually means they have good food.”

  “Good idea. I’m a little hungry, but I really didn’t want to eat a fish sandwich from the party barge. Those dudes are all wasted from all the beer I watched them consume. Who knows how long that fish has been in the heat.”

  “I wonder how they are going to get back to their dock?”

  “Not our problem,” Jiff said. “That’s what the Coast Guard gets paid big bucks for. I don’t think they will call for help since the Coast Guard can fine them for a DUI, same as in a vehicle, or to tow them in. Staying right where they are would not be a bad place to sleep it off.”

  We walked next door to where we turned in our boat and waited for a table. It was an unpainted wood building with a screen area that separated the kitchen from the area where you walked in and placed your order. The kitchen was small but the menu was unbelievable. There was an enormous blackboard packed with anything you could want to eat. You could get any type of fish, crabs or shrimp made any way you liked—fried, grilled or boiled.

  “What a find,” Jiff said to me while he read the menu.

  The line moved rather quickly and it smelled divine with the boiling spices mixing with the mouthwatering smell of fish frying. The kitchen was the only part of the establishment that could be secured. It was approximately fifteen feet by thirty feet with screens all the way around. Big wooden plank shutters were raised to let the fresh air flow in and the food smells flow out. It appeared to have running water because there were big sinks but the cooking was all done on moveable propane burners.

  I ordered a grilled grouper sandwich and Jiff got a fried soft-shell crab sandwich. I noticed they were served on giant buns as a tray of orders went by us. We took our number and waited for a table to open up. All the tables were outside along two parallel piers connected at the ends. The piers were about ten feet apart and the middle allowed you to look down at the sea life passing underneath. I saw crabs, a needle fish, several minnows, small shiny fish, and a small ray, locally called a Skate swim by. There were barnacles all up and down the pilings under water.

  Boats could come up and dock on the lower level piers connected by three or four steps to the restaurant level pier. We waited a few minutes until a picnic table with an umbrella opened up. We sat in the shade watching the sun dropping in the sky. A young girl brought our order in plastic baskets with the best sweet potato fries I think I’ve ever had.

  Two seagulls who had been circling the piers landed on the rail nearest our table and stared at us. A waitress would shoo them off the rail when she passed, but they floated overhead and returned as soon as she walked away. As other diners finished and left taking their trays, the gulls kept an eye on our plates hoping we’d leave them something.

  Several signs on the handrails where the birds were perched and on placards on the tables instructed us NEVER FEED THE BIRDS! A smaller inscription on the table placards instructed us further to bus our trays to the exit area. Sorry birds.

  On the way back to the condo Jiff said he was worrying more and more over tonight. He thought the whole thing was a bad idea. I believed he really meant he was worrying more and more over me ogling nearly nude men dancing provocatively as the bad idea.

  “How many single gals do you think go to these male dance clubs?” I asked.

  “More than I care to think about,” Jiff said.

  “A lot,” I said. “That means I’ll just blend in with all the others.”

  Jiff rolled his eyes and said, “This isn’t like going to the theatre where you sit back, watch a performance, then applaud. This is going to be more like those wrestling matches you see on TV. I don’t think you are going to blend in at all. That’s what scares me.”

  Jess knocked on the door of the condo precisely at nine-thirty p.m. She wore makeup, an unbuttoned man’s white dress shirt with a lacy tank top under it that showed a lot of cleavage, and a blue jean mini skirt. I didn’t think anyone sold the big, dangling earrings she wore anymore. Her brunette, dark hair was styled to hang loose on her shoulders. I almost didn’t recognize her from the bar. Her look in
the bar had her in comfortable clothes, no makeup with hair pulled up and pinned to keep her neck cool.

  “Wow, you look great,” I said and shot her the look to notice Jiff sitting at the bar in the condo.

  “Thanks,” was all she said, picking up on not returning a compliment.

  “I’m ready, just let me grab my purse.”

  “Hey Jiff, I’ll have her home in a couple of hours. We just need to hook up with Hot Rod and hear what he has to tell us. He doesn’t want to risk too many phone calls.”

  Don’t say hook up, I thought. Jiff was being as nice as he could be. I could tell he was not happy about me going to a male strip club…correction…all male review, and leaving him home, alone.

  “I’ll be back before you know it,” I said and gave him a hug and a kiss. “Let’s go.”

  “She’ll be home and looking for love,” Jess said laughing as we walked out.

  Stop talking, I mentally put my hand over her mouth.

  At the car she said, “You look nice, I didn’t want to say too much in front of your boyfriend.”

  “Thanks.” I had on a white leather halter top and a black pair of linen pants.

  “Here, this is a purple color hair spray, use some on your hair. Just put one or two stripes around your face. That looks best,” she said handing me a can of something.

  “I don’t want to put that in my hair. What if I can’t get it out?”

  “It washes out. We’ll stop in the ladies’ room at a gas station and you can use it in there. You don’t want anyone to recognize you, right? That will help. It’s out of character for you but most of the women in there will have something like this going on.”

  “Okay,” I said and she handed me earrings that looked like the lost cousins to hers.

  “Put those on.”

  “Why? I’m wearing earrings.”

  “Yours look like diamond studs and I’m trying to get you to blend in more with the way the rest of the audience will look,” Jess said.

  “Why? Are we dancing on stage too?”

  “No, this is an all-male club, you know that.”

  “That was a joke,” I said.

  We stopped at a gas station on the way and I streaked my blonde hair with purple hair spray and Jess had a can of pink she put in hers. On the way back to the car, she pulled out a bunch of bangle bracelets for me to put on. She gave me some big, flashy, rings to wear and had a pair of very large framed eyeglasses she wanted me to put on.

  “Are these someone’s prescription glasses? How will I see?”

  “No, they were mine but when the lens got too weak, I changed them out to Transition lens. These go from clear to sunglasses—no prescription. I wear contacts now but I liked the frames and use them as sunglasses. They cost a fortune.

  “I bet they did. These are Jimmy Choo frames,” I said looking at them closely. I couldn’t help thinking if he makes super expensive shoes, why wouldn’t he make super expensive frames for eyeglasses?

  “The frames will be clear inside and they’re super comfy.”

  “Yeah, they are comfy,” I said putting them on. “I might have to look into getting a pair of these.” Then I thought she probably paid as much for these as I pay in rent every month.

  “If anyone shines a light in your face they will start to darken. Not that I think anyone would recognize you in that get-up. Fluff up your hair and put on more lipstick. Do you have any that’s red?”

  “No.”

  “Look in my purse. There’s a clear cosmetic bag with some in it. The name is Light My Fuego. Use it,” she said pulling into the parking lot.

  There it was. Big Al’s World Famous All Male Review—Buns So Tight—You Wanna Take a Bite! That was written all over a shipping container situated at an angle at the front of the lot adjacent to the street so you couldn’t miss it. The building was lit up in white lights, around the door, around the roof, around the shipping container, everywhere.

  “This looks like someone put Hollywood in a Trailer Park,” I said.

  “All celebrities have trailers on movie sets. Hollywood already is a Trailer Park,” Jess said. “Look, when we get in there, it will be loud and hard to talk. Text me if you need to tell me something really important.”

  “How will we hear Rod?” I asked.

  “He gets close enough for you to hear him,” Jess smiled a wicked smile. “Don’t worry, you’ll hear him or anyone who wants to talk to you.” She used the finger quote thing when she said talk. “But text any question on your phone you want to ask Rod. Be brief and let him see it. He’ll tell you the answer in your ear. Keep your phone in your lap but tone down the backlight. If any of the security guys come nosing around, turn it over in your lap or use the flashlight app like you’re looking for something you dropped on the floor. Women do that all the time in there.”

  “Okay.” Jess started to open her car door. “Wait,” I said. “What if I have to give some guy a tip, I mean, how do I give one of the dancers a tip? What is the protocol for that?”

  “Just throw it at them, hand it to them or stick it in their G-string if they point at it.”

  “I don’t want to stick money in anything. How about I give it to you to put in their, in their…whatever?”

  “No, that won’t work. You’ll look like a weirdo or something.”

  “I don’t want to accidently touch…touch them or…touch anything,” I said.

  “Don’t worry about that. They want you to touch them. These are male strippers, not women. They,” (she pointed at Big Al’s building with both index fingers) “want us” (she pointed at the two of us) “to touch them” (she pointed with both index fingers below her waist). Its women strippers who don’t want any bozo grabbing them.

  “These guys can handle themselves if some patron starts to get rowdy, even if it’s a really, really, big gal,” Jess said and laughed at me. “All the women in there want to jump these guys, so act like that or you’re gonna stand out. Besides, wait until you see the bouncers. They can pick somebody up with one hand.”

  “Wait, I don’t want to touch anyone and I don’t want anyone touching me,” I said. She locked the car and headed for the entrance.

  “Here we go,” she said waving her hand in a circle over her head ignoring me.

  We made our way past a line of women giving us the evil eye waiting to get in to the bouncer’s checkpoint. I was about to pull out the cover charge when Jess shook her head no. She leaned in close to the guy and said something in his ear and then she tapped to the clipboard in his hand. The guy at the door was very big, six foot six at least, had a bald head, which I think is a thing right now. He was muscular, his arms were covered in those razor blade looking tats, which I also think is a thing right now. His hands looked like he could palm a basketball, or someone’s head, even if it was a really, really big head. This must have been what Jess meant when she said these dudes can pick someone up with one hand. This guy was a big, scary man.

  It took him a few seconds to find Jess’ name, even after she looked at the clipboard with him, found her name and finally pointed it out to him. There must have been a notation because after he saw her name his face came up looking marginally less bored than he did when we walked up. He removed the velvet rope to let us pass, reconnected it and said, “Right this way, ladies. There’s a reserved table for you up front.”

  Was this guy new? He didn’t seem to recognize Jess and I thought all Big Al’s employees knew each other. I’d have to ask her or text her. That could wait. First, I wanted to meet this Hot Rod guy and get the info he wanted to relay back to Bev, and then leave.

  Once inside, I had to watch where I was going. It was dark in there except for the colored lights that were zipping around in crazy circles from the ceiling and moving like mini search lights. A light would momentarily stop, light a six-inch circle on the floor in front of me, and then, zip, it was gone and it was dark again. The music was at a normal level to allow the waiters to take drink orders and for
Jess and me to have limited conversation. It required leaning into each other and raising our voices but we could still hear each other.

  Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a waiter headed our way with two glasses of champagne on his tray. I thought it might be Hot Rod. When he started to put them down in front of us, I wasn’t paying attention to him and was looking for my iPhone in my purse. I noticed he was wearing Lycra tuxedo pants, no shirt, and a white collar with a bow tie. His body appeared to be spray tanned.

  “Good evening, Ladies, my name is Joe and I’ll be your waiter until it’s time for me to dance and entertain you. These are compliments of Hot Rod,” he said.

  I started to look up at him as he was setting down our drinks but never got past his six pack. Even though I’ve spent my fair share of time in a gym, I had never seen a body like his. I watched him walk away from our table. His body was perfect. It felt like someone turned on the heat in here. I was having one of those impure thoughts the nuns were always warning us about in the catholic school. I started thinking I’d have no qualms about putting a bill in that guy’s G-String.

  After he left Jess leaned over and said, “I bet you’re sorry you didn’t bring more twenties, right?”

  “Wait. What? If that’s the guy everyone gives twenty-dollar bills to, I can see why? He’s like a Greek god.”

  “And more. Wait until you see him dance. I wanna give him a twenty for just walking up to our table,” she said still looking in the direction he walked off in.

  “Is there an ATM machine in here?” I asked looking around.

  “No, you have to come prepared. Bev warned you.”

  I thought I had at least one twenty in my wallet I didn’t tell Jiff about. He sent me on my mission with about thirty or so one-dollar bills I thought I could exchange for a twenty at the bar. He said he would count them when I got back. Funny guy. He’d faint if he knew I was looking for twenties in my wallet right now.