by N. C. Reed
“That's fine,” he nodded. “Why I gave it to you.”
“Just so you know,” she shrugged. “It's a lot of money.”
“I got money,” Clay said without thinking. “Don't worry about it. Spend what you need to.”
“Where are you getting the money for all this, son?” Gordon asked.
“Discussion for another time, Gordon,” Leon cut in. “What else do we need to know or do right now?”
“Just start gathering what's on that list,” Deuce pointed to the folder he'd given Clay. “We're working on the rest. You three will have to decide how to approach Aunt Patricia and Uncle Robert.”
“About what?” Leon asked.
“Medicine and radios,” Leanne replied. “Why go outside when we have experts in the family.”
“Perfect.”
-
Despite any urgency that might be felt for the possible upcoming disaster, life had to continue on as regular for the present, and that meant work had to be done. Fences repaired, crops sprayed, hay cut, baled and stored, repairs made. And harvest was coming closer and closer.
Fridays were still football nights, and Abigail had taken to inviting Samantha Walters to sit with her at the last two games, something that annoyed Clay to no end and tickled his mother greatly.
“She's a nice girl, Clayton,” his mother told him at lunch one Friday when Clay had wondered aloud if Samantha would show up again. “Comes from a-”
“-good family, I got it,” Clay cut her off, something he rarely did. “Mom, she's a child. I realize she's legally an adult at Abby's age, and while not that much younger than I am she's a world of experience away from someone like me.”
“She'll soon be twenty-one years old if she's not already,” Angela Sanders pointed out. “That's more that legally an adult, Clayton. And you've barely spoken to the girl, so how do you know what experiences separate you?”
“What does she do, Mom?” Clay asked.
“She's a student and works part time at Parker's Grocery in Peabody,” Angela replied, frowning at the question. “Why?”
“When I was her age, I was prowling the mountains of Afghanistan dragging Taliban fighters out of their caves and killing them,” Clay said flatly. “What am I supposed to talk to her about Mom?” He didn't wait for an answer but got up from the lunch table and walked outside, leaving a half-eaten lunch on the table, something he hadn't done once since being home.
“Angela,” Gordon had remained silent until now. “Stop pushing him. He has to deal with stuff his own way, and that may not be a way you want or even like.”
“I...I mean I knew, of course,” she sat down, her towel on the table in front of her. “Intellectually I knew where he'd been. What he'd done. I just never. . .I didn't put it together like that,” she admitted. There were no tears, she was stronger than that, but she was clearly upset.
“You knew intellectually, but that's a far cry from knowing first hand,” Gordon nodded. “Let this go,” he said as they heard Clay's truck fire up. Seconds later it was roaring down the drive and out onto the road.
“He'll be back,” Gordon said as Angela got up to follow the truck up the road with her eyes. “He always is. Let him be.”
-
Clay was on the Interstate before he realized where he was headed. He laughed at the idea but then decided 'why not'. He was already part of the way there, after all.
Two hours later he was in the rear parking lot of the Kitty Kat Klub, wondering what he was doing. And if it was a good idea.
“Ah, what the hell,” he decided, getting out of his truck and starting for the door. It wasn't time for the place to be open yet, but it was a Friday and there were plenty of cars already there, likely employees. Dancers, bartenders, waitresses and bouncers.
He rang the buzzer and waited. It was about two minutes before Brick opened the door.
“Clay,” he nodded. He stepped back without a question and let Clay inside.
“She's upstairs,” he said as he secured the door.
“How do you know why I'm here?” Clay asked.
“Why else would you be here?” he smirked.
“Fair enough,” Clay nodded as he started up the stairs. Brick's voice stopped him.
“Clay?”
“Yeah?” he turned.
“Be careful with her,” the huge bouncer warned. “She looks and acts tough, but she's not, okay?”
“I got that talk from Leon,” Clay nodded. “And if it makes you feel better, I just needed to talk to her. That's all.”
“That's what they all say,” Brick smirked again. Then with a wave he went back to work. Shaking his head, Clay continued on up the stairs, stopping in front of the office door. He knocked and waited.
A dark-haired woman wearing entirely too much make-up and a very tacky robe opened the door.
“Who the hell are you and how did you get up here, Cowboy?” she demanded.
“Cowboy?” he heard Lainie say before he could answer. “Chanel, wait!”
“You better get your ass back downstairs before I call-” 'Chanel' started but Lainie got there in time to stop her.
“Chanel, that's enough,” her voice rang with command. “You have no idea who you're talking to for one thing. For another, he's here to see me, not you, so I'll do the talking thank you very much. And you need to be getting ready anyway since you open tonight, right?”
“Humph,” 'Chanel' replied, moving by Clay and down the stairs without looking back.
“Nice lady,” Clay said with a nod, turning back to Lainie. He hadn't really gotten a good look at her before, blocked as the door had been by 'Chanel'. He did now.
“Damn,” he couldn't stop himself from saying.
Red hair pulled into a top knot ponytail, Lainie was wearing a bustier that left no doubt at all she was a grown woman and a pair of black jeans that looked like they'd been painted on. Her makeup wasn't done yet, but he wasn't sure she'd ever needed it.
“Like what you see, Cowboy?” she asked, brazenly modeling for him by doing a spin on her three inch heeled boots.
“Ah, yeah,” he admitted. “But I already knew you were a damn fine looking woman, Lainie,” he chuckled. “You don't have to prove it.”
Her face went beet red at that and he wondered if he'd said too much but she smiled at him, almost shyly.
“Well, c'mon in,” she told him, walking back into the office and taking a seat. “Sit down. What brings you here?”
“No idea other than you,” he admitted, startling her. “I left the house in a huff and was on the Interstate when I realized where I was going. Decided I'd go with it. That used to work in the Army, so why not here, right?”
“Why were you in such a huff?” she asked, secretly pleased that he had thought to come see her at such a time.
He sat back, explaining what had happened and why he was upset, including what he had said to his mother.
“I shouldn't have said that,” he told her. “I really shouldn't have.”
“Why not?” Lainie asked. “Was it true?”
“Yeah, it's true,” he rubbed his face with his hands. “Mister and Missus Sanders' baby boy isn't an angel by any means.”
“Well, I never took you for an angel to start with,” Lainie smirked. “So your rep is safe with me, Cowboy.”
“Thanks,” he said dryly. “I just. . .why in the hell can they not let me be about this?” he asked her. “What is it that makes them want me to be 'hooked up' so bad, as Abby calls it?”
“Human nature, Clay,” Lainie shrugged, for once not calling him 'Cowboy'. “They want what they think is best for you. That might not necessarily be what you want, but they at least want what's best for you. Not everyone has that,” she reminded him.
“I know, and thanks for making me feel like a bigger heel,” he sighed. “I honestly don't mean it like that, I don't. But what would me and a girl like her have in common? What do I talk to her about?”
“What do you talk to m
e about?” she asked.
“That's different,” he waved a hand of dismissal. “You're different.”
“Why? Because I'm a stripper?” she demanded coldly.
“Because you're a grown up,” he shot back, surprising her. “You're mature and adult. You didn't look aghast just now at the idea that I had been dragging men out of their caves and killing them like dogs, now did you? How do you think little Debbie Debutante would react to that? Or her goody two shoes mommy working at 'Vandy',” he made air quotes. “She thinks I'm worth knowing,” he laughed bitterly.
Lainie had recovered from her momentary bitterness that Clay might see her as inferior and was now becoming concerned.
“You are worth knowing, Clayton Sanders,” she said gently, rising from her chair to go and sit beside him on the sofa. “Very much so.”
“I'm a thief and a killer,” he told her flatly.
“And I'm a stripper that runs a night club,” she smiled wanly. “We sound like a terrible pair, don't we?”
“I suppose so,” he chuckled. “Guess that's why Leon likes us so much.”
“Probably,” she grimaced comically. She looked at a clock and frowned.
“I'm keeping you from your work,” he told her, getting to his feet despite her attempts to keep him beside her. “I'm sorry about that Lainie,” he said earnestly. “I'm not usually one for self-pity like that. Maybe you can just let it slide this one time?” he grinned at her and she laughed.
“You know,” she stood, “if you weren't so cute you couldn't get away with nearly as much shit.”
“Lucky me then,” he laughed. “I guess I should go,” he sighed. “Long drive back.”
“Stay,” she shrugged easily. “You have before. Your room is empty,” she grinned.
“I better go and face the music I imagine,” he sighed. “I'll get an earful from my mother for leaving like that. Probably get a stern face from my dad, too. And it's Friday. Dammit!” he swore suddenly and she drew back.
“My nephew had a game tonight and I'm missing it!” he looked at his watch. “There's no way,” he shook his head. “It's an away game and an hour the other way from home,” he groaned. “I can't even make it by half-time!”
“So stay,” Lainie repeated, feeling like Fate was helping her for once. “Like I said I-” the phone ringing cut her off.
“Hang on,” she said as she moved to answer.
“Lainie,” she said. Clay watched her as she spoke on the phone.
“What?” Frown. Expression of surprise.
“Are you serious?” Anger.
“Well that's just great!” she snapped. Frustration. “And she was third up, wasn't she?” Hand to her forehead. Resignation.
“Perfect.” Sigh of acceptance. “No. Hell no, she's fired!” Anger again. “I'll start looking for a replacement Monday.”
“Yes, I know it leaves us with a hole.” Roll of the eyes. “I will. Who else?” Disgust.
“Yes. Fine,” she looked at a clock on her desk. “Maybe three hours. All right. Thanks.” She slammed the phone down with a bit more force than might have been needed.
“Problems?” he asked carefully.
“I'm afraid so,” she sighed. “One of my dancers was arrested this afternoon for drug possession and shop lifting. Can you believe that?” she was incredulous. “Shop lifting, with all the money she makes here! How stupid can you be,” she was shaking her head.
“Have that problem a lot?” Clay asked.
“Almost never,” she shook her head, ponytail swishing from side to side behind her. “I hired this girl about three months ago as a favor to a friend. She did okay at first and was pretty popular, but she started missing after about six weeks. I warned her more than once that missing so much was grounds for dismissal, because it makes it so difficult on the rest of us. Now this,” she sighed in exasperation. She had been working herself into an evening with her favorite cowboy and now that was ruined. Damn that girl!
“Well,” Clay sighed. “I was about to ask if you could take the night off and us go out to dinner, but I can see that's out of the question, now.”
“Thanks, Cowboy,” she murmured. “For making me feel more like shit that I already did.”
“I didn't mean to,” he said at once.
“That wasn't really for you,” she shook her head again. “I had been thinking the same thing,” she grinned at him. “No such luck, now. I can't have holes in the show on a Friday night. I 'll have to take her place.”
“I hate to miss it,” Clay said mischievously. She looked at him.
“Don't,” she said simply.
“What?”
“Don't miss it,” she said, moving back to where he was standing. “Stay here as my guest, at my table. You just might enjoy the show,” she winked at him.
“Ah, well,” he temporized. Did he really want to watch Lainie dancing nearly naked in front of a bunch of other men?
And where did that thought come from? he wondered as soon as he thought it.
“Afraid you'll like it?” she smiled at him.
“I'm sure I'll like it,” he told her honestly. “I'm wondering how much I'll like how much others like it.”
“Jealous type, Cowboy?” Lainie teased.
“I can be,” he nodded, turning serious. “I don't think this is a good idea,” he said finally.
“Come on, where's the harm,” she cajoled. “Surely you've been to a strip club before! You were in the Army!”
“I have, but not when I knew one of the dancers,” he nodded. Especially one I'm starting to think about entirely too much, he admitted to himself.
“It 'll be a treat, then!” she bubbled. “Now, I have to go and get ready. It takes a long time for me to get ready to look sexy,” she winked.
“I doubt that very much,” he told her.
“I'll tell Brick to sit you at my table. No one else will be there tonight. Try not to tear the place down,” she said over her shoulder as she made her way out.
“No promises,” he warned.
“That's fine,” she laughed and then was gone.
“This is a bad idea,” he sighed to himself. “What the hell,” he shrugged. He sent a text message to his nephew Leon to let him know to tell the family that he was okay, but would not be home until tomorrow. That done he headed down the stairs himself, wondering what he was getting himself into.
-
“Did he say where he was?” Angela asked.
“No, Grandma, just that he was okay and he'd be home tomorrow,” her grandson reported for the third time.
“Angela, enough,” Gordon told her firmly as they sat in the visitor's bleachers. The game was starting. “He's a grown man. He'll be fine.”
“He should be here,” she huffed.
“And would be if certain people allowed him to enjoy the game instead of trying to put him into a different one,” he nodded. “Now that's enough. You and Abigail can explain to Gordy why Clay isn't here.”
A mighty frown at that, but no other arguments.
-
“What?” Leon answered his phone with his usual grace and candor.
“Old Man,” Clay's voice came through. “I sent the Younger a message that I wouldn't be home until tomorrow, but I didn't tell him where I was.”
“Well, where are you?” Leon demanded. “I assume that's why you called me.”
“I'm at Lainie's,” Clay told him simply. He couldn't see it, but Leon smiled broadly at that.
“What in the hell are you doing up there?” he growled to cover his reaction.
“No idea,” Clay replied honestly. “But she's having to dance tonight because one of her girls didn't show. She asked me to stay and watch and. . .well, I'm going to.”
“Remember she's done that a long time and don't tear the place down,” Leon said simply.
“I will. I just thought I'd let you know where I was in case anything happened.”
“All right. Good night boy. Have fun.”
/> “Night Old Man.”
Leon hung up the phone, humming.
-
Ty nursed one drink through two sets of scantily clad beauties, the first of which had been Chanel, who had somehow managed to glare at him when she spotted him at the manager's table and still smile at everyone else. Clay decided that was a hell of a talent and a better one than any of her dance moves. Of course no one here was really interested in her dancing.
He watched as guys threw money on stage or tried in vain to stuff the money into G-strings only to be rebuffed by burly bouncers who surrounded the stage. Dancers would circle the stage and take tips from the guys on the floor, but there was absolutely no touchy, no feely. He had settled back into the comfortable, overstuffed bench seat and crossed his legs when the lights changed, the stage going dark.
“And now, gentlemen, a rare treat and genuine surprise for our guests this evening as The Kitty Kat Klub is proud to present, coming now to center stage, the one, the only...FaaaaaaLAME!” The announcer sounded like he was calling the card of a fight instead of announcing a-
Clay's thought process jarred to a halt as the spotlight flickered to life much like a neon light might have done. Sitting backwards on a straight-backed chair, head down, facing the audience, was Lainie.
“Flame,” he snorted at the mane of red hair that was flowing everywhere around her. “I should have guessed.”
He recognized the drum beat as soon as it came on. Enigma's 'Sadness Pt 1' from long ago, at least to him. He watched as her booted left foot tapped in rhythm to the drum but otherwise she didn't move. That did nothing to settled the crowd, which had literally gone wild as soon as her name had been announced. Men had begun throwing money on the stage before she ever moved. And when she moved, boy did she ever.
Her head popped up, face still hidden behind her hair as her hands made intricate waves around and before her, rising until they were high over her head. Clay noted absently how defined her muscles were as her hands descended to caress her body on their way back to the seat of the chair. Only then did any other part of her move.
Supporting her weight on her hands, she slowly extended her legs until they were straight out to her sides, holding herself elevated off of the chair with apparent ease as she did so. After holding that pose for a moment, she continued to move, her torso pushing forward to expose the top of her cleavage even as her legs began to swing behind her. Soon her body was horizontal straight out behind her, her weight still suspended only on her hands in a move one would expect of a gymnast. Again, she held this pose for a moment, crowd going wild, then her legs began to rise from behind her until she was doing a handstand on the chair.