A Lil' Less Hopeless (13 page)

Satisfied that the water is just the right level of
oh my God I could fall asleep in here,
I slip in and slide myself down until the warm liquid envelops me within.

“’Kay. I'll see you in the morning then.” Jess's voice trails off as she moves further away from the bathroom door. The telltale thudding of the main door confirms that she has in fact left, and given me the peace and quiet I crave.

I'm not sure who talks more, Jess or Chris. I've had to listen to the both of them ramble on about everything from favorite bands to must-see movies for hours on end. The quiet is inviting. I close my eyes and lose myself in the glorious comfort the bath offers. It may not be nearly as luxurious as my claw foot tub back home, but it'll do just fine tonight.

Time slips by as absentminded thoughts waft in and out of my consciousness. I stretch my sore muscles, searching for the sweet spot that will dull their ache. The water begins to cool itself as the night grows later. My fingers are pruned and growing pale. Calmed and soothed, I crawl from my bath, dry and wrap myself in a blanket-sized towel, and slip into the plush bed nearest me.

I will not be dreaming tonight, exhaustion guaranteeing a deep level of sleep ahead of me. I welcome it. For my own sanity, I cannot visit the thoughts that plague me. There's always tomorrow for that. Tonight... I just need... sleep.

******

“And, where were you last night?”

Jess is not prepared for my question. She looks around, settles her eyes on her nails and fixates on some small chip in her perfect manicure.

“Hmmm?”

I move closer to her, bowing down to catch her eyes as they try so purposely to avoid me.

“Jess?”

“What?” She gets defensive. “I... Oh, stop! I'm an adult.”

I shake my head and help gather the clothes scattered about the room. We've been here for a grand total of eight or so hours, yet we've managed to turn the place into your stereotypical girl's room complete with clothes piles and makeup buffet.

We all know I'm not the driving force behind this stereotypical behavior. Jess is all about glam today. Finally satisfied with her chosen style, she allows us to clear out and head down to the breakfast area.

Dropping our things at an unoccupied table, I attack the breakfast layout, heaping piles of yummy deliciousness. I'm just about finished with my first plate and am ready to make a repeat visit to the pancake station when Chris decides to grace us with his presence.

I greet him with a mouth full of scrambled eggs as he pulls up a seat, fixing his own cup of coffee. I notice Jess taking a sudden keen interest in the gooey pastry in her hand, and not the handsome sleep-deprived man joining our meal. Hmmm...

If the two of them are going to play this game, I might as well have some fun of my own. I barely know Chris, Pretty Boy, Special Agent Gibson... or whatever he wants to call himself these days. Let's see what he's made of.

“You look damn tired there, Chris.” He grunts his agreement with my findings. “Didn't sleep well?” Another grunt.

Time to step it up a notch. “Jess?...” I bite the inside of my cheek to hold in my smile. “Did he sleep well?”

Chris showers his place setting with coffee, taken aback by my bluntness. Jess drops her muffin, and stares at the crumbs in shock. That's more like it.

“Aww... don't worry kids.” I wink at both of them. “Your secret's safe with me. Just play safe and don't start grossing me out with PDA.”

I leave the not-so clandestine lovers to themselves and make another round of the breakfast buffet, packing up a little care package for the road.

******

Ugh. It's like a Goddamned oven. Tourville, Texas, is like one giant convection oven full of grease and someone lit a match. I need AC, like... pronto! Jess and I find that relief in the interior of the nearest ladies’ shop. where I quickly purchase a few outfits and necessities to tide me over. Vey light weight, loose-fitting cotton pieces that won't suffocate me any more than this sweltering heat already has.

Chris was pretty surprised at our final destination, simply following my turn by turn directions as I followed the prompts on my cell phone navigation app. Not trusting him to ditch us at the first opportunity, and go searching for his perp on his own, I've kept the information limited and on a need-to-know basis. According to the welcome sign that greeted us as we passed into town through the main road, the population of this “Tiny Texas Treasure” (their words, not mine) is 7,409. Make that 7,410 now that a certain silicone slut is in town.

The exact street address of the tramp is safely tucked away in my memory, only to be given up at the very last possible moment. Until then, Chris is none too happy to follow directions and make himself useful by procuring us a couple of hotel rooms to shower up and make a home base.

Chris joins us as we exit the quaint clothing store and immediately makes a grab for the parcels. Ah... so he's a gentleman. I walk slightly ahead of my new bellboy, and call back to him.

“Someone's momma raised him right! Very nice, Jess.”

The receptionist at the small bed and breakfast-styled inn that Chris found for us, greets us warmly.

“Mr. Gibson... your rooms are ready.” He holds out two metal keys for us.

I reach out and swipe both of them, turning to my two companions. “Let's not play the same game as last night, hmm? You two take this one,” I hand Jess the key in my right hand, “and I'll get some peace and quiet not wondering where my good friend has run off to.”

******

A cold shower is just what the doctor ordered. I slip into some of my new clothes, a gauzy little sundress and some cowboy boots. When in Rome, right? Leaving my still-damp hair loose to air dry, I pray that it won't frizz, but bring a back up clip just in case.

With Jess and Chris nowhere in sight, I wander down through the comfortably coordinated main lounge. The owners have a penchant for plaid and wallpaper, as the rooms are seamlessly decorated with both. Helping myself to a glass of iced tea and a few cookies from a large silver platter, I head out to one of the massive looking wooden rockers on the front porch.

The sun hangs low in the afternoon sky. Another long day of driving. But, we've finally made it. We're so close and yet not nearly where we need to be. I need this to be over, with that bitch rotting away behind bars. I need Jay to be home, with me, doing some random normal thing that I'll never take for granted again.

A sleepy-looking Jess joins me on the porch, choosing to occupy the hanging wooden love seat swing.

“The iced tea is fantastic,” I inform her.

She eyes my glass appreciatively, but shows no sign of getting her own.

“Have you seen Chris? He was gone when I woke up.”

I stop myself, mid-gulp. “What do you mean, he was gone? Did you two have an argument or something.”

Jess's cheeks begin to shade themselves crimson. “No... we... after we fell asleep, he just left.”

I stand quickly, perhaps too quickly. The unrelenting heat around us socks it to me, and I feel a dizzy spell taunt me.

“That son of a bitch! He's going to look for Vicky without us.”

Moving to the slightly cooler, although not properly air-conditioned, interior of the building, I approach the front desk. Surrendering my emptied tumbler to her, I ask the oddest of questions.

“Does this town have a strip club? Where can I find it?”

She looks at me, dumbfounded by my bluntness. I am in God’s country after all. Deep-south God country. While every one of these towns has at least one booming strip club, it's probably not something good little girls go asking to find.

“Umm... your friend. The gentleman that you came with already asked me that same question.”

I knew it! Damn little fucker can't bear to sit tight and take orders from a little lady. He needs to step up and steal the show.

“It's over on Hampton Street. Doesn't open for a little while, though. We've got laws for keeping it closed till sundown.”

I'm sure they do. I'd bet a fistful of hundreds that those same men who passed those
laws,
are some of the establishment's best customers. Hypocrites.

“Thank you,” I reply.

Jess and I split up momentarily to retrieve our handbags from our respective rooms, and meet once again on the front porch.

“What do we do now, Jules?” she prods.

I take a deep breath. I had originally planned to send Chris and Jess in as a couple. An appealingly sexually adventurous couple visiting a strip club together. Now that plan's shot to hell. I can't very well send Jess in by herself. On one hand, I think she'd probably die of embarrassment, having all those people think she was the “sort of girl” to go there alone. Second, that would draw attention to herself in an unwanted way. I needed them to be completely incognito, so as not to spook Vicky only to have her take off.

A cleaned-up Chris, looks very different from the pretty boy Vicky would remember, especially in the dark of a strip club, but I didn't want to take any chances. If he were there with a female companion, like Jess, he would have been able to hide his face in conversation with her. Damn him!

“I don't know, Jess. We can't very well go strutting in there. She knows me. She'll run the second she sees me. And... I promised Jay I wouldn't get too close.”

Jess takes a deep breath, searching her fingernails, her shoes, for some magical answer.

“But...” it appears she may have found one somewhere in-between, “she doesn't know me... I could get close and then trip her up long enough for Chris to swoop in.”

I eye her suspiciously. Thoughts of Em suddenly flash before me. I can't ask another one of my friends to put herself in that kind of danger. I couldn't live with it. It was one thing for her to just help Chris get into the place. It was another thing entirely for her to get close to Vicky. The woman is a murderer after all. Chris is a trained law enforcement officer. Jess is a trained serial shopper and social debutante.

“No... I can't let you do that. It's way too dangerous, Jess,” I protest.

Jess waives me off with a graceful twirl of her hand. “Don't be silly, Jules. We haven't got much of a choice here. I mean, it's the perfect cover.”

I'm lost. “
What's
the perfect cover?”

She smiles. “Places like that are always looking for new talent, right? How hard can it be to swing around a pole and take men's money?”

My eyes widen. Holy shit.

“Jess... I don't know about that. It takes.... you're too much of a good girl.”

Jess raises her chin in pride. “Oh, I can be a bad girl, Jules. You have no idea....”

JESSICA

So, this is what one of these places looks like. Hmm, who knew? Well, actually, most of the male population probably knows. But, it's not exactly the type of conversation that weaves its way into the chatter over at the yacht club.

It was easier than I had anticipated to get into, though. They should really rethink their security around here. These girls are probably walking out with hundreds of dollars a night. I know daddy always says the first rule to running a successful business is to cover all bases and protect your product. Theoretically, these girls are a type of product. After this is all over, I should really recommend one of daddy's consulting firms to the manager.

If I ever even get to meet him. I've been waiting in this damn office for nearly thirty minutes waiting for him to grace me with his presence. The bouncer at the door gave me a pretty thorough once-over before leading me back here. The manager's office was deep in the back of the place. I had tried to search the crowd of Stetson hats and shadowed faces while walking through, but the main room was too dark to spot him from afar.

The office I find myself in is not much brighter. The longer I sit and wait, the more I ponder the business model this place must follow. It must be a cash cow. Although catering to a slightly unsavory crowd, there could be opportunity in an operation like this. I'll have to talk about some possibilities to daddy about investing in a club like this.

The door behind me opens, with a rush of music following. “Hello there, darlin'. Jose’ tells me you're interested in some work.”

I don't need to turn to face the approaching voice, as he quickly passes me and seats himself behind the paper-cluttered desk before me. The slick looking suit seems new, the Stetson old. He appears to be in his mid-forties or so, clean shaven, piercing eyes. All around sleezeball in a nice package.

I clear my throat and perk up my chest a little.

“I'm Candy.” I reach my hand out to greet the gentleman, and I use that term loosely.

He leans slightly over his mounding desk and takes hold of my hand. “The pleasure is all mine, little lady.” He tugs my hand closer to him and plants his moist lips onto the back of my hand. He lingers there a tad too long, and I swear I feel the pressure of his slimy tongue on my skin. I wriggle my hand free and reclaim it. He chuckles a little at my obvious discomfort.

“The name’s Nick. Friends call me Nicky Fishy. Employees don't. Do you have any experience, darling?”

I raise my head smartly, while wiping the back of my hand on my skirt. “I do. I've been attending stripper cardio classes over at Pump Fitness for three years.”

Nick the Fish flashes a wicked, knowing smile. “Ah... I thought you looked a little wet behind the ears.”

I stir slightly, not knowing whether to take that as a compliment.

“I'm a nice guy, though. You've got that well-bred, society, good girl thing going for you. My customers are gonna eat that up. I'll give you a try. One of my regulars just got knocked up, gonna be out of rotation for a little while. You can have her spot if all goes well tonight. Let's make it official, shall we?”

My eyes light up. I think that was a formal job offer. Nick makes his way around the table.

“Stand up, little lady.” I oblige him. I hold my hand out in customary fashion. Nick promptly drops to his knees in front of me. “Throw your leg up on my shoulder, darlin'.”

I panic.
What
? Is he serious? My attempts to hide my panic go unnoticed.

“Relax, girl... just checking out the grooming situation. We have strict guidelines around these parts.”

I swallow hard. There's a lot riding on this. Julia is depending on me, so is Jay. I can't let them down.

I carefully slip my right foot back out of my sandal and place it lightly on Nick's shoulder. He smiles, an evil, distorted smile. He casually removes his hat and throws it onto the nearby couch. I can see a balding patch dead center of his greasy, slicked-back hair.

“That's it, darlin', open wide for daddy to take a look see. Make sure the goods are up to par. I stretch my hips just as far as the tight confines of my skirt will allow.

Nick dips his head low to clear the hemline and the forefront of his face disappears under it. I hear a loud swishing sound, followed almost immediately by a warm sticky breeze up my inner thighs. The bastard is sniffing me.

“Mmmm. That's top notch snatch right there.”

He quickly reappears and stands tall in front of me, darkness covering his eyes as they play a wicked dance over my body.

“I don't usually hold the final interview until after I've seen you on stage, but I think I need to make an exception this one time.”

I hear a distinct unzipping sound as Nick’s shoulders move. I cannot bring myself to lower my gaze to see what his hands are doing. The deep knot in the pit of my stomach tells me what's happening without having to look.

“Let's get to it,” he says nonchalantly. “You've got to finish up and get ready for your set.”

Hell no. Jules and Chris will just have to find another way. A quick knock at the door, breaks the tension and saves Nick the Fish from a swift kick in the nuts.

“Boss... we got a high roller looking for a one night special with Vicky.”

Jose’ enters the room, with a large shadowy figure behind him, lurking in the shadow of the hallway. Nick promptly lifts himself, tucking and zipping his crotch up.

“Shit, boy! I told you I'm in the middle of an interview here,” Nick reprimands him. I thank my lucky stars for the intrusion.

Jose’ barely looks flustered at the apparent scene he just interrupted.

“Sorry, Boss.”

Nick picks up his Stetson and returns it to its place on his skeevy little head.

“Whatever. We'll continue this later,” he assures me.

“Jose’,” he now turns his attention to the interloper. “This here is Candy. She's new. Show her the dressing room and get her ready to take Vixen's spot.”

I swallow hard and creep past, out of Nick's clutches to the entryway. My heart stops when I hear the voice.

“I think after I take a turn with this Vicky I've been hearing about, I'll try this one, too.”

Oh God, no.

I look up into Chris's eyes. I barely know him, nothing but a couple of nights and some weird connection under our belts, but I can read his eyes. Anger. He hates that I'm here. His harsh hand swoops out and roughly grabs my breast. His thumb jabs in through the opening between buttons on my blouse and finds its way to my hardened nipple.

“Excuse me,
sir
.” I try to hide the shivers working their way through my body at his touch.

“Just testing out the merchandise, sweetheart.”

He promptly pinches my nipple between his finger pads, hard enough to try an illicit some response. I don't give him the satisfaction. He does it again, harder. Oh, God. My eyes roll back, forgetting that I'm in some seedy back room of some sleazy strip club.

Nick clears his throat, heartily, behind me. “Payment is made first, Mr....”

“Hardy.” Chris doesn't lift his eyes from me as he answers Nick. “The name's Dalton Hardy.”

“Yes, well, Mr. Hardy. I may be able to work out some sort of package. But, this here Candy is a newbie. Price is gonna be steep for a deluxe introduction.”

Chris’s next pinch latches on, allowing no mercy to my tender electrified nipple. “I understand completely. I think she'll be worth every penny.”

And with that, he releases me and walks past me into the manager's office. “Now... about this Vicky girl. I hear she's quite the lady.”

Anger sears through me. The sound of his words asking to hire the “services” of that tramp, are like sharp icicles piercing into my fiery heart. Undercover or not, the thought of him touching anyone but me infuriates me. I know we have no claim on each other. What are a couple of sex-crazed nights in the middle of an adrenaline filled experience worth, anyway? We come from two different worlds, he and I. They just happen to be intersecting momentarily.

******

The dressing room is tight, cramped. Makeup and scant costumes tossed about. The other girls barely raise their heads in recognition of my presence as Jose’ introduces me. I search around. None of them match the description of this Vicky chick. I quickly change into the tiny bikini styled uniform that I am given and thank God when I find the tags still attached. At least I know I won't be catching anything that would require antibiotics from my little undercover stint.

One of the smaller girls with a kind face looks over.

“Hi! I'm Kristy!” She extends a long acrylic finger-tipped hand to me. I take it.

“I'm Candy. It's my first night.”

She giggles. She seems young. Very young. “I figured. You don't look... like the rest of us.”

I'm sure that's true in more ways than one. The most obvious being my average-sized boobs. Let's just say they don't quite fill out my top the way hers do.

Kristy perks up at the sudden announcement of her name over the loudspeaker. Apparently... she's on next. “Well, good luck, sweetie. I'll see you later.”

With Kristy gone, some of the other girls take her lead and warm up to me. I plant some bait. “I had some random man ask for a package deal, with me and some girl named Vicky.”

The girls exchange glances.

“Wow... Nick's starting you up already, huh?” Some blond, I forgot her name already, says. “The tips are good, but private appointments are where the real money is. Vicky's been pretty busy with those, for a new girl and all. She's doing one right now upstairs. She's a pro. Been doing it a long time back where she's from, I think. She'll show you the ropes.”

She greases herself up with some kind of oil, but decides to give me a little more of her attention. “Make sure they use a condom, doll.” She shakes her head in disgust. “They always try to get away with that shit.”

OMG. This place is a whorehouse! These women are prostituting themselves out. The feminist activist in me wants to scream and tell these women to run like hell and not be exploited anymore. But I know their lives are more complicated than I can imagine and there are probably some pretty deep-seated reasons as to why they're here.

I try to shake it off, keep my cover. “Sure, thing.”

Our conversation abruptly ends as Jose’ storms in again, eyes lingering on the exposed flesh of the dressing strippers.

“Uh... Candy! You've got a private client before your set. Follow me, I'll take you upstairs to one of the private lounges.”

I gulp hard. I swear, it better be Chris.

“Sure, let me just grab...” I think fast.
What sounds plausible?
“...my stash of rubbers.”

It must have been believable, because Jose’ doesn't bat an eyelash as I dig into my purse. I stick my phone into my little coin purse to conceal it, and carry the small pouch loosely in my hand as I follow the bouncer/bodyguard out.

As I'm leaving, I overhear some voices from behind. “I guess she's more experienced than she looks.”

Glad to know I can realistically pass for a hooker if need be.

******

The bedroom-sized “lounge” is complete with a satin sheet covered queen sized bed and leather seating. There's a bedside chest with bottles of lotions and little plastic “accessories”.

I unzip my small coin pouch and swipe across the screen of my phone. I select the microphone app I downloaded last semester for recording Professor Green's sociology classes. Hiding my voice activated phone behind one of the leather chairs, I quickly take a seat on the edge of the bed and cross my legs as I hear the door handle jiggling.

A tall, blonde, negligee-clad woman with massive boobs barely covered in neglige struts in. “Oh.” She notices me. “I guess this is a group appointment. Look here, darlin'...” I can't help but get the same sleazy vibe as I did for Nick when she uses his catch phrase. “Keep your affections on the John. We don't touch unless he throws some extra cash our way, got it?”

I nod blankly.
Please
let the client be Chris. I'm gonna freak if this is a real “appointment.”

“Uh, sure.” I hold out my hand. She eyes it, but decides against shaking it, leaving me in that awkward position. “I'm Candy. Nice to meet you... uh... Vicky, is it?” I bring my hand back in.

The woman busies herself with some last minute grooming. “That's right. You the new girl?” She barely looks at me as she's speaking, as if I'm not worth her full attentions. Bitch.

“Yeah,” I answer. “I'm new. First time.” I think fast. “This is my first time. I'm actually glad I'm not alone. I was nervous how to handle it if things turned bad. I've heard some of these guys can get rough.”

Vicky snorts is an evil laughter kind of way. “Don't worry, princess.” I don't exactly like the way she says the nickname. It's very condescending, but I play along. “I know just how to handle these assholes. I've had more than enough practice.”

Now we're getting somewhere. My eyes instinctively dart over to the hidden corner. I see the faint red light flashing, indicating that the phone is still recording. I press further. “Yeah, you look like you can take care of yourself. Guys probably think twice before messing with you, right?”