Vegas, Lies, and Murder

by Sibel Hodge

  Judging by the number of dollars in her tiny pants, she was also a hit with the crowd.

  ‘You’re definitely hired!’ Ivan said.

  Suzy blew more kisses to the crowd and strutted off. ‘That’s how you do it,’ she said to me.

  I fought the urge to punch her. ‘I distinctly remember you complaining that rap videos that had scantily clad women in them were exploitative to our whole gender. So how come this is any different?’ I asked incredulously.

  She shrugged. ‘It just is.’

  I shook my head and watched Tia walk on stage. The DJ cranked up a rock number with someone singing about cherry pie. Tia waved at the crowd before hopping onto the pole and doing a sequence in which she lifted herself off the ground, spinning around, legs bent back over her body. Next, she actually gripped the pole using only her hip, sitting upright with her legs outstretched in front. She dipped down to the floor and stepped away from the pole, arching her back, pointing her toes as she lifted her feet up and down. And before you could blink, she’d walked up to the pole again and done a complete cartwheel on it, landing back on her feet. Then she did a low spin around it before climbing right up to the top, where she went into spinning overdrive, going around and around really fast, her hair fanning out behind her in the air. She put one foot flat against the pole and the other outstretched behind her in a horizontal split before ending up with the pole between her thighs, torso bent back. Next she flipped herself over a few times—only God knew how!—and slid elegantly down again, her feet touching the floor.

  She gave the crowd a wave, and they roared their appreciation.

  ‘You’re definitely hired.’ Ivan pointed his cigar at her.

  Tia walked backstage and gave us a goofy grin. ‘Wow, how amazing was that! It’s so different doing it to an actual live audience.’

  ‘I know. We’ve only done it in the lessons before.’ Mum giggled.

  Suzy just gave us all a haughty glare and flipped her shiny hair over one shoulder. ‘When you’ve got it, you’ve got it. You’re up next.’ She poked me in the shoulder.

  I took a huge, deep gulp of air. ‘Wish me luck.’

  ‘Oooh, break a leg,’ Tia said.

  ‘Don’t tell me that, whatever you do,’ I said. ‘I probably will. Oh, crap, this is nuts. I can’t believe we’re doing this.’ I bit my lower lip.

  ‘Do that lip-biting thing on stage, and you’ll have them all eating out of the palm of your hand,’ Mum said.

  I took a gulp to moisten my dry throat. ‘It’s not my hand I’m worried about.’

  ‘You’ll be fine.’ Mum gave me a gentle push.

  Of course I would. What was I so scared of? I’d faced killers and dealt with numerous evil characters in my career. Pole dancing should be a piece of cake compared to that.

  I plastered a smile on my face and imagined the whole crowd were naked. That was what someone had told me to do when I’d started my career as a police officer and was nervous standing in front of an audience giving a presentation or a briefing. It was supposed to make me feel more confident, although in the present case, it just made me feel sleazier. These guys were the last people I wanted to imagine naked because they’d probably enjoy it.

  I kicked off my shoes, puffed up my hair, and walked out onto the stage, wishing my bikini were a swimsuit or something else that covered more flesh. A burka would be good. Luckily, the DJ started playing some slower music—‘Born to Die’, by Lana Del Ray, which was perfect for doing a sexy strut around the pole instead of spinning at high velocity. Standing on tiptoes, I held my stomach in and pushed my shoulders back, cleavage out. I held onto the pole high up with one hand and started a slow, seductive walk around, lifting up each heel behind me as I went, winking at the crowd. I switched hands and moved in the opposite direction, sliding one hand up the side of my hip, lightly over a boob, and up my neck and around my face. I flipped my hair over my shoulder and walked my hand back down. The guys didn’t even seem to be bothered that I wasn’t actually dancing on the pole—they were too busy watching my hand with a drooling look of appreciation on their faces. I switched directions again, this time using a fingertip to slide up and down my body. As the music carried on in a leisurely, sexy feel, I took my hands off the pole and walked closer to the guys in front of the stage, shoulders swinging, tossing my hair and sashaying my hips as I crossed one foot in front of the other like a catwalk model. I copied Suzy and blew a kiss to the crowd then sensually moved my head around as I walked with one hand on my hip, lifting up my hair so it cascaded down my back, showing off my neck as I plastered a sexy orgasmic face on. At least, I hoped it was orgasmic. It might’ve looked as if I was constipated, for all I know.

  ‘Yes!’ one of the guys in the crowd yelled out. ‘Give it to me, baby!’

  I did a little turn at the end of the stage and went back to the pole, one hand deliciously teasing the crowd as it went up my thigh, hip, chest, and into my hair. For good measure, I even rolled my eyes back and tilted my head. Then the tempo changed, and the music morphed into a fast number with a heavy dance beat. Not at all perfect for the ambient routine I had planned.

  Damn. At that rate, any walk would turn into a full-blown sprint. I could hardly stand there and do nothing for the rest of my audition, so I bit the bullet and launched myself onto the pole, spinning around in the frog move that I’d seen Mum doing with both arms outstretched above me and my knees bent behind and crossed at the ankles as they trailed around.

  So far so good. Now what? I’d completely forgotten everything else they’d shown me, so I put one foot flat on the pole and used my arms to pull me around. The music increased and I spun faster and faster, trying to keep in time to the tempo with a toothpaste-advert-worthy smile on my face as if I knew what I was doing. Then my sweaty hand lost its grip, and I shot off the pole, flew through the air, and landed in the lap of one of the geriatrics, actually straddling him.

  He threw his head back and howled, but I couldn’t tell if it was because I’d done his bits and bobs another injury after Trixie’s shoe, or if he was really enjoying my performance.

  One of the younger guys in the crowd did a fist pump in the air. ‘Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about. You get a free lap dance with that move!’

  The old guy grinned at me. ‘When they said the all-you-can-eat buffet was rump-and thigh-day today, I wasn’t expecting yours to land in my lap.’

  I patted his cheek, blew some strands of hair out of my eyes, and got off, glancing over at Ivan to gauge his reaction, hoping I hadn’t just blown my chances of landing a job and investigating Dana’s disappearance. Ivan was looking back at me with a look of… actually, I didn’t know whether it was confused shock or complete awe.

  The whole crowd started cheering and clapping then, so I climbed back onstage, gave them a little bow, and wiggled my hips with a wave.

  ‘Um… you’re hired, too,’ Ivan said with a slight frown. ‘I think.’

  Some more music piped up, and a regular dancer went on to do a session with the pole.

  ‘Come on—let’s go and see Ivan,’ I said.

  We all got dressed in the clothes we’d left on the sofas behind the stage and went out to meet him at the bar.

  ‘Come into my office, and we’ll talk business,’ he said.

  We followed him down the corridor to the left of the stage. There was a different bouncer standing outside the door with the keypad lock this time. His body was almost as big as Watermelon Arms, but he had a tiny pinhead, little piggy eyes, and puffy lips.

  Ivan stood in front of the keypad, obscuring our view of the numbers he punched in. The door clicked open, and we followed him inside.

  As suspected, it was indeed an office. There was an obscure-glass window to one side with iron bars over it. On the opposite wall was a huge flat-screen TV showing CCTV feeds from cameras positioned in different areas of the club. The views from each camera were tiled next to and underneath each other so you could see what was going on in
the whole building all at the same time on one screen. A huge metal safe stood in the back corner of the room. Was that what Dana had been doing in here—stealing money from the safe? When we’d seen her in the video footage, she’d been wearing a tiny bikini that wouldn’t have hidden much cash. Surely, she wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble just to steal a few dollars. But there was no way she could’ve hidden more in that outfit. Not unless she’d put it up… no, surely not. I shook the thought from my head.

  ‘Right.’ Ivan sat behind his broad desk in a large, high-backed purple leather chair that seemed to swallow up his short, stumpy body. His feet didn’t hit the floor and dangled midair. I wondered if he had short-guy’s syndrome and was surrounding himself with beautiful women to stoke his ego. He could’ve probably been a movie stand-in for Mini-Me. He eyed us each in turn as if we were in a cattle market. Gross. I felt my skin crawl just being in the same room as him.

  ‘We get quite a lot of older clientele in here who actually like a mature broad.’ He pointed to Mum. ‘I think you’re just what they’re looking for.’

  Mum grinned, smoothing a hand through her hair.

  ‘You and you are a no-brainer.’ He pointed to Suzy and Tia.

  ‘Goodie!’ Tia jumped up and down.

  ‘Cristal, the brunette who’s in the dressing room at the moment, will tell you the house rules. You can all start tonight.’ Puff, puff, puff. He blew smoke in our direction.

  Suzy wafted a hand in front of her face and coughed.

  ‘I’m not sure you’re cut out to be a dancer.’ He pointed at me. ‘But we’ve got an opening for a cocktail waitress. You want that?’

  My nipples breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Yeah, that sounds good.’

  ‘Bring your employment details in by the end of the week. The house fee is forty dollars.’

  ‘Lovely!’ Mum said with a confused look.

  ‘What’s a house fee?’ Suzy asked.

  ‘It’s what you pay me for the privilege of dancing in my club. We charge twenty dollars for a table dance and forty dollars for a lap dance on the club floor. It costs two hundred dollars for a half hour in the group VIP room, which includes three lap dances. And four hundred dollars for a half hour in the private VIP rooms. Customers using the VIP rooms have to spend a minimum two hundred dollars on the bar tab. You girls take home fifty percent from the dances, plus any tips you make.’

  ‘Is that on a par with other clubs?’ Suzy asked, frowning.

  ‘Yeah, what of it?’

  ‘Well, I think we’re worth more than that. How about we take home sixty percent?’

  I elbowed her. What was she trying to do? Didn’t she realise this wasn’t actually a real job?

  Ivan glared at her. ‘That’s the deal, sweet cheeks—take it or leave it.’

  I hoped he was referring to her facial cheeks.

  Suzy opened her mouth to say something, but I butted in. ‘That sounds great. Thanks, Ivan.’

  ‘Good. This is a classy gentleman’s club, not one of those sleazy ones, so I don’t tolerate any funny business here. There’s a no-touching, no-extras, and no-nudity policy. If a customer starts getting handy with you, let one of the bouncers know.’

  Phew. That’s a relief!

  I tried to look around the office some more, hoping to spot anything that might reveal what happened to Dana, but Ivan started waving his hands towards the doorway.

  ‘Go on, then. Talk to Cristal, who’ll show you around. I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Cool,’ Tia said as we filed out.

  ‘Follow me,’ Pinhead said. ‘I’ll take you to see Cristal.’

  We wandered back down the corridor, out onto the floor of the club, and around the side of the stage to the dressing area behind it.

  There were two rows of dressing tables lined up opposite each other with mirrors and bright lights on top of each station. Along one wall was a bank of lockers. An African-American woman stood by an open locker, taking off her street wear of spray-on Lycra skirt and tight T-shirt to reveal some very teeny underwear. A girl with short punky blonde hair, tattoos everywhere, and a pierced lip was sitting at one of the dressing tables, peering into the mirror as she swiped black eyeliner on her lids and then sat back, squinting at her reflection. I wondered if that lip was all she had pierced.

  ‘That’s Cristal.’ Pinhead pointed to a really tall blonde with legs that went on for miles and a pair of collagen lips that gave her a trout pout. Her skin was flawlessly unwrinkled, and I thought she’d probably been indulging in a bit of Botox. She could’ve been any age from early thirties to early fifties—it was hard to tell. And she had a killer body.

  The girl at the locker was now fully naked. She turned around, giving us a full frontal of her own version of the Vegas Strip.

  Suzy narrowed her eyes at Pinhead. ‘Do you always come in here when the girls are undressing?’

  Pinhead shrugged. ‘It’s OK. I’m a lesbian.’ He turned and waddled off, huge beefy thighs rubbing together.

  ‘Hey, girls, you’re the newbies, yeah?’ Cristal put one hand on her hip, tilting her head, fingertip to her lip, as she looked us up and down—but not in a pervy way like Ivan. ‘What are your stage names gonna be?’

  ‘Minx,’ Mum said.

  I coughed to cover up my laughter.

  ‘Oooh, yeah, that’s so you!’ Tia said.

  ‘Actually, can I be Naughty Minx?’ Mum added.

  Oh, God.

  ‘Minx works OK,’ Cristal said. ‘What about you?’ She looked at Suzy.

  ‘Suzy.’

  I glared at her. We’d agreed before we got here not to use our real names, not that any of these girls probably did, either. She was totally not investigation material. What had I been thinking?

  Suzy narrowed her eyes as if to say, What? Then she had a lightbulb moment. ‘Oh! Um… actually, mine’s going to be Sassy.’

  ‘OK, you?’ Cristal poked a red acrylic nail in Tia’s direction.

  ‘Lady Penelope!’

  Cristal nodded. ‘Sure. Sounds classy-sexy.’ She looked at me. ‘And you’re gonna be the cocktail waitress?’

  ‘Yes. I’m…’ I grappled for a name in my head. I watched the blonde with the lip ring take a sip from a glass of white wine on the dressing table. ‘I’m Chardonnay.’

  ‘Perfect for a waitress,’ Cristal said. ‘OK, let me find you girls a spare locker.’

  Mum preened again at being called a girl.

  ‘Hey, Coco,’ Cristal called to the African-American girl, who now, fortunately, had put on a G-string. ‘Is Dana’s locker empty?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Coco nodded. ‘She took everything with her when she left.’

  Damn. Even though I’d thought the chances were pretty slim that she would’ve left anything behind, I’d been hoping to get a look inside it. Still, I was pretty sure Ivan would’ve searched it anyway and removed anything that might help us find her. At least that was one thing to cross off my mental list.

  ‘Right, twenty-one, ten, sixteen, and thirteen are free.’ Cristal pointed to the lockers with keys in their doors.

  Thirteen. Unlucky for some.

  ‘OK, as long as you wear something sexy, that’s good,’ Cristal said. ‘Lace, bras, thongs, cutie panties, French panties, bikinis, basques, whatever. Just make sure they’re smoking hot. There are some outfits over there if you want anything else.’ She nodded to rows and rows of lingerie and skimpy costumes on hangers. ‘Everything’s washed daily. The waitresses all have a uniform.’ Cristal went to a cupboard next to the lockers and pulled out a scrap of purple, gold, and pink material that was barely more than a strapless swimsuit.

  Great!

  ‘Do you have anything bigger?’ I asked.

  She looked at my C cups and pursed her lips. ‘No, this’ll be the right size.’

  ‘I meant something that covers more flesh.’

  ‘They all wear the same thing.’ She thrust it at me.

  Double great!

  ‘And ma
ke sure you wear high heels.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Right. I take it Ivan explained about the fees you charge the customers for dances?’

  We all nodded.

  ‘You get to keep 50 percent from the dances and all your tips, too. Ivan lets us keep our money tucked into a garter when we’re working. In the group and private VIP rooms, there will be a bouncer stationed outside the doors with a clipboard, recording which girls are dancing and for how long. After you take the money from the customers, you give the bouncer half and keep your half. In the VIP rooms, customers have to buy a bottle of champagne or spend a minimum amount on drinks. The cocktail waitress takes the money for that. Got all that?’

  We nodded again.

  ‘Don’t forget: you’re selling an erotic experience. Chat with the guys and compliment them. Make them feel good, and flirt your booty off. The more they like you, the more dances they’ll pay for, and the more tips you can earn. You need to make them feel special. It’s all about inflating their egos.’ She looked at Tia, Suzy, and Mum. ‘You girls stay with me, and I’ll go through your slots on stage.’ Then she turned to me. ‘If you head out to the bar, speak to Cooper. He’ll show you the ropes.’

  ‘Okeydokey.’ I walked to the bar area, the bass of the music blasting through me. There was a guy, about twenty-five, drinking on his own with a pile of bills in his hand, eyes and mouth wide open, looking like a kid in a sweetie shop. He was probably wondering which dancers to ask for first. One waitress was taking orders at the businessmen’s table. Another was flirting with a customer at the end of the bar.

  ‘Are you Cooper?’ I asked, shouting over the music as I leaned on the bar. He was different from the guy we’d spoken to earlier about the audition. He was tall and muscled but not in the bodybuilder style of Pinhead or Watermelon Arms—more like a swimmer. He had short blond hair, and I think he was wearing black eyeliner.