by A. R. Case
The shoes didn’t stop at their space either. There was a soft-looking pair of boots near the door, half leaning one way, and spewed seventy degrees clockwise the other way. She must have taken them off as she was walking. Another pair were on the dresser. These were moccasin style. They had simple, clean, modern stitching with deep brown polished leather rather than suede and beads.
Her four-inch pumps from last night were right next to the bed. I tripped on one of them getting up to use the bathroom. Thankfully, I didn’t wake Edie.
Her bathroom was about the one place that needed an update. Usually girly bathrooms are anathema to me, but Edie’s was clean, functional, and none of those ugly, pink, fuzzy mats anywhere. Thank God. Just a couple of fairies peeking from leaves. Naughty, little voyeurs. I flipped them off.
Art was everywhere in her house. Carved art, painted, drawn, sculpted, stitched or glued. The subjects ranged just as widely. Nude men and women. Fairies and gnomes. Even a troll painted on the inside of the door under the kitchen sink. I stopped at her dance sketchbook again, and pulled it open to a few of the designs that I hadn’t seen on my girls. My phone was on the table next to it with my keys, so I snapped a few pics. I’d send them to a show manager in Vegas later.
The house was quiet as I got dressed. I could hear crickets outside. Joining them were the various other night noises you never hear anywhere but when you’re in the woods. No cars, no neighbors, just peace. No wonder Edie was so content out here. You could see it in the things she created. There were so many different styles, but the freedom to express like that comes from being completely comfortable to experiment.
She was sound asleep. I could just crawl back in, and wake up with her in the morning. Then, I would wake up with her every morning after until one of us wasn’t waking up. But that isn’t me. I’m not that guy. If there ever was that girl for me, Edie was it. Oh well. Life’s shit. Best to take it all and pad the fall as much as you can.
Edie
I woke late, and alone. Both reasons made me less than enthusiastic about changing my usual routine, and meeting Mary at the club to drop off her shoes. I’d fixed a pair for her two nights ago, but couldn’t reach her until yesterday. I was already on my way out to Fin’s and didn’t have them with me. We’d scheduled a time before she had to leave for the club today, but I’d blown past that by a good half hour, if not more.
Luckily, my truck was parked outside my house, and the keys were tucked under the tire well. Indy had written the location on the whiteboard I have in my craft room. It was kind of cute how big he wrote it … Like maybe I wouldn’t see it? Actually, I probably wouldn’t have. So, it was scary he already knew enough to write it in six-inch letters, bolded, and underlined.
The club’s lot was dotted with vehicles and bikes. I’d been here many times, but tried to never be here when it was open. This was going to be a test of my acting skills. I was doing okay, despite waking up alone. I mean, not like that was anything new, right? But the magic of last night had already faded with thoughts of rent and bills and getting places on time. It felt like a dream. A decadent, unreal, and just a bit embarrassing dream.
Life sucks as an adult.
Music and darkness hit me first. The door bumped me in the butt as I blinked off the morning sunlight.
“Hey Edie.” The bouncer at the door greeted me.
I waved and pasted on a big smile for him, rather than try to talk over the music. I’d forgotten his name, so it was my way to cover my gaffe. “Is Mary in yet?”
“She’s in the back.”
“I’ve got shoes for her.”
He waved me by. I knew the way, and my eyes had finally adjusted enough that I wouldn’t trip, or bump into someone. There was a crowd. I didn’t know that Sunday would be so crowded. If I had, maybe just maybe, I’d have put more effort into setting an alarm.
Then again, setting alarms was the last thing on my mind last night once Indy kissed me. The memory made me touch my lips. I could still smell his cologne, and imagine the feel of his rough beard on my chin. Edie the mudhen got laid. My blush deepened a bit, but it also made me feel really good to know that I wasn’t as odd as I thought I was. Maybe I’d embrace my new-found superpower. I would grab onto sex, and enjoy the hell out of it. Well, if I had sex again.
I hoped so. Especially with Indy. Another memory from the night before surfaced along with a weird stomach twisting, and lower down, a thoroughly shameless tingle. It distracted me from the mayhem around me as I made my way along the rim of the room. I was Edie the sexy. Edie the embracer of the yummy biker man.
The bartender, the one I usually saw when I stopped by before they opened, greeted me as I passed. Of course, he offered me a drink. I turned it down. I knew I wouldn’t be staying, so there was no point. He’s a really nice guy, always quick to help me out if I had to carry in extra items. I didn’t mind talking to him for a moment longer. Then proceeded on my way, still in my happy bubble.
That’s why I didn’t see him coming.
Indy
Sundays, I don’t normally stop at the club. If I do, I stop in when they open, get the place in line, then let it go until dark. Then I come back, and make certain the girls get out safe. But today, a million mundane questions from Clarence, the not-silent one in this partnership, detained me. Maybe it was also my fault for being late. Getting home at five a.m. had sucked. Sleep didn’t come until about seven a.m., and by then, the world was lazily waking up for Sunday normal.
In my neighborhood that meant grandmothers getting kids ready to be dragged to church. The remaining kids who didn’t have that in their life, snuck out of their apartments to escape parents who were passed out. Unfortunately, that meant a full playground at ungodly hours. That horrible contraption was right outside my bedroom. After two hours of torture, I got on the bike, and went to the strip club.
They opened at eleven for Sunday brunch and tease. No kidding, church letting out was prime-time. Asshats who wouldn’t be caught, or couldn’t be caught here on a Saturday night, were crowding the joint. It was a larger-than-normal crowd, which was another reason I stayed. One extra set of eyes on the girls helped.
Marina was dancing to Kid Rock when Edie walked in through the front. We locked the back during open hours, so no asshole could sneak around backstage and scare the girls. That meant she had to walk through the crowd of Sunday suits and hungover truckers to get to the side stage door.
I tracked her, leaving Marina for the bouncer to watch. He would do a good job. He also didn’t know that Edie, soft, pretty-smelling, with the seductive sigh, was in trouble. I did.
Of course, half that trouble was probably coming from me.
She checked in with the bartender who waived her on. With only ten feet left, it happened. And, like the night before I was there.
“Yo pretty lady, ain’t you to fat to strip?” One hand was reaching toward her ass.
I saw red.
He was up against a wall with both hands around my left arm. And yeah, it was my left hand at his throat. My right hand was fisted in his shirt, and both created this amazing triangle of lift. His feet were a foot off the ground, and his face was turning purple. Maybe I’d let it go blue, or fish white with broken blood vessels, before I let go.
“Indy.” Edie’s hand was on my right arm. And like that, I felt his weight.
“She’s fucking perfect. Don’t ever even look at her again.” My voice didn’t sound like my own. My right arm was starting to shake, but I’m not certain if it was the adrenaline or if it was the weight I’d just hoisted. As gracefully as I could, I let him down.
His throat had red bruises striping it. Two of the three bouncers were there, but it was Edie who’d stepped in and stopped me. I’m not certain, but I think she saved me from at least another twenty years in prison.
“The girls here are gold. There’s no touching, and no dissing. You don’t like it, take your business elsewhere.” That sounded like my own voice again. I draped an arm
over Edie as I said it.
The man had the decency to look scared, but he made the mistake of looking to the bouncers and asking, “You saw he attacked me, right?”
Both bouncers glared at him.
They knew who kept them employed.
“The girls are gold. No touching. No dissing.” Freddie repeated my words. For a guy with no real neck he was amazingly articulate, but today, he traded all his college talk for bouncer-ese.
The other bouncer asked, “You okay, Edie?”
Damn, he knew Edie. And yes, my arm was still around her. But, the difference here was that it was possessive in the real possessive sense, rather than a play possessive which I’d back off of when all was righted. The arm stayed.
In a perfect world, it would stay a long time.
Edie
He radiated anger. I’d guessed he had a cauldron of rage inside, but this? It wasn’t possible. It was as if all the energy of five active volcanoes lived inside the lean body of a man. Where we touched, it seemed calm, but inside? No. He seethed. And it was because someone had insulted me.
I knew I’d just seen him at his most vulnerable. Even more vulnerable than when he sleeps. He let me see what lives inside him. I doubted many saw that and lived to see the tale. Yet it didn’t touch me. It wrapped around me, but there was a cushion of something else in his inner core which would never let any of that touch me, if he could help it.
Now I’m not a fool. I’d seen firsthand what a man who contains rage like that can do. I lived it in the three years before I finally got a divorce. Indy wasn’t Eddie, my ex. Indy wouldn’t starve you so you would only have his hand to feed you.
The girls told me stories. He was larger than life in all of them. In a million ways he saved them. Daily, weekly, monthly, he was there. He’d be brutally honest, but also brutally protective. But none of their stories came close to this. Except for one I’d heard.
It was about the reason Indy went to jail. There’d been a girl, his girl. He’d been nineteen, her, seventeen and pregnant.
It was an uncomfortable story, with a horrible ending. I hoped it wasn’t true. But honestly, seeing him just now? It was probably worse than it had been told. And I fully understood why he had served twenty years. That metaphoric volcano would never rest completely.
Mine was dormant, but you never forget holding the dead body of someone you love. Never.
Reflecting, I’m surprised I didn’t serve twenty years myself.
Indy walked with me through the stage door. He whistled hard before we turned the corner where the girls dressed. It was kind of cute he’d give a heads up like that, rather than barge in because he owned the place.
Mary was back there. She was half in her Cherri persona. I’d known her long enough to see which one she was wearing at any given time. Despite being an extrovert, Mary had something hidden behind the personalities she wore. I felt like we were kindred in that trait. Marina was also backstage, still sweaty from her act. She had a robe on, but it was open. She made no move to close it either.
“Hi Indy.” She moved in on him, naked except for the open robe and a thong. Then, like I’d taken an invisibility cloak off, she noticed me at his side. Her step faltered to a halt. “Oh, Edie! Hi, I didn’t, I mean, wow, you’re never here when we’re open.”
“I don’t need to do any intros. Cool.” Indy steered me around Marina to Cherri.
Cherri was looking at me like Betty Jo had last night. It was part curiosity, part, what the fuck are you thinking? And, mostly simmering rage pointed toward Indy. I could see that I needed to run interference for him. I pulled away, and dragged my bag open. “Got your shoes.”
I smiled and got her to smile back. My contagious smile, Mom called it. Spreads faster than the flu, Dad would say. Both of them would then smile at each other like it was some new joke. It was kind of cute, when you’re six, but at thirty-six? Not cute. However, it broke the tension. At least until Indy rested one of his ringed hands on my shoulder. His fingers slid under my hair and skimmed across the sensitive skin under my ear, making me shudder. Mary caught that. Her eyes darted between Indy and me.
“Edie, I’ll be in the hall. Walk you back through when you’re done here. Marina, dress. Blue costume. Crowd’s bored. Cherri, on deck.”
Marina stuck her tongue out at his back, then blew him a kiss. “Slave driver!” He was out of the room, and didn’t bother to answer back.
“Soooo, Indy.” Mary said, with the shoes set to the side of her dressing table.
“You and bossman?” Marina tried to get me to confirm. “No way. You’re not his type.”
“Like you would know his type.” Cherri countered.
“You’re just jealous he treats you like a sister.”
Mary straightened. “I’d rather be his sister, than a skank who …” Her eyes darted to me and she clammed up. “Whatever.”
I changed the subject, explaining what I did to the shoes to fix the loose buckle. “If they begin to rub, let me know as soon as you can. I don’t want them causing blisters.”
“They never do, you know that.”
“One of my first ones in that style did. Took me three different cuts of ankle strap to get it to ride right. Makes it loose in the sides, though.”
Mary shook her head. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” And continued getting ready.
Marina slipped into a blue, sequined leotard. It was designed for pole dancing. Her arms had the definition that comes from lifting your weight around. I’d tried some of the moves when the club was closed for practice. That small test was just enough to have serious admiration for any pole dancer. I looked at her shoes. “I’ve got a satin that would go with your leotard.”
That got her attention. “Mary Jane or T-strap?”
I looked at the outfit. “Maybe a Lita, you know, the little boot style?”
“OOooo! Can I have sequins on them, too?”
“The same as your outfit,” I tilted my head sideways and looked at the pattern, “Maybe a spray over the toes, wrapping along the outside. You’ll need padding at the top so it doesn’t rub.”
The sketchbook came out. I never go anywhere without it, but I had left my roll of rubber-banded watercolor pencils at home in my hurry. The outline went onto the first open page I could find. Then the pattern for the toe overlay.
Marina hovered for a minute watching, giving minor input as I sketched it out. I erased a mistake in the heel, and redrew it. Cherri left for her act. Marina scrambled to fix her makeup. The drawing got a vote of approval before she replaced a returned Cherri.
White robe went on, then Cherri grabbed me, sketchbook still open. “Your man is still in the hall.”
Indy! I gathered up everything, and rushed to the hallway.
He waited there. I was stuffing my supplies back together as he peeled off the wall. “I got sidetracked. Thank you for being so patient with me.”
He smiled.
Indy
Seeing Edie at the strip club put some things in context for me. One, she wasn’t out of her element. I peeked in to see what was taking her so long. What I saw was the very same Edie who’d whipped out a sketchbook at the bar last night. This time, doing her thing backstage around very beautiful women. In her house, at a bar, in a dimly lit dressing-room, it was Edie and her art. She instantly got comfortable and created something magical. Roses caught on time-lapse images do that. If I left her there, and got a drink and then got caught up talking business, she wouldn’t get mad. But honestly, putting my comfort over hers? Not an option. Mostly, she deserved more.
Those wheels in my head got going. This morning, I sent the photos of her designs to my guy in Vegas, but now, it was working overtime. Friends of friends who knew someone were all going to get hit up. I’d set Vega up with an audition while I was at it, so she’d have a friend there. It was all clicking and clacking away. TomTom would have to come, too. He could protect the girls if I wasn’t welcome anymore.
T
he plan in my head worked through scenarios and possibilities after seeing Edie drive safely away from the strip club. It distracted me until I landed at a bar stool, and then my lips joined the rest of my body.
“Shot.”
The brother behind the bar laid out cheap tequila. Not my first choice, but it worked for my mood. It went down hard.
One more went back. Getting drunk would keep me from being stupid two nights in a row. No one drunk enough would take the twenty-mile drive to park his ass at Edie’s.
But unfortunately, when your heart and dick call the shots, and your brain is preoccupied with calls to Vegas and LA, and making plans, you forget all about getting drunk.
It was about beer three, and no more shots when Walt parked his ass beside mine.
“Hear you almost killed a customer a few hours ago.” He took a swig, and spun his stool around to watch the show. He was likely here waiting for Mary to finish her shift. They’d circled each other for so long it made me push her at him. That wasn’t technically breaking the rules because they’d both been using my rules to stay apart. Subsequently, they make me miserable by putting me in the middle of their shit. Now everyone was happier. I know I was.
I set down my phone. I’d been texting a friend of Jimmy G’s at the Mirage. Walt hated smartphones. Used his cell phone to talk like an old busybody, but never texted, never looked shit up. He just did, or didn’t. Talk was a did. Apps were a didn’t. He was already pissed at me about the customer. Doing something obviously on his didn’t-list stopped in his presence.
“Didn’t kill him.” You call that splitting hairs.
“What pissed you off? Not like you.”
It wasn’t. Girls got in shit, I was the peacemaker, the redirection guy. The guy with a very good reason why shit shouldn’t start. Sometimes I dropped shit, but mostly it was all just good fun that got blurry with lines. It was time for another shot.