“You used to let me win,” Kandace said, walking slower than natural back to the car. The air carried a chill off the sea. She had his linen jacket wrapped around her shoulders and arms.
“You’re too good now. My ego can’t tolerate getting crushed all the time by my daughter.”
“You’ve mastered air hockey. Must be practicing.”
He grinned, looking around the pier. “I wish I had time for living. For people. For my family.”
“But you do have a choice. You’re here tonight by choice.”
“Oh, you showed up at the house,” he said, and winked. “I know. I wish I’d done this a year ago.”
“I thought you could control your projects,” Kandace said.
“I can say no to any job offer, but I might not get another opportunity for months, or longer. It’s all big project work and you’re on or off. When I’m on a job because of secrecy, I typically am not allowed to leave until the job is done.”
“Not real family friendly.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
Kandace poked him in the ribs and he grunted for effect. “If I didn’t care I’d say nothing.”
“I know. Do you think the house is still standing?”
“Probably, but I’d bet April threw a rave, so I can’t promise good condition.”
“You better be joking.”
Her dad put the top down and let Kandace play with the radio stations, though he was appalled at the music she said she liked.
They arrived to a quiet house, empty take-out containers scattered on the island and April sprawled in the hammock with a blanket, watching the stars, playing music off her phone. “I was getting lonely. I’m glad you’re back. Have fun?” she asked.
“It was so much fun, once we stopped arguing.” Kandace checked for her father, who stayed in the house. “Even though Dad insisted we talk about stripping for, like, half an hour, it was still loads of fun.”
“So, you told him. Got it. I should start packing,” April said, sitting up.
“You’re fine. He’s not about to kick you out.”
“Oh, so he can bury me under his fake lawn instead?”
Kandace waved her off. “He knew something was up. Mom tipped him off.”
April slid over to make space for Kandace. “Wait, wait. So your dad knows you are a stripper and… he was okay with it?”
“Okay is not how I’d describe it,” Kandace said, lowering her voice to almost a whisper. “He wants me to stop and consider the long-term costs.”
April’s eyebrows raised. “You told him you’d keep on dancing?”
“To get through college, yeah. I’m not waiting for him.”
“You gotta give credit though. At least he cares. My old man would have asked me why I don’t work street corners when I’m not at the club.”
Kandace’s face creased. “That’s horrible.”
“Some days, I think he’s lucky to be dead. And I’m lucky for that.” April moved closer. “How’d you break the news?”
“Just blurted it out.”
The corners of April’s mouth cracked, as though she wasn’t sure to believe what she just heard. “How do you feel?”
“Like shit. It’s worse with him knowing, because even though he says he doesn’t judge my decision, he’s mad about it, which feels judgmental. I’m not good enough for him because I’m choosing to dance, and I hate that. It’s not fair. It’s like he can’t love me if he can’t control me. Bullshit. At least he didn’t lament on Kyle much.” She sighed. “I dunno. Maybe he put a contract out on Kyle and he’s floating in the river.”
“No, no. Kyle’s not gonna float. They put a really heavy weight on his ankles, that way he stays on the bottom until the fish eat him.”
Kandace managed a laugh. “Gross. Excuse me while I barf my dinner.”
Her dad came out on the patio. “April, thanks for not burning down the house.”
“I figured your fire sprinklers would ruin all my hard work. Good arson is an art form.”
“So,” Kandace asked, turning her attention toward him, “what are we doing tomorrow, Pops?”
“Pops, huh? Will saltwater ruin your dress?”
“I don’t want to be thrown in the pool,” Kandace said.
“You don’t?” he said and smiled, teasingly. “I wouldn’t do that to my daughter.”
“I remember the one summer when you used to throw us in the pool. Felt like you could fly over the water. We loved that.”
“You girls were much more bendy. And less sensitive.”
“Hey, it’s a nice night. Let’s not ruin it,” Kandace said.
“John, I must say your weather is so. Much. Better,” April said. “Can’t wait for that beach time tomorrow.”
“Why don’t we sit by a fire?” he asked, turning toward the opposite side of the yard. “It’s over here.” He stooped over and switched on a gas fireplace. The girls kept the blanket and sat together on a love seat, their bare feet close to the fire. Her dad sat across from them, relaxed, a glass of wine nearby. After an hour of light conversation about places to visit in Los Angeles, he stood, hugged his daughter and said, “No matter what, I love you, okay? No matter what. You can always come home.”
Kandace took a while to say, “Thanks, Dad.”
He bid them goodnight and ventured into the house.
Is he just saying that to make me think twice?
After he had left, April spoke first. “So, how long do you want to wait?”
“It’s ten-thirty. I think we should hit the fridge first. But I’m thinking… maybe I should take a night off.” Kandace shrugged. “I’m afraid of how he’ll react if he finds out.”
“It’s up to you. I gorged myself on Chinese. But I’ll be ready in maybe a half hour.”
“Thing is, he will know in the morning. Doesn’t matter if he catches me outright.”
“How? He’s a magician?”
Kandace shook her head. “I don’t know. He’ll sense I’m gone or hear a car door close. Or he’s got a camera planted somewhere. I don’t know what he’s got, but I’m betting he’s gonna know. Somehow. So, it… matters. I don’t want to hurt him, but I need money.”
“You think he might move you and your family out here?”
“In a perfect world. But not yet. Coral and Amelia won’t pull out of school mid semester.”
“And you think he’s serious? About moving the family out here?”
“Maybe.”
“Family never understands. Some dancers have boyfriends, a few are married and no one says they get support at home. The family loves all the money every night, but they got no love for how it’s earned. Kinda hypocritical, if you ask me,” April said. “If you like dancing, that’s all that counts. Trust me, he’s secretly beaming on the inside to have you relieving him of your college costs.”
“Like he’d ever admit that. Like he’d ever say that I’ve done a good job, supporting myself, paying for school.”
“Strippers get no respect.”
“I hate this. I’m torn. I owe for the car and I want to dance, but I think if I dance again, especially tonight, he’s going to snap. And I don’t want that to be the case.”
“Dancing is a solo act, girl. It’s just a reality. My family ain’t on board with my chosen profession, but they ain’t offering to pick up my doctorate costs, so I dance and they can keep their high school equivalent opinions to themselves.”
“Yeah, but this is my dad. He means so much to me.”
“I’m sorry about your situation, girl, but this is common stripper territory. Can’t tell you what to do, either. You’ve gotta decide what is right for you.”
Kandace sent a text to Noel, how did you handle family knowing you were a dancer?
She asked April, “Why don’t I know what I want?”
“You know what you want. It’s having the courage to do it. And that means walking away from something you love a little less than the other… how’s th
at for spelling shit out?”
“Ouch.”
“Tough love, baby. I can’t be all TLC.”
Kandace grumbled looking around the pristine yard. “I want to dance, but I don't want that to cost me my relationship with my dad.”
“The pickle is, he’ll be suspicious, no matter what,” April said. “Honestly, K, if you want to dance and your family loves you, dancing won’t change that. He might not like dancing, but he might not like the man that you love someday and get married to. He might not like your brat daughter or son. People don’t get to pick or control who we are. I tried to control my father for years and it about killed me. He wouldn’t fucking change. We are what we are.”
“I think you’re right… he doesn’t like Kyle.”
“I’m not sold that you like Kyle,” April said. “Sorry. Was that too honest?”
Kandace laughed a little. “Maybe.”
Noel texted Kandace: praying for you, there’s no easy conversation. Jesus loves you, no matter what.
Jesus loves me? After all that I’ve done? Kandace smiled at her phone, thinking about Noel, the club, and set it aside.
The girls lay quietly and watched nature and made up possible names for Kandace’s still unnamed car to distract herself. Moonrock became her temporary name, after her pretty color. They talked about everything and nothing. They laid quietly and the silence and the cool night felt perfect. When it was approaching eleven and Kandace felt safe that her father was out for the night, she announced her decision.
“Okay. It’s time,” Kandace said. “Let’s go.”
“Are you sure? No going back, Small Town.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I didn’t come all this way to have him control me and tell me I’m delusional about him being in danger. I’ve got to take care of me. I’ve not lived under his dictatorship for almost two years and I’m not re-starting now.”
“Well, well. It took you all of an hour to grow a pair? I’m impressed.”
Kandace snickered back. “I’m just so done with him letting me down. I’m doing this for me.”
The girls arrived at the club after midnight and danced until three-thirty, taking down a solid night. Crowds had been good, consistent. Polite. E was friendly, and effective. Kandace snuck in the house on Ocean after four in the morning, twenty-one hundred thirty dollars extra in her purse. John slept soundly, his snoring easy to pinpoint in the bedroom.
“I normally wouldn’t mind, but I really don’t want your dad to catch us,” April said, when they had settled in the guest room. “You could blame me, if he found out. You’d need to let me know before, so I have a head start.”
“Uh, duh? I’m the nice and innocent girl, remember? I don’t do bad things,” Kandace said. “I’m easily corrupted.”
“Those Bambi eyes don’t fool me, Miss Autumn.”
“They worked well tonight.”
“Hey, that was unreal. Can you believe that guy? I mean… who does that?” April said. “He musta been drunk.”
Kandace shrugged. “He tipped me well. I don’t care. He’s the one that got kicked out for whipping his pecker out.”
“Security wasn’t nice about it at all.”
“He kinda fought back, though. Pissed off the bouncers. Seriously,” Kandace said. “Crowds weren’t as crazy as I’d expected, but that’s comparing to Vegas.”
“It showed,” April said. “Tonight wasn’t great for a Saturday night.”
Kandace yawned. “I’m crashing. Seriously. I don’t even care if I stink of perfume.”
“No avoiding it. I’m showering before bed.”
“Fine. I’ll shower now. I wish I could have deposited this money, just in case. I’m paranoid about carrying so much in my purse. And I need more for the car.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll earn it and when it’s all done, you’ll have a sweet car, paid in full. And you bought that. No one can take that from you.”
“I know, I love it. But… hey, I was thinking and I’m betting you know… who was supposed to come to the club last weekend?”
“What do you mean?”
“The Palace. Last Sunday. Trey had said they had a model, special guest star who cancelled last minute.”
“Oh. I don’t know, why?”
Kandace shifted on her feet, watching April. “Just tell me, already.”
“Fine, it was Anh Aitken.”
“And who is she?”
“Why? It doesn’t matter. She nixed the deal.”
“Yeah, but I’m wearing Anh’s clothes. The private rooms, scheduled dances that I got, tank shows, the Four Seasons suite. That was all for her, not me.”
“So? You got the star treatment. You traded places with a model for a couple nights. Everyone wants that. Sweet for you. Why does it matter?” April said.
“I just want my life to be legit, you know? Honesty. I don’t know,” Kandace said, stumbling toward the bathroom. “Talk in the morning.”
“You can be mad if you want, but it’s a couple grand in clothes the club gave you,” April said. Kandace closed the bathroom door.
28
Morning arrived and Kandace opened her eyes to soft light through the window behind her headboard. She wandered to the bathroom, took two Advil, ignored her plastered hair, then traipsed out.
Her father was outside on a chaise lounge, nursing a coffee, April at his side. The morning felt late, but it was only 8:45. Kandace fixed herself a cup and pulled a chair next to her father.
“Morning, cupcake,” he said, smiling at her. “Hungry?”
He looks strained. Troubled. Does he have to leave?
April chimed in, “John’s taking us skydiving.” She cheered, giddy.
“I suggested the beach,” he said. “But your spirited friend here wants to jump out of a plane.”
“We could charter a boat. Swim in the ocean,” Kandace said.
“We’ll do that tomorrow,” April said. “C’mon, K! Take the jump!”
“You’ve done this before?” Kandace asked her father.
“Once or twice,” he said and winked. “We can go at sunset. It’s beautiful. Relax for the day. The beach is perfect, if you ask me.”
“That settles it! Beach day,” April said.
“Why do I feel like you’re taking over my father daughter time?” Kandace said.
April made a face. “He’s all yours, girlfriend. I’m not stealing him.”
“She’s not infringing, Kandace. But I did speak with your mother again this morning…”
Kandace cringed, feeling terribly guilty for a dozen reasons all at once. “How is she?”
“She sounds a little better and she’s on her feet more, she’d said. Still has chronic pain until rehab is over. She won’t get her off medication until she is out of pain. Fingers crossed.”
“She’s had way stronger meds than she needs.”
“I know. She was getting prescriptions online,” he said and turned away. “She has to want to get better more than she wants to be pain free.”
“Hard reality.”
“Speaking of hard realities…” he said and his tone changed.
Kandace felt like running away and she hated that idea. “What about Amelia and Coral. Did you talk to them?”
“Briefly. We had several minutes before Coral had to leave for practice.” He stared at her. “I noticed your cute little Jetta changed locations overnight.”
“It didn’t move. I’m sure of it,” she said, because she marked on the pavement where the tires were before they left for the club and took a picture of the tire’s angles, so they would match perfectly on parking.
“Your odometer would argue otherwise,” he said. “You had 436 miles on the car last night, now it shows at 512. Strange. Don’t you think?”
April jumped in, “It’s my fault. I talked her into running out with me.”
“You went in my purse to get my keys?” Kandace asked, panicked. She had at least three grand in cash in it, from her Vegas money a
nd prior night’s pay.
“I carried your purse out to the car and the door unlocked for me. Nice car. I hope it’s worth the real cost.”
April cut in, “It’s my fault. Blame me.”
Without looking away from his daughter, he said, “Kandace can answer for herself. It was her decision. Go on, K.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Not. While. We. Have. Time. You know? I’ve not seen you in nearly two years. I don’t want to spend what scraps of your time I get fighting.”
“Kandace!” he said, standing up. He faced her, close. “I damn well know where you went! I can’t sit back and do nothing like your mother because sitting back and watching you do this doesn’t work! I can’t watch you destroy yourself.”
“You’re forgetting that I need to support me! I’m tired of begging!”
“I understood your reason for dancing in St. Louis. That was one night. But to continue dancing, when you don’t need the money—”
“How could you say I don’t need the money?” She felt her throat tighten as her voice rose. “College? Moving on in my life instead of waiting on you. And Mom needs more most months, between hospital bills and prescriptions.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“You’re the one screaming at me,” Kandace said.
“Kandace, you cannot keep dancing. That’s final.”
“I’m an adult and Mom supports me, why can’t you?”
“Your mother lets you get away with everything.”
“How could you say that?”
“Because it’s true. And I send more than enough money home. You don’t need to do this.”
“I’ve been paying the bills and I can tell you there isn’t enough. And who pays for my college? I won’t live at home the rest of my life.”
“And I understand that. Find a normal job. Being some stranger’s bitch isn’t employment.”
Kandace sat there a beat, watching him seethe.She got up from her chair and grabbed her purse. When she turned around, he was there, behind her. She threw her wad of cash, the bills hit his chin and fluttered to the ground. Hundred dollar bills. “That’s over three grand! I’ve never had that in my life! And I need it for school. Mom needed five grand two days ago for rehab bills, that I paid!”
Goodbye, Good Girl Page 27