Beyond Hunger_A Romantic Strip Club Encounter

by Ashley Logan

  “You want to talk about your day?” she asked with genuine concern.

  “Nope.” Sighing at himself, he put his empty bottle back on the bar and signaled for another. “Sorry. I was... thirsty. I’m better at listening than sharing. Why don’t you tell me why you had sticks in your hair, Violet Wheeler?”

  “It’s Vi, and I jumped out a second floor window,” she said without emotion, turning her gaze to the liquor bottles behind the bar. “I used a bush to break my fall.”

  Sucking his bottom lip, Serge nodded as she consumed most of her beer in one go.

  “Yup. That explains the scratches. You want to talk about what was inside that made you jump out?”

  “Not really.” She finished her beer, shrugged her eyebrows at the bartender when she offered another and thanked her when it came.

  “You in trouble?” Serge asked her quietly.

  “Not anymore,” she replied, her tone ending the discussion.

  Watching her for a moment, Serge nodded, clinked his bottle against hers and drank.

  “Are you in trouble?” she asked as she ordered two more beers.

  “Drowning in it.” Moving his empty one along the bar, Serge took a fresh beer. “Or trying to drown it, maybe,” he said, staring at the bottle in his hand. “But I don’t think it’s contagious.”

  “Bonus,” she said, clinking his bottle with hers before she drank.

  He raised an eyebrow. “At least, I didn’t think it was contagious. Should you be drinking that fast?”

  “Nope, but I left a party early, so I figure it’ll work itself out and head towards my evening’s originally intended direction.”

  “Campus party?” Serge asked, trying to piece together what he knew about her and the fact that University orientation had kept his colleagues busy all week. “Thought you were done with Med School?”

  “I am. I was saying goodbye now that everyone’s back in town.”

  Serge slowed his drinking to casual sips as he thought. “Goodbyes can be sad.”

  Vi stared at him, indignant. “I’m not sad.”

  “My mistake. I was just thinking that misery loves company and I was keeping you company.”

  She laughed out loud. “I’m pretty sure I’m company and you’re misery, but whatever, Serge.”

  Turning face on to her, Serge set down his beer.

  Was it that obvious?

  Probably. No point denying it.

  “I did need company tonight, so maybe you’re right, puffy eyes.”

  Her eyes refocused on his face as if he’d said something profound that she hadn’t expected. Raising her drink to her lips, she lowered it again.

  “I wasn’t crying because I was sad.”

  Serge picked up his beer and gestured for her to continue as he took another gulp.

  “I was angry. And disappointed. And downright annoyed at myself.” She paused to take another drink. When she lowered it again, her eyes were glassy with threatening tears. “I’m still fucking annoyed with myself.”

  Serge shifted to face her more. “Why are you annoyed with yourself?”

  Vi wiped her eyes and sniffed. “I made a stupid decision. And I knew it was stupid, but I didn’t listen to myself, because even a good decision would have felt the same to my fucked up brain. But it wasn’t good, it was very not good and I ended up having to play along with a sick asshole to get an opportunity to escape. And it could have easily been so much worse,” she said, breaking down. “So much fucking worse! I don’t even know how many guys he lived with, but if the jumbo fucking box of condoms on display was anything to go by... urgh! The world is so fucking full of assholes.”

  Serge sat stunned. He’d seen this kind of thing before, but that was usually when Gina or some other female officer would take over. Not having that option, he just said what he was thinking. “Shit. Vi. I - I want to hug you or something, but I don’t want you to think I’m one of the assholes. What do I do?”

  Shaking her head, she sniffed and scrubbed at her face, before giving herself a disgusted look.

  “Get another round?” she asked, getting off her stool and adjusting the bag on her shoulder. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  She scuttled off to the restrooms and Serge took a deep breath, exhaling roughly. Rubbing his own face, he raised his eyes to see the bartender staring at him. “Relax, I’m not an asshole.”

  She seemed unconvinced.

  “The next beer will be our last,” he added. Giving him a small nod, she moved along with her washcloth to the other end of the bar.

  Serge studied himself in the mirrored glass behind the bottles of liquor in front of him. He looked like shit. Dark rings circled his eyes and his dark stubble was too long to dismiss as five o’clock shadow. A beautiful face appeared next to his, and he turned around in surprise as Vi sat down again.

  How had he not noticed how stunning she was until now?

  She must be pretty desperate for company too, if she was here with him. How was that possible? He blinked at her.

  “What are you doing here, Vi?”

  She regarded him carefully and took up the beer that the bartender set in front of her. “Drinkin’ myself stupid with Power Serge?”

  He shook his head. “I meant that whole 'what’s a girl like you, doing in a place like this' thing. You know - in a shitty bar, with the hopeless, pizza-hating weirdo that tackled you to the ground when he met you? Don’t you have somewhere better to be?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve got places to be, but I -”

  She frowned as she tried to phrase what she meant. “You are refreshingly real, Serge. You haven’t bullshitted me once, and I needed that. You’re helping restore my faith in the world. And if I want to get shit-faced, I need to do it in good company right?”

  “Smart, but I still think your judgment might be impaired. We’re switching to non-alcoholic beverages after this one, just so you know.”

  “See,” Vi said, clinking her bottle to his. “My judgment is just fine. You’re a gentleman.”

  Choking as he drank, he lowered his beer to cough. “Not even close. But I am a cop if you want to press charges about that thing you mentioned earlier.”

  Shaking her head, she looked at her lap. “Thanks, but it wouldn’t stick.”

  “How do you know?” he asked, disappointed she wouldn’t even try. “If he gets away with it, he might try it on someone else. Someone less savvy and brave.”

  “I know that,” she snapped, surprising him. “I’ll be thinking of a way to keep that from happening, but I’m not putting myself through the court system to be blamed for something I didn’t cause and have the asshole let off because he pays his lawyer more than I pay mine.”

  Sitting back on his stool, Serge studied her. “He’s got money?”

  Vi agreed with her eyebrows and took another drink.

  “When you say you’ll find a way to stop him from doing anything else, do I have to worry about you jumping him in the street and cutting his throat open? Or his dick off? Or anything that would mean we’d have to hang out in a cell instead of this slightly, more attractive shit-hole?”

  Laughing, Vi shot a look at the bartender. “Keep up those compliments and you’re going to find yourself on the curb outside this so-called shit-hole.”

  Carefully checking the Bartender’s expression from under his brows, Serge looked back at Vi and smiled. “Noted.”

  Swirling his beer, he found himself wishing it wasn’t nearly empty.

  “Was the baby yours?”

  Dropping his bottle, he scrambled to right it before he lost the last of his drink - it suddenly seemed so much more precious.

  His heart pounded in his chest as he recovered the bottle, thankful it still held its contents. When it stood safely, he stared at her, trying to comprehend how the conversation had arrived at this.

  Violet sat with her eyebrows raised in question and her face curious, but not condemning.

  Shaking his head, Serge cradled
his beer in both hands and gave it more attention than was warranted.

  “You’re sure?” she pressured quietly.

  “Positive,” he said firmly, not looking up. “I’ve never shared her bed.”

  “But you want to.”

  It wasn’t a question, so he didn’t have to deny it. Somehow he didn’t think Violet would believe him if he did. With a one-sided shrug of admission, he finished his beer and nudged the empty bottle away from him.

  “So you’re hung up? That’s rough,” she said, finishing her own drink. “At least your drink wasn’t spiked, you weren’t offered cash for sex, knowing the sex would not only be taken regardless, but was also likely to turn into a gang bang of mass proportions, and you weren’t expected to accept all this as a huge fucking favor.”

  Whipping his head up, Serge stared at her in disbelief.

  “Tell me,” she said, resting her head on her hand, her elbow propped on the bar as she smiled sadly at him. “Do I look like a hooker?”

  He couldn’t stop looking into her huge eyes.

  “I’m serious, Serge. Do I look like a prostitute?”

  Narrowing his eyes, he drew back. “Is this a trick question?”

  Closing her eyes, Violet rubbed her forehead carefully to avoid her scratches.

  “I’m just looking for an honest opinion. You seem honest. I need to know what it is about me that makes guys think they can pull this shit, because it keeps happening to me and I want it to stop.”

  Serge studied her objectively and felt his brows draw down.

  “Most hookers I’ve met advertise more skin and actively seek clientele,” he said, from recollection of cases he’d worked. “Some are good-looking, others not so much. Some make a ton of cash and live very well, others scrape by. Some bleach their hair, some have fewer teeth, rotten teeth, broken teeth and bruises, track marks on their arms, water in their lungs, marks on their necks, dumpsters for coffins, or back alleys as cemeteries. I bet they said ‘no’ somewhere along the line. Even a professional can get herself into situations she doesn’t want. The problem isn’t with you, Vi; it’s with the assholes.”

  Nodding, she didn’t look convinced. “Do you think sometimes girls ask for it? That teasing a man with something they can’t have is taken by them to be some kind of willingness?”

  Frowning even more, Serge wished he had another beer. “Life can tease, and life can be cruel. It doesn’t excuse bad behavior. Teasing can be fun to a point, and lines can be blurred, but that’s why we have laws - to make the lines clear.” He studied her face again. “Are you saying you feel responsible for what happened?”

  Violet shrugged. “I think I was just trying to be me, when he presumed that I was another version of me and that maybe that particular version was up for something that she wasn’t. But before that version of me even existed, being me was an issue.”

  Serge blinked several times, trying to keep up. “That’s a bit too cryptic at this stage of the night,” he said, rubbing his face to feel more alert. “Maybe you’re over-thinking. I’m pretty sure it all comes back to assholes. Which is why I spend my workdays trying to stop them, and my weekends trying to prevent kids from becoming them. Can I call you a cab, or something, Vi?” he asked, as she checked her watch. “It’s pretty late now and I feel it’s my duty to get you home unaccosted by assholes.”

  Taking out her phone, she rapidly thumbed out a message and put it back in her bag. “Where are you headed? Maybe we can share a cab,” she suggested as she tidied her hair.

  Where was he headed? His car was by the hospital, but he’d had too many beers to drive. He checked his own watch. 3am. He was taking a group of kids for a run around Niagara Square at nine. Sighing, he rubbed feeling back into his face.

  “I’m headed downtown. The department on Franklin. I’ve got a stack of files on my desk and a bucket-load of shitty coffee to drink before the sun comes up.”

  Violet grunted and shook her head. “Well Serge, you just got yourself an escort. I live on Franklin.”

  “Huh. What are the odds?” he said, standing and readying his jacket as he looked out to the street to see the rain sheeting. Noticing she didn’t have a jacket with her, he stopped before he put his arm all the way into his sleeve and reversed his actions. Slinging it around her shoulders, he nodded her towards the door.

  “Thanks for the beers -” he said, dropping a small wad of bills on the bar and squinting at the strategically placed name badge on the bartender’s chest. “Kelli. Sorry I used shitty as a descriptive. It’s a fine bar, really.”

  Violet grabbed his shirt and pulled him out the door. “Did you think that was more complimentary?”

  “It was meant to be an apology.”

  Vi laughed as she held up a hand to hail a cab. “Needs work.”

  “Where to?” the cabbie asked as they climbed in the back.

  “Me first,” Vi said as she checked her phone. “I’m closest. Corner of Chippewa and Franklin please.”

  Serge froze as he was shucking rain from his forehead. As the cab pulled away from the curb, he turned to Violet.

  “Lot of clubs in that area.”

  “Yeah. Most people think that kind of noise would keep you up, but I sleep like a log,” she said, tidying her hair again before shrugging out of his jacket and handing it back to him. “Thanks for the loan, but you’ll probably need it more than I will. My roommate is meeting me on the corner with one of mine.”

  “That’s good,” he said, pleased she’d have company in that neighborhood. “It can be rough out there. You wouldn’t believe the shit that happens in some of those clubs. My friend Nina runs a decent joint around there, down where The Horny Buffalo used to be. I think it’s called Beyond or something, and I’ve heard it’s a damn sight classier than some of the others around there. The traffic in that neighborhood contains a lot of assholes, Vi. Maybe you should think about finding some other place to call home?”

  “You know Prez?” she asked, dismissing his advice.

  “Yeah,” he said slowly, as his stomach lurched. “She and I have worked on a few community projects together. How do you know Nina Pryzbylewski?” he asked as the cab pulled to a stop in front of a very well built man holding a bright yellow raincoat - the kind you might see kids wearing in storybooks.

  Violet waved to the guy before turning back to face Serge. “I guess I’m kind of another joint project,” she said with the hint of a smile in her voice. “Thanks for turning a shitty night into a pretty okay one, Serge. I owe ya.” Collecting her bag, she started to back away before she stopped, meeting his eyes again.

  “If you ever want to talk about how in love with your partner you wish you weren’t, I’m pretty good at listening too.” Giving him a quick, sympathetic smile, she left the cab.

  Moments later, the door closed and there was a double tap on the roof to send him on his way. Looking out the back window, Serge watched as Violet Wheeler pulled on her coat, grinned at her companion and started to walk away under his wing. The rain eased a little and for a moment Serge could see her more clearly. A vision in yellow, Violet glanced back over her shoulder. Their eyes met and Serge found himself returning her growing smile.

  CHAPTER TWO

  VIOLET

  Elbowing Bruno in the ribs playfully, I see if he’ll shake some of the rain that’s streaming down his face. Staring blankly, he doesn’t seem to notice the water running over his caramel skin and into his staring gray eyes, and I wonder where his mind might have gone to as he dutifully waited for me in this rain. I push my hood back as the weather eases a little and smile up at his slightly more engaged face. “Thanks for meeting me. It’s terrible out and I know it’s late.”

  “No prob, Vi. Everyone’s still up except for Scar. That girl cannot stay awake past two,” he says, shaking water from his head and throwing an arm around my shoulders. “I swear. It’s like clockwork. We’ll all still be pumped and she’ll be snoring in the corner.”

  Laughing, I
glance over my shoulder at the retreating cab and seeing Serge, I smile as pull my coat closer against a wind gust.

  “Don’t tell her she snores, or you’ll never hear the end of it. Did she make it to her bed, or is she passed out in the living room?”

  “Living room of course,” he says, sighing. “You know she hates to be left out. I’ll put her to bed when we get in.” Running a hand over his dark buzz-cut, he sends rain drops flying and I consider raising my hood again. Looking down at me, Bruno raises his eyebrows. “So?”

  “So what?”

  “So how come you look like you fought an angry cat? How was your big farewell to student life, and who was the guy in the cab? Mature student, or professor?” he asks with a tone that might suggest I was out seducing the faculty.

  Smiling as I think of Serge, I shrug. “Actually he’s the cop that saved my night from being completely shit.”

  Bruno stops, his arm around my shoulders making me stop too. “A cop! What happened?”

  Laughing a little, I sweep wet hair back from the tender welts on my forehead. “Off-duty cop. Long story. Filled with the usual kind of crap from guys. No unwanted advances from Serge though - that’s the cop. Apparently he thought I looked more like a terrorist than a hooker,” I say, laughing again. “And it was shrubbery, not a cat.”

  Sighing, I consider the night from start to finish. “Got another guy for the ban-list.”

  “Another one?” Bruno’s tone reflects resignation more than surprise. This is not an isolated occurrence.

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Name?”

  “Josh-the-asshole-Winston. He tried to spike my drink and treat me like a whore, so I stole his books and jumped out his window.”

  Bruno’s chest rumbles as he chuckles. “Good girl. Jeez, I’m sorry about that, Vi. You just can’t seem to cut a break.”

  “Tell me about it,” I mumble.

  It’s been more than two years since my last successful sexual encounter, but it’s not like I haven’t been trawling. I like sex; I want it, I just somehow always end up without. Whether it’s because of an asshole or my own issues holding me back, I can’t seem to seal the deal. It’s honestly getting ridiculous. “It’s not for lack of trying, Bruno. I want to move on from this shit, I just don’t have the knack of picking a good guy.”