She kept walking.
He didn’t say where he was. Did he know about Sean Clayton?
Where had Sean Clayton gone? She texted Markus and waited. And waited.
One foot before the other, into the wind which chapped her lips. Kandace felt she had to walk like she owned the place, as though she wasn’t a tourist.
Kyle was certainly on the highway, heading home. She thought of friends, her sisters, anyone she could call, but she couldn’t shake how she felt—like talking to anyone but her father was only a waste of time.
Dad doesn’t know it, but he needs me.
She walked for several minutes, looking around and worrying.
She reached the bus stop. An empty green metal bench, shielded from the constant light drizzle, thanks to the booth.
Her feet were wet and cold. Her legs were cold too. She sat and waited. For a miracle. For warmer weather. For her phone to ring, her father, the one person in the world she wanted to talk to, on the other end. She told herself to keep thinking positively. Before long, she was mad at everyone she knew, herself included.
A young woman approached the bus stop with a commanding gait that Kandace associated as attitude, dressed like a prep school girl who shattered the dress code. Short and edgy blonde hair, smoky eyes. A small, pretty face that Kandace thought was elegant—though thinking that way felt all wrong. Dazzling earrings and a gold barbell with teardrop sparkling stones in the girl’s pierced abdomen, peeking below her top. Kandace wondered if those were real diamonds. The girl smiled, all lip, and then sat on the bench, far enough away to give Kandace space, but close enough to talk.
“You alone out here?” the young woman asked, a sidelong study of Kandace.
Kandace felt stupid. “I’m meeting people later on.”
“That’s not what I meant. I can tell you’re not from around here because girls usually don’t walk this way.”
“Why’s that?”
Oh no. I’m that obvious.
“Just don’t. Nothing wrong with here, just no reason to come this way, unless you’re looking for work.” She paused. “I’m April, by the way.” She offered a hand and Kandace shook it. “What’s your name?”
“Kandace.”
April took a longer, more thoughtful look. Kandace worried about why this random girl at a city bus stop was so interested. She knew a little about gangs, drugs, and knew which areas of Pittsburgh you shouldn’t go to unless you wanted trouble. This girl didn’t look like trouble, though she was clearly not innocent.
“Nice to meet you, Kandace. So where are you heading?”
“California.”
“Oh. You must be an actress? Model? You’ve got a great body for it.”
Is she hitting on me? “No. Well, I haven’t any plans to be. Just trying to get there.” Kandace wished she hadn’t been so forward. How soon would her father call back? It had been long enough.
April said, “Yeah. I hear that. I know a few girls who want to go out west. They can’t get it together.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. They model, starter stuff, it’s nothing much. Not enough to pay the bills. They need to cut loose and just go. Then I’ve got friends in music, trying to break through the noise.” She paused a moment. “But hey, I could use your help, and I think I could help you get to California. We could do each other a big favor.”
Kandace stood and started to leave but stopped herself, realizing she had nowhere else to go. She needed a ride to the Amtrak station. The young woman hadn’t moved, as though unfazed. “What do you mean by favor?”
April watched the rain a beat. “You need a lift to California, and you need money to do that. I’ve got a guy who can help you.”
“But you don’t know me. I don’t know you.”
“Yeah, but that’s how everyone starts out,” April said. “If you want to get to California quick, I’ve got a way.”
Kandace turned toward her. “What’s in it for you?”
“I hurt someone’s feelings yesterday and I’m afraid of bad karma.”
Kandace chortled. “Whatever.”
“Okay, fine. You’re a dancer, right?” April asked as the bus’s brakes screeched at the curb. Bullets of water launched off the roof.
“How’d you know?” Kandace felt flattered and curious about April—a vibe about her was both uniquely beautiful and probably misunderstood.
“I’m a dancer too, so I… recognized it."
April didn’t make sense. What did she have to gain? Kandace considered that April might follow her, so she formulated a plan. Getting on the bus, she tried to play it cool. April used her pass to pay for both rides. “It’s all right. I got you,” she said, as though paying for an extra fare were commonplace courtesy, like holding a door open for the elderly.
Kandace struggled to sit still, keeping her knees together and feet moving on the black rubber, as April chose the seat ahead. Three easily forgettable people were on board, scattered as though avoiding the human race. Kandace felt invisible to everyone except April. The bus carried an odd smell: not school bus stank, but a strong pungent and stale combination over pleather seats—as though the cleaning crew ran out of bleach and decided to mix in random chemicals.
“You got family in California?” April asked.
“Yeah. My dad,” Kandace said without looking at her.
April paused, considering this. “Where’s your mom?”
Kandace shrugged, and the truth hurt, as though she just realized it. “Back at home.”
“Oh. My mom’s all the family I’ve got,” April said. “She lives far away, though, so I don’t see her much.”
“No siblings?”
April shook her head. “I have cousins. But that’s what friends are for. They’re my family.”
Kandace smiled. “Yeah, that’s true.”
“Didn’t you ask your friends to come with you?” April asked.
“Oh, my boyfriend came with me.” Kandace watched restaurants and stores she would never visit pass by and realized she should have held her tongue about Kyle. She regretted that she hadn’t taken more time at home, maybe asked her girlfriends. At least they would never have left her alone.
“Is he meeting you later?” April asked.
“No. He had to… leave. It’s kinda hard to explain, but he had to go back home.”
“Wait. He ditched you here? Alone?”
“No. I chose to stay. I just couldn’t go back.”“Oh, no. That’s so shitty. What decent guy does that?”
“Kyle’s a decent guy. He just made an impulsive choice. That’s all.” Kandace shrugged, though she didn’t feel that way.
She knew she shouldn’t ask, but she wanted to know. “How would you get me to California?”
“My boss can make that happen. You could meet him.”
Kandace didn’t like how that sounded, but she wanted the fastest route to California and maybe this girl had a faster way.
“And who is your boss?” Kandace asked.
“Teddy—he’s helped me out big time.”
“Yeah, so why would Teddy help me?”
“If you worked for him, he could get you a flight to anywhere. Totally.”
Kandace felt anxious tension through her back and her ears pulsed—what if she became one of the horror stories she’d heard about? April’s offer didn’t sound legit at all, but where else could she go? The train station was only step one and she didn’t know if she had enough money to reach LA. Probably not.
“Who is Teddy? For real,” Kandace asked.
“He’s a businessman. Restaurants, bars, clubs, dealerships. Don’t worry. You’ll love him. He knows people.”
“Can we cut the shit maybe? You’re not exactly dressed to school code, so what do you do?”
“You’ve got some balls, sister. I respect that. I’m an exotic dancer. With your looks and personality, you’ll make big money dancing at my club. Try it for one night. You’ll have a blast and get paid the money you
need.”
Kandace studied April as her father taught her—starting with eyes, eyebrows, creases around the mouth, form of the lips, hand movement, posture. Did April make too much or too little eye contact? Did she talk too fast? “How did you know that I’m a dancer?”
“For real?” April grinned, shifting position on the bench. “Your legs give you away. You must be a master on squats. Or kickboxing.”
Kandace wasn’t sure if she should be flattered. “Thanks. I think.”
April shrugged. “It’s a compliment, trust me. Lululemon should pay you to wear their clothes around town.”
“Yeah, right. I wish I could afford that stuff.”
The bus stopped, and April stood. “You just can’t afford it yet,” she said with a wink. She didn’t look back as she walked toward the doors.
Kandace struggled to make up her mind and sat on her indecision. Did April have a better option? A flight tomorrow was way better than a train today. And if April turned unfriendly or forceful, she could split.
She envisioned arriving in California, able to support herself. If she danced one night and made money like April said, maybe she could get to her father’s doorstep offering help, needing nothing. She was supposed to be helping him, right?
As the bus doors began to close, Kandace came to her feet and followed April.
9
April was chatty while walking along the city street—about the active nightlife and social scene, university campuses close by. The city had great music venues, places to eat or just hang out.
“Are you a student?” Kandace asked as they passed a swanky club.
“Yeah, but it’s part time. That’s all I can handle.”
“I can’t wait for college to start. I’ve been accepted at several schools and got scholarship offers, but it’s not enough money to cover housing. So, what’s your degree?”
“Pharmacy. I’ll retire from stripping to become a drug dealer someday.” She laughed. “Ambitious, I know. Dancing is a means to an end. I love it, sure, but I can’t do it forever. The body can only take so many burns and bruises, you know?”
Kandace nodded. “I’ve had to use concealer so many times on my legs. I’m not kidding you. And in competitions, it’s hard to keep up.”
“Whoa, competitions? Circuit?”
“Yeah. I won for the Masters Division at regionals. Prepping now for the big tournament in the spring. That’s why I’m working so hard to get in the best shape I can.”
“You must be amazing.”
“Thanks. But it wasn’t good enough for Elite. Not yet,” Kandace said. “I really need more scholarships to make college work. I can’t pay for it any other way. Or my degree comes with a mountain of debt.”
“I’ve got a scholarship plan that will kick its ass.”
“Like what?”
“Dancing.”
“Okay, okay. I’ve heard exotic dancers can make big money, but it’s tough. Most clubs, most girls can’t make much.”
“Dancers at my club average three grand a week. I’ll make eight thousand or more.”
“In one week? No one I’ve ever known makes that much.”
“You’ve never known a dancer at this club.”
“I mean no offense to your profession, but I don’t want anyone violating me.”
“In two years that has never happened to me,” April said.
“No way.”
“Way. The club won’t tolerate it—bad for business,” she said. “Besides, people pay fifty bucks cover. No one wants to get kicked out.” April stopped on the sidewalk. “I’m not saying it’s easy, because it’s not. But when you’re working it, the money is phenomenal.”
Kandace’s head spun. Did she even have time to waste? Markus hadn’t updated her on Clayton; if he stayed in Pittsburgh, then she had a little breathing room. And she needed money to live on once she got to LA.
Kandace followed April to a large and mostly vacant parking lot, a long three-story building on the far end. She stopped in her tracks, taking the magnitude of the place in. The Palace. Its sign stood big and proud; a destination on its own, dressed in fancy pink and blue lights that were bright, even in daylight. Big, fake, dark windows. A large driveway, VALET sign on a golden stand near a wide staircase up to frosty glass double doors. Exotic Mercedes and Porsches parked in a perfect row.
“You should see the inside. The place is tight.”
“I’ll look. That’s all I’m committing to.”
“Fine by me,” April said. “Impressed so far?”
“This place is huge. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Well, size does matter,” April said.
Kandace smiled, distracted by the venue. Guys she graduated with talked about clubs like they’d been a regular or knew a girl who worked at one. She had been curious to witness their allure for herself. She could see why men liked coming here—you felt rich and famous by walking on its velvety carpet, as though by entering through its dark glass doors, you became whoever you wanted to be.
Modestly lit bars with a beautiful veneer, sparklingly clean glasses hung above dark wood, staggered tables in twilight rooms dressed in soft pink lights. The smell of carpet cleaner and baby powder, with a dash of overly sweet perfume. The poles on stage, though shadowed by limited lighting, stood out like a main attraction—thick and golden and familiar.
“Are you coming?” April asked.
Kandace realized she’d been standing still, soaking the place in. “I think so. What… kinda hours do you work?” Kandace felt dumb, but she had to ask a question to keep from stuttering. The place radiated seduction and fantasy living. She quickly lost herself, trying to imagine what went with a full crowd. Was it as rowdy and scandalous and lucrative as she imagined?
“Maybe fifty hours a week.”
“Really? The club is open late?”
“Teddy used to do the seven to seven routine, but customers wanted to come for an earlier dinner, or happy hour, so he accommodated by opening at four, closing at four.”
“That’s a long time. Does all this space get filled?”
“Oh, yeah. And you’ve not seen the rest of it. It’s gigantic. Follow me. You won’t get lost.”
Walking through the rooms, the grand hallways, the eclectic artwork and photographs, high ceilings and intricate details to the tables, chairs. Exciting. Unexpected. Thousands of tiny lights like distant stars speckled the walkways. Rock music played elusively.
Did Kandace have exotic dancer in her blood? Dancer, yes. But could she really strip her clothes for strangers?
Maybe for just one night?
Was dancing at the competitions for hundreds of spectators really all that different? Sure, she remained clothed, but what did her glamorous skimpy sequined outfits really cover?
Passing two bars and dozens of tables, April opened a door, and Kandace followed into a big and very blue space. April said hello in passing to scantily clad girls, and they were friendly back. Kandace felt invisible. In another area, they passed men pushing tables and taking orders from a guy in a silver, trim-fitting suit.
“Carlos. Always a pleasant face,” April said.
He paused his work long enough to make eye contact with April. “Hello, sugar.”
Walking down a narrow hallway, April opened an office door.
Bright lights and blue commercial carpet. The walls were splatter painted. Posters of models in lacy attire and unnatural poses lined the far wall. Kandace felt her face warm and hoped no one noticed.
“He’s through here," April said, pointing at a new door.
Behind the door sat a beautiful dark wood corner desk, paper stacks covering half of its surface, bundles of cash on the rest. Two dark leather chairs in front, and on the walls were photos of beautiful models in silver frames.
A stout man, not as Kandace had expected, sat behind the desk and looked up from a newspaper. The slim cigar clenched between his lips slipped a little when his eyes landed on her.
He stared a beat too long, as though he’d forgotten himself. His cigar tip glowed, and his expression relaxed. Smoke plumed from his mouth as he stood, his silver suit jacket and slacks fit to his frame. He threw a hand to Kandace and smiled as April introduced him. Kandace accepted and was surprised at how gently he squeezed.
How old was Teddy? Forties? His Cartier had diamonds in the face and bezel.
April explained Kandace’s situation and Teddy listened attentively.
“I’ve got sixty girls. Why her?” he said.
“She’s the one you need. You’re gonna owe me. Big time. You’ve got no new girls, no stars, no special performances.”
Teddy focused on April. “How are you certain?”
“Stage A?”
Teddy smirked. “Smart ass. Be out in five,” he said and waved at them as though shooing flies.
April turned and gestured to Kandace to follow her out. Back at the main stage, two men changed out small lights on tables.
“Here’s the gig. The DJ will pick something R&B for you. Easy to dance to. Just do what you do best, don’t try to start any revolution up there, let the song take you. You’ll do fine,” April said.
“Wait… what? I’ve gotta strip? Now?”
“Just dance. Show what you can do. Teddy will watch. If he likes you, you’re in.”
“Uh, this is crazy. I don’t even know if I’m sure about this,” Kandace said. “Do I have to get naked?”
April snickered. “Keep your clothes on and don’t panic.”
Kandace studied the pole on stage a beat. “I love to dance but I don’t think this is right for me.”
April reached into a small pocket on her skirt, fanned a wad of hundreds, so Kandace could see. “This is one thousand bucks. I’ll bet you make at least this much tonight if you do what I tell you.”
Kandace felt dumbfounded. One thousand was more than she’d made in a month teaching dance at home. “In one night? Who pays that?”
“You gonna take my bet?” April said. “Thousand bucks, just for trying.”
Kandace studied the money in April’s hand. “Say I’m going along with this. What do I have to do?”
“Pick a pole and dance. Keep it simple. You’ll be fine.”
Goodbye, Good Girl Page 7