by Jonas Saul
He didn’t have to wait long. A tall black girl wearing a purple lace bra and panties approached him.
“Ya wanna dance, honey?” The dancers were on him before the waitress.
“No, a coffee would work though.”
“I’m not a fucking waitress,” she mumbled and was off to the next table.
Caffeine in his blood stream was a requirement before he attempted to talk to anybody. He needed a clear mind, one not subdued by lack of sleep.
The only woman in the club that wasn’t dressed like a dancer sat at the bar on his right. He waited until she turned his way and then signaled her with a wave of his hand. She got up and approached.
“What’ll it be?” she asked.
“Coffee.”
She walked away, her hips swaying, as though hoping she was hot enough to elicit a tip.
It was a world Aaron couldn’t get into, a world he didn’t understand. Sure he was male and all that goes with that, but random pussy was never his thing. He couldn’t desire a girl just because she showed him her wares.
He rationalized that it was the same as meeting a girl in the library. What if she was sweet, kind and had a great sense of humor? They decide to go for a coffee or even dinner and then she drops her shirt and exposes her breasts, asking him if he still wanted to go for dinner. It was degrading and unnecessary.
He was under no illusion that the dancers were exposing themselves in the hopes of acquiring a date, but the analogy worked for him because that’s how he felt about a woman’s beauty. It was to be seen and treasured by the man who loved them, not to be shown off for a cheap thrill.
Men were visual. Aaron understood this. But a gorgeous calf muscle exposed from under a pretty dress or a hot smile mixed with long, flowing hair was what captured his attention. There was nothing remotely interesting to him about a room filled with women disrobing and offering lap dances for twenty bucks or whatever it cost.
The waitress set his coffee down and mumbled something. Blind Melon had ended, and the emaciated girl on stage cavorted naked to Def Leppard’s Love Bites. The volume was so loud he didn’t hear the waitress.
He handed her a five dollar bill. She took a moment to spill his change on the table.
He leaned up and spoke loud. “Do you know Joanne Stevens, my sister?”
The waitress stopped her fiddling with the coins on her tray and glanced at him. Something flickered across her eyes in that moment.
She knows something. She’s seen something.
The waitress set the rest of his change on the table beside his coffee.
“Nice girl. But I haven’t seen her in almost a week.”
She made to walk away. Aaron grabbed her wrist to hold her a moment longer.
“I’m asking because I haven’t seen her in almost four days. Were you working the last night she danced? Can you tell me anything about her?”
The woman stared at Aaron’s hand until he released her. She met his eyes.
“Don’t ever touch me again. The bouncers don’t like that sort of thing.” She collected herself, adjusted her shirt, and moved her tray—all gestures of nervousness. “Joanne never talked about a brother.”
“We haven’t spoken to one another since she started working here.”
The waitress nodded and backed away. “Sorry, can’t help you.”
She spun around and headed toward the bar.
Folley had said others had disappeared that day too, but Aaron had forgotten to ask what he meant by that.
That’ll teach you to stay up all night. You can’t think straight.
A short woman in her thirties approached him, a fake smile creasing her lips. She sat in the chair opposite him and put her hand on his right leg.
Aaron jumped and moved his leg away.
“Sorry,” she said and started to get up.
He put a hand on her forearm. “No, stay, it just surprised me. I don’t get touched often.”
She eased back into her chair, a weird expression on her face. Then he understood.
“What I mean is, I don’t get touched unexpectedly that often. Usually I’m more prepared. It just made me jump. It was nothing.” He lifted his coffee to test it.
Not bad for a strip club.
She applied her fake smile again. “You wanna buy me a drink?”
“You wanna answer a couple of questions for me?”
Her face turned serious. “You a cop?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“What kinda questions?”
“How about I buy you a drink and you’ll see. Only answer what you feel comfortable answering. Deal?”
She looked around the club. Probably examining her prospects and finding only slim pickings as it was still before five in the afternoon. She nodded, her eyes showing the pain of years of abuse. His heart sank.
Joanne, this life is so not you.
“Gin and tonic.”
She leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs and set her purse on the table beside his coffee.
Aaron found the waitress two tables away from the bar, talking to one of the bouncers. He waited until she looked his way to motion for her.
For a strip club that’s only got maybe fifteen men in it, the waitress is lazy. She should be working the tables, passing the drinks out and raking up the tips.
The bouncer and the waitress looked at Aaron at the same time, the kind of look that told him he was the subject of their conversation. It wasn’t just a coincidence. The waitress did an over the shoulder thing while the bouncer lifted his head.
Oh, no.
Hoping to diffuse whatever it was they were talking about, he waved with his hand, pointed at the dancer sitting with him and used his other hand to pantomime drinking.
The waitress said something else to the bouncer and then started toward Aaron’s table.
The thin girl on stage had finished her set. The DJ was announcing a girl heralding all the way from Vancouver, here, live, for the next few days only.
System of a Down blasted out of the speakers about toxicity as the waitress made it to his table. He had to shout it twice to be heard over the roar of Serj Tankian’s vocals.
When he thought he had a break in the music, he turned to the dancer at his table. She fidgeted with the strap on her purse.
Maybe it’s all related to the club? Maybe something went down a couple of days ago and everyone’s living on the edge.
He looked for the bouncer, but couldn’t find him. Mentally chastising himself, he sipped half the coffee down. He needed to be better in tune with his surroundings. He needed to know where the bouncer was at all times now that he had their attention. His presence had been noted.
He leaned across the table and shouted, “Do you know a dancer by the name Joanne Stevens?”
The girl looked sideways at him and shook her head. “I don’t know names. Only stage names.”
“You gals never use your real names amongst each other?”
She shook her head.
Aaron found that hard to believe. She had to be lying. On stage, a long-legged, dark-haired woman did some kind of sexual gymnastics on the stage to the beat of Godsmack.
The rest of his coffee went down in one long gulp. He knew the caffeine rush would cause him to be super hyper. It affected him like a sugar rush. Drinks like Red Bull were off the charts for him. Only in extreme situations would he have an energy drink.
He needed to be more assertive as he didn’t know how much longer he had left. Whatever the waitress said to the bouncer about him could mean he would have an early exit.
“Tell me …” he leaned across the table, “… what happened here three nights ago? I think it involves my sister, Joanne, and now she’s missing.”
The dancer leaned away from him. “You a cop?” she asked again.
“I already said I wasn’t. We both know that if I was, I would have to identify myself.”
“Well, I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
He waited. He wanted his confidence to rub in like a soft lotion. He wanted her to feel that she knew exactly what he was talking about and looking for answers was just as routine as dancing for another customer.
He could tell that she wanted to leave.
Then she did.
“Hey, where are you going? Your drink is coming.”
“I have to dance soon. I’m up next.”
“But what about your drink?”
“You have it,” she said and stumbled away.
“Shit,” Aaron mumbled under his breath. Nothing was going as planned. He could feel he wasn’t wanted here. The waitress hadn’t returned with the gin and tonic. As far as he could see in the gloom, she had vanished from the floor. He still couldn’t see the bouncer.
His eyes followed the dancer who had sat with him for a moment until she reached a back door to the left of the stage, where she glanced back at him before she disappeared.
Maybe he should leave and tell Folley what’s happening at the House of Lancaster. Maybe a bevy of cops could come in and ask their questions.
Yeah, and maybe pigs could not only fly, they could become ninjas and take out angry birds instead of the other way around.
A hand rested on his shoulder.
Aaron dropped off the chair by slipping his butt forward, his knees bent, until he was in a crouch in front of the chair. He stood to his full height and stared at the bouncer that the waitress had talked to.
“You shouldn’t touch me,” Aaron yelled over the music.
“You threatening me?” The bouncer moved closer.
“No. Just stay out of my personal space. It’s called respect.”
“You gotta leave.”
“Why?” Aaron asked, his shoulders raised, his hands extended in a questioning gesture.
“You’re causing a disturbance.”
“How so?”
“Asking questions about girls who aren’t here. How do you think that makes the other girls feel? You some kinda creeper? A stalker?” He walked around the table to within a foot of Aaron. “We don’t want creepers in here. You gotta go.”
“Did you say you didn’t want creepers in here?”
The bouncer nodded.
“Then why are you here? You’re the one who snuck up on me and caressed my shoulder.”
The bouncer was fast. He lashed out to grab Aaron’s arm where he would try to twist it up and manhandle Aaron out of the club.
But Aaron was faster.
He allowed his arm to be taken. As the bouncer twisted it around, Aaron spun with it and snapped his arm out and gripped the bouncer’s wrist all in one movement. The effect of the full twist, with the added torque of Aaron’s body, spun the bouncer’s arm like a windmill, pulling his upper body down with it. Using the bouncer’s body weight against him, the force was enough to spin the shoulder completely in a circle, lifting him off the ground in a body flip. He landed on his back, hard, Aaron still holding the man’s wrist.
“I told you to never touch me. The simple act of touching someone against their will is against the law in this country. What I just did is called self-defense.” Aaron released the bouncer’s wrist. “Touch me again and I will be forced to use ‘as much force as is necessary’ as written in the Canadian Criminal Code. Are we clear?”
The bouncer coughed a few times. He got to his knees and then pulled himself up, using a nearby table for support, collecting his breath. Aaron wondered why he had taken so long to collect himself. Could he really have hurt such a big man from a simple flip? Or was he waiting for backup?
The music stopped. On stage, the dancer looked bewildered. She used her arms to cover her exposed breasts and leaned against the pole.
To Aaron’s right, two new bouncers moved in. In his mind, he had already worked it all out. The only problem was, with men this big and this ready to fight, he would have to really hurt them, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t come here for that. Breaking bones and causing blood to hit the beat-down carpet under his shoes would be like a day in the office, but he couldn’t do it. Too much attention. The police would come. Folley would hear about it. Maybe his bail would be revoked.
It was time to leave. Peacefully.
He raised his hands in supplication. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave. But I’m warning you, don’t touch me. The hand that touches me gets broken. I don’t bluff.”
He could feel the eyes of everybody in the strip club on him. He moved to the other side of the table to keep his distance from the bouncers and started for the door. He kept his eyes on them, hoping they wouldn’t try something stupid. Sure, they might regret it, but so would he.
A few steps from the backdoor exit, one of the bouncers shouted something. He turned back as they crowded him.
The man he had flipped shot his index finger out in Aaron’s face and said, “Don’t come back here again. Got it?”
Aaron hated it when someone jabbed a fatty finger in his face. Bouncers always had that I’m big-and-tough attitude. I can push people around just because I can.
He knew he shouldn’t, but it was just too tempting and his nerves were shot.
Aaron gripped the protruded finger with his left hand, the offender’s elbow with his right. In one second, he pulled the finger back, bending the elbow. The man gasped and dropped to his knees. Aaron secured the man’s wrist, bent back as far as it would go without breaking it, and nodded at the other two men.
It happened so fast, they were stunned into immobility. Then both men stepped forward.
“Don’t!” Aaron ordered.
The man on his knees below him shouted in pain as Aaron leaned into the wrist. Both bouncers faltered, wondering what the right move was.
“I told you not to touch me.”
“I didn’t, I didn’t …”
“I was walking out on my own. Sticking your finger in my face is a form of assault. Being an asshole isn’t your fault, though. For that I will forgive you. Now, here’s today’s lesson, folks. Be careful who you think you can push around. You never know who’ll be patronizing your little nudie bar.”
Aaron eased off on the pressure. The bouncer on his knees breathed easier.
“I’m going through that door,” Aaron said. “Nothing more needs to happen. But if I feel threatened by any of you, we’re going to have to have a more serious conversation. Understood?”
The man on his knees nodded vigorously. The other two men didn’t acknowledge him in any way.
Unfettered anger rose in Aaron. He had come here to see if he could find a friend of Joanne’s and all he got was kicked out and in a fight, putting him no further ahead. He wanted to smack the dumb looks off their faces.
Are you too stupid to see when you’re beat?
Aaron jumped forward a foot in a sudden movement, and the other two men stepped back.
He released the man below him. It was over. Defused.
Aaron walked out into the late afternoon sun. When he got to his car, he stopped. Someone was crouched behind his trunk.
“Hey?” he shouted. “Get up.”
The dancer who had ordered the gin and tonic looked at him but stayed down behind his car.
“I can’t be seen talking to you,” she said. “Look the other way. Lean against your car. Do you have a cell phone?”
“Yeah.”
“Grab it. Pretend like you’re on the phone. Then you can talk to me.”
The back door of the club opened. One of the bouncers watched him. Aaron reached into his pocket, grabbed his car keys and opened his door. Leaving it open, he retrieved his cell phone from his pocket, mock dialed a number and held it to his ear.
“What’s going on?” he asked after a moment.
“Three nights ago a very powerful man came to the club.”
“Who?” Aaron said into his phone. Then he held it away from his head and shouted at the bouncer, “I’m calling the cops.”
The bouncer went back inside the cl
ub.
“I don’t know who,” the dancer said. “All I know is that he chose two girls. One was Joanne and the other was Jan Elliot. No one has seen either girl since that night.”
Joanne had probably called him from the bathroom of the club that night. The interference would have been a low signal from within the building added to the noise of the music.