Goodbye, Good Girl

by Renee Blossom

  April hugged Kandace and held her while she worked out her emotions. “Hey, think about it. When you find your dad, then you can tell him how you feel.”

  “What if he doesn’t want to come home?”

  “When was the last time you talked to him? Not a message, but actually talked?”

  “Uh, last Saturday.”

  “And was he honest with you?”

  “I think so. But I feel… I can’t describe it. Burned, I guess.”

  “Because he’s working all the time or because he won’t tell you anything?”

  “Both. I guess that’s it. He’s hiding something. And I hate that, even if it is to protect me.”

  “If that’s his worst flaw—and I’m not putting down your shit like mine is so much bigger—but if lying about his job is the worst of it, you’re doing better than lots of people.”

  “I just can’t understand, that’s all,” Kandace said. “Why risk your life if you don’t have to? Why work far away from your family if you could be close to home?”

  “Fuck. I ain’t Dr. Phil. Let’s get a coffee and sit outside. And for real, girl. The best thing you can do is talk to your dad straight. If you don’t like how you’re treated, then push back. Tell him how you feel. He’s probably clueless about what he’s doing to you.”

  “I’m afraid to do that. He might think I’m overreacting.”

  “It’s tough love. If you can’t be honest with him about what you want, then what do you really have for a relationship?”

  “Okay, okay. Coffee sounds fine,” Kandace said, following April’s brisk walk. “My friend wants some from 6th coffee? Something like that.”

  “6NorthCafe. It’s the bomb. That’s where we’re going,” April said. Two minutes later, she pushed through the front door of the café. They sat inside at a table for two beside the windows.

  Sitting with a steaming cup, Kandace asked, “You wouldn’t be mad? If your dad lied to you like that?”

  “If he calls you, sends money, then he cares. Take what you can get. But why not tell him how you feel?”

  “I’m afraid. I don’t wanna complain. Or chase him away,” Kandace said and took a sip from her cup, froth lingered on her upper lip until her tongue removed it.

  “Yeah, that’s a risk,” April said. “But if you’re in that place, then what’s the point, right?” She nodded, as though she were figuring John Santellan out in her head. “I used to come up with these artsy crafts for my dad on Father’s Day each year. It wasn’t until I was like nine or ten that it occurred to me I was better off getting him a case of beer, a lawn chair and leaving him the fuck alone.”

  Kandace’s eyes widened, watching April across the small round table beside a glass wall, facing the street. “Really? That seems…”

  “Pathetic? Yeah, maybe. Guys need rest like us. They just do it differently. And when we don’t let them, there’s a problem.”

  Kandace screwed up her face. “Huh?”

  “What I’m on about is, if your dad couldn’t breathe at home, then he went where the air is clear.”

  “So… you think he left because of me? Because of my sisters?”

  April shrugged. “Could be your mom, though. If she’s not well, some people can’t handle that.” She sipped her mocha and paused. “Maybe I’m talking out my ass, but some guys are addicted to their next adrenaline rush. I dated a guy once that loved baseball too much and I figured out fast that me and him weren’t compatible. But everybody has their thing. Maybe your dad can’t stop seeing the world. Maybe he just can’t sit still and be a family guy.”

  Kandace watched people passing by, unaware how she stared at them, admired them, even envied them. They seemed uninhibited by troubles. Free of their past.

  “Don’t try to figure him out. Just tell him how you feel. You can’t make him love you. That’s up to him,” April said.

  “That sounds kinda like giving up.”

  April used her straw to mix in her whipped cream. “You can’t make someone else be who you want. He can’t make you un-become a dancer. He can’t take dance away from you because it’s in you—it’s part of you. We are who we are.”

  “I have to take him as he is. And he has to take me as I am.”

  “About right.”

  14

  The cafe buzzed as the sun and shadows shifted at the street corner. Foot traffic on the sidewalk remained steady. Kandace and April talked about first dates and made themselves laugh for the better part of an hour. Then they wandered the park and got lost on purpose. As the afternoon settled in, April got them an Uber to the club.

  Silver suits were everywhere backstage and men in yellow shirts were flying around like bees, setting up big glass tanks, set on a rolling black stage that moved slowly and required several men. The club looked different than the night before—all the tables and chairs had been reorganized in each room, but not the main stage.

  “What’s all this?” Kandace asked.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s Tank Tuesday. That’s why you’re seeing so many dancers this early. Gotta battle for a space. Tank shows pay you fifteen per head, plus tips. They can pack in fifty guys for a show, sometimes more.”

  “Tonight’s a good night. I can feel it,” Kandace said.

  April smirked. “And you didn’t want to work.”

  “I did. Just trying to convince myself I wouldn’t. But it’s the most fun I’ve had in a long while.”

  “C’mon. Let’s find Teddy in a good mood.” She led the way past tables and bars, through backstage to the offices. Teddy had two empty water bottles on his desk, a paper packet in his hands, and feet on the desk as April and Kandace walked in. He didn’t look up.

  April stopped short of his desk and stood by, waiting for him to notice. To Kandace, seconds felt like minutes.

  “Yes?” Teddy asked.

  “My girl needs to collect,” April said.

  “You know how we work around here,” Teddy said and he focused on Kandace. “You say, pay me bitch!Now go on, let’s have it.”

  Kandace glanced at April for reassurance and April stood still, a smirk on her face. She nodded.

  “Pay me, bitch,” Kandace said, directed more at the desk and not at Teddy.

  “Oh, come on! Weak. Try again.”

  Kandace felt sweat at her sides. She slid her hands in her jean pockets and said, “Pay me, bitch.”

  “At least that one was at me, now let’s have it for real. Come on.”

  “Pay me, bitch!”

  “I’m not convinced,” Teddy said.

  “Pay me, bitch!”

  Footsteps behind them as two suits jogged into the office. They cracked up on arrival. April stood hunched over, holding her legs for support. Kandace felt her face warm up, realizing what she’d done.

  The suits left shortly, laughing on the way out.

  Kandace watched Teddy crack up, kept her hands in her pockets and waited for whatever prank he had next. She managed to laugh a little at herself.

  “April, how do you keep finding nice girls?” Teddy asked.

  “Stop fucking with her and pay her already. She’s embarrassed enough.”

  “Oh, fine. You’re no fun,” he said and turned his chair, reached under the desk and held a stack of cash, bundled with a thick blue band. The stack wasn’t thick, but a Benjamin lay at the top. “Fine first night, young lady. Keep it up.” He tossed the bundle on the edge of his desk and pushed a printed form, using a pen as a pointing device. “This here is your dancer number. Memorize it and don’t tell anyone. This is total expenses, itemization is on the back, which includes your stage fees, clothes, glamour and this number here is your gross tips for the night, minus the standard twenty percent that you tip out, so your net tips is here. Then your services gross total, for all dances, then the net number, fifty percent to the club. And total pay.”

  “Damn,” Kandace said, looking at the stack of cash. Picking it up felt like stealing.

  Five thousand four hundred th
irty-seven dollars. All hers.

  “Sign the bottom,” Teddy said.

  Kandace signed and instantly felt transformed. Older. Responsible. She couldn’t remember signing anything like this. All that she owed in the world didn’t add up to this.

  “You should count it,” Teddy said.

  Sliding off the band, Kandace counted on the desk and when she reached the same number for her pay, her eyes met with Teddy’s bland expression.

  “Glad to know our machines still work,” he said.

  Kandace stacked her money, hands shaking as she fought with the band to fasten them.

  Teddy watched Kandace all of a second then said, “You’ve got a bank account, I hope. April? Would you take care of your rookie? Thanks.” He sat back on his chair, feet returning to the desk.

  April chimed in, “Autumn and me want to go to Vegas.”

  Teddy’s brow creased. “The NLCS is here. Why leave at primetime?”

  “The teams travel today, right?”

  “Stop questioning me on sports. They beat the Dodgers in LA last week for the divisional round. It’s game 2 of the NCLS here tonight. Giants versus Cardinals. We sold out last week after they won.”

  “They’re not playing tomorrow night, I’ll bet.”

  “Your timing sucks. We had a shitty first weekend in October, it’s like no one wanted pussy that weekend.”

  “That weekend was bank for me.”

  “It wasn’t for the club. Year over year was terrible.”

  “Fine. After tonight’s a big night, you’ll comp two tickets, deal?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Payback for Vic.”

  Teddy raised his eyebrows. “He won’t accept you two as an equal payment.”

  “You know he’s offered to fly me out. Couple times.”

  Teddy turned his attention to Kandace. “Are you seriously in on this or is she taking you for a ride?”

  “It’s not for forever,” Kandace said and wished she’d been better prepared to answer him.

  Teddy managed a laugh. “April, you and your sweet rookie are dismissed. I’ve got work to do.”

  “C’mon K,” April said, leading the way out.

  Kandace wanted to go back and try again, but figured she’d left an opportunity on the table. “Sorry,” she said to April, quiet enough she couldn’t be sure she was heard.

  “No worries. He wasn’t gonna jump on it at first. He’s gotta have a monster night.”

  “Okay, so what do I do? I don’t want to keep all this cash.”

  “Lenny will drive you to the bank,” April said, waving at a silver suit Kandace hadn’t yet met.

  She rode in the back of a Mercedes and felt like a paparazzi target, stepping out at the curb. She deposited five grand and kept the rest.

  She went straight to the backstage when she returned to the club. All of the managers knew her as Autumn and were cordial. She had to remember that was her name inside the club. And to smile back.

  It wasn’t four yet, but time felt tight, as though she had an impossible itinerary ahead of her. Two small blue pills and a water bottle rested at her station. Kandace paused, studying them.

  I’ll be fine if I don’t drink.

  She downed them and discovered she couldn’t wait until they kicked in—at last she could stop worrying about everything that was wrong at home. She took off her jacket and purse, put them in her locker and found a tank schedule attached to her mirror. 5:30 in Blue Moon. Which room was Blue Moon? Was that the really big, far room she had seen with funky blue walls and clouds on the ceiling?

  “Autumn, you’ve got tank rehearsal in twenty,” Trey said, slowing a little as he walked past.

  “What do I wear?”

  “Go to wardrobe,” he said and kept walking.

  No sight of April.

  Wardrobe had choices, with several strappy outfits that resembled swimwear and Kandace was afraid of experimenting on short notice. A bikini felt safe.

  She wandered the club until she found the Blue Moon room. Men were setting up chairs in a circle around the tank, four rows deep. A silver suit Kandace didn’t recognize was there, inspecting the tank; a glass enclosure big enough for three, maybe four people, with rain style spray heads above, a hard rubber floor with a standard drain in the middle.

  Backstage, food arrived like a rolling convoy. Shrimp tempura, curried lamb, miso duck breast and a large quantity of sushi—Kandace paid little attention and didn’t deliberate much. Dancers swarmed and nothing lingered for late arrivals.

  “Am I supposed to know what I’m eating?” Kandace asked April, finding her mentor at the table.

  “If it ain’t moving, it’s safe. Try the sushi. Could give you an awesome parasite,” April said. “That’s my secret.”

  Dancers at the table cracked up and sparked a group conversation about eating disorders.

  “Awesome. I’ll play it safe tonight,” Kandace said.

  “You never know what you might be missing.”

  “There’s nothing left anyway.”

  Kandace had to eat fast; her first scheduled shower show started in twenty minutes. Catty talk around the table made the meal pleasantly amusing, as girls traded barbs. One dancer, whose name Kandace couldn’t remember, lectured about the struggle to raise kids, dance at night and finish a degree. She had everyone’s attention and Kandace understood a universal truth at the table: all the girls were hell-bent on getting ahead. The Palace was merely a stepping stone for potential future leaders, doctors, educators, entrepreneurs.

  Three minutes to show time. She walked to Blue Moon using backstage access so she didn’t have to pass through the crowds. A silver suit stood at the door smiled and told her what to do.

  She left her robe backstage and entered deep blue light, following stage lights along the otherwise completely dark path and entered the shower tank in total darkness, pulled the glass enclosure shut behind herself.

  Whistling and cheering reminded her of what came next and she couldn’t wait. She was surprised that she didn’t feel nervous at all—unlike at competitions.

  She waited for the show to start, ripe with anticipation. She could only guess how many had paid to watch and she felt like they should get their money’s worth.

  Motivation by Kelly Rowland began and the applause mixed with the pulsing beat. Kandace released the clip that held her hair in layers and shook. Gentle rain came, bathing her without drenching, and lights brightened to garner whistles. Their excitement gave life to her hips, her legs. Her extended fingers traveled her curves. Howls erupted when suds drizzled all over her.

  This wasn’t pole dancing, but Kandace had fun; twisting, teasing, lathering the airy foam over herself.

  Lights changed as the song played. She still couldn’t see any more than her own reflection and total darkness beyond.

  Their cheers motivated her to let loose and she did not disappoint.

  As her second song, Livin’ It Up by Ciara, started, her audience got louder, their whistles clamoring for more. At the bridge, she toyed with her strings. Lights brightened and the room came into view. By the end of the second track, she wore thin layers of foam and gave the boys a show to talk about.

  Her crowd was close. Her stage outside the tank was papered green.

  Their reactions drove her to experiment and she loved the physical touch, the sensuality of her dance, their attention—her senses were going wild. She couldn’t wait to arrive. More suds and as Sex With Me started and she found the right nerves. She carried on to the end and made no secret of it. Her crowd was elated.

  A purging rinse and she posed for them, blew a kiss and waved goodbye, lingering a moment to wring water from her hair.

  Kandace got a standing ovation as she exited the tank. A silver suit wrapped her in terrycloth. A manager directed her to a private room, where she had a group of five waiting for her. She gave them a table dance and they tipped well, but they made insistent sexual requests, even though the ma
nager had told them not to. The requests didn’t bother her—she thought of ways she could satisfy their intuitions.

  At the end, management escorted her backstage where she toweled off sweat and guzzled a water at her station, then slipped on her robe as she checked the revised schedule. One hour until her next tank show. A private party after that.

  Noel appeared with a new pink bag. “Hey, Autumn! How’s your night so far? I’ve been making my rounds and everyone thinks you’re fitting in great.”

  “Oh, it’s been fun. Learning, trying new things.”

  “Wonderful. I hope you liked the goodie bag and had a chance to look through the booklet I gave you,” Noel said.

  “Oh. I did. I saw a booklet like that once before. About a year ago.”

  Noel’s expression shifted. “Good to know.” She came closer. “Are you involved with a church?”

  “Uh. Sort of. A friend of mine from the studio, Lacie. Anyway, I’d been having trouble with my dad and taking it kind of hard and Lacie invited me to her church, so I went. It was different, not so churchy. One weekend I was there, they went through a booklet like the one you gave me. And I don’t know what happened exactly, but it all made sense. Like, I know I’m not good enough for Heaven. I’ll never earn my way to God. I can’t do enough good. So God gave me a trade. My sin for Jesus’s perfectness. So, when they called people to the front of the church, I went. We all knelt and I was praying with other students and it was cool but… I can’t explain what happened. It’s like I was different, but I can’t say how.”

  Noel’s smile was pleasant, her body language relaxed. She pulled over a chair from the long table and sat near Kandace. “Your story sounds a lot like mine. I think we have to reach the end of ourselves before we can see Jesus for who He is.” Noel paused. “For years, I was in YoungLife and didn’t get it, until one day I responded to an altar call. I was desperate for acceptance that I couldn’t get from classmates or my parents. And I couldn’t forgive myself for my past.”

  “Wow. It’s like Yvonne had been telling me—Yvonne is my dance instructor—but it hadn’t made sense. I’d thought I could do it all on my own. I’ve always been confident that if I work hard enough—like dancing—I could do anything.” Kandace paused, reflecting. “When life got rocky and I didn’t know where to go, I’d reached my end. I’d been dating a guy and he was all of a sudden way more interested in this other girl. And then… my dad and I hadn’t talked in weeks… my mom had surgery that went badly, so she was on pain meds and either sleeping or pissed off. Then we had this woman checking in on us, so me and my sisters felt like pets at a shelter.” Kandace paused and shifted on her seat. “It was hard. For all of us.”