Gorilla Beach (29 page)

“Hungry?” asked Bella, smiling.

Gia turned toward the waitress and said, “We need a bowl of water for the dogs. A chicken burrito and … Whoa. Erin!”

Hearing her name, the waitress looked up from her order pad for the first time. “Gia?” asked the former pit boss. “Bella?”

“Whatthefuckareyoudoinghere?”

“I got fired,” said Erin, apparently surprised to see them, too. “This was the only job I could find for sixty miles.”

“All roads lead to Seaside,” said Maria.

“At least the Parkway and the Turnpike,” agreed Bella.

“You got fired?” asked Gia.

“Didn't Fredo tell you?”

“He's not talking to us since we got thrown out of Nero's, too. That place isn't good enough for the likes of us,” Gia said, and burped defiantly. She introduced Erin and Maria. “Where are you staying?”

“In this boxy condo on Hancock Ave. It's all cinder block and depressing as hell. I feel like I'm in prison.”

Gia and Bella groaned. “We know the place,” said Bella. “Frickin' Stanley.”

“You know Stanley Crumbi? He's my landlord. Nice guy, although, he seems kind of manic.”

Maria let out a sob.

Erin said, “Um, I'll put in your order.”

After their feast, Erin gave them the check and said, “My shift is over. It's great seeing you guys again. Pleasure to meet you, Maria.”

“Sit down with us,” said Gia. Reluctantly, Erin pulled up a chair. “Maria is going to start looking for work soon, too.”

“I was just telling Gia and Bella about my fantasy job,” said Maria. “I'd love to be the hostess at a nightclub like Karma. Just circulating and talking to people, dancing and drinking all night.”

Erin nodded. “My fantasy job is at a club, too, but more behind the scenes, managing the business, booking DJs and bands. I worked three different jobs at Nero's and learned a lot on every
level. I was actually up for the job of managing the on-site club, but I got canned instead. The final stab in the back was when my boss said he'd never trust a woman to manage Midnight. He dangled the carrot, but hit me with the stick.”

“Bastardo!”
spit Maria.

“Yeah, major disappointment. But that's how the tortilla chip crumbles.”

Gia said, “I hate men who think they're better than us just because they grow hair on their asses. It's not fair. I bet if you and Maria teamed up, your club would kill Midnight, or Karma.”

The six bitches left Spicy together, bemoaning their bad situations, and moaning from refried-bean gas.

Bella said, “If only we had start-up capital and a location.”

Maria said, “I do have that wedding money.”

“How much?”

“Gia! That's rude.”

“Twelve grand,” said Maria. “Not enough to build a club from the ground up.”

“We don't have to. Come on.” Gia tugged the rhinestone leashes. The dogs heeled and kept apace while Gia clacked down the boardwalk.

“The bungalow's the other way. Where are you going?” asked Bella.

“I've got an idea.”

“‘Here lies Fredo Lupo,
a bitter disappointment to his long-suffering parents.'

“‘Here lies Fredo Lupo, nonvirgin. He got it in once in his whole freakin' life, and then he threw it away.'

“‘Here lies Fredo Lupo, skinny mama's boy who died alone. No girl. No friends. No car. No respect. No purpose in life.'

“‘Here lies Fredo …' Eh, that's enough,” said the man to himself, sitting up from his prostrate position on the rubber floor mat behind the bar at the shuttered Cowboy Club in Seaside Heights. It was ten o'clock on a Thursday night. He could hear the pounding house music and the sound of partying from Bamboo next door. Every beat and peal of laughter reminded him sadly of his own failure.

Fredo had been hiding out in his empty, dark club since he arrived back in Seaside. The bus ride was an agonizing journey into humiliation, regret, heartbreak, and nausea. If he could have vomited his soul into a plastic bag, he would have been grateful for the relief. How could he have yelled at Gia and Bella like that? He didn't deserve them. They were better off without him.

Self-pity had no friends. It had no family. Fredo had never felt less connected to himself or his roots. Mostly, he was ashamed of the way he'd behaved. What he'd said to Erin was unforgivable.
He'd hit her with unfair low blows. Regardless of what that bastard Violenti said, Fredo believed Erin let him into her bedroom with honest intentions. Maybe she was spying, at first. But, at some point, she switched allegiances. Otherwise, why would Violenti fire her? No way could Erin fake what happened in bed between them, and afterward, when they cuddled for hours. In the parking lot, he'd been bullied and manipulated. In the grip of terror and self-doubt, he'd believed Violenti's lies.

Like Karma, hindsight was a bitch. The three emotions he hated most—regret, shame, and guilt—raged in his heart. He was sick to death of feeling powerless and afraid.

Something had to change. “
I
have to change,” he said out loud. “I'm not who I want to be.”

He got off the floor and poured himself a stiff shot of amaretto. He'd been through half a bottle of it. He'd gone to AC to get cash to reinvest in the club. When it'd opened on Memorial Day a few months ago, his dad gave him until August 1 to make it work. It was now the third week in July. He had one week left to create a miracle. Too ashamed to go to his parents' house, Fredo would hide here. Come August, he'd have to face reality. For now, he'd drain the bar inventory by himself.

“Carpe diem,” he said, and shot the amaretto. “Or should I say,
crappy diem
?”

Putting the empty glass on the bar, he though he heard rhythmic knocking, as if the pounding beat from Bamboo were beating down the door of the Cowboy Club.

It persisted. To ease his mind, he went to the front door and opened it.

“There you are,” said Gia. “Way to ditch us at Nero's, you douche bag. Bella and I almost got mugged and raped and killed. Step out of the way. We're here to look the place over.”

The petite guidette bulldozed by him with two tiny dogs on rhinestone leashes. “Kookah and Pretzel, don't mess on the floor.”
To Fredo, she explained, “When they get excited, they pee and poo.”

“Who doesn't?” he muttered.

Bella came in behind Gia. “'Sup, Fredo? I'm not mad at you, even though you left us to rot in AC. But,
damn,
bro, you might want to look in a mirror. And brush your teeth.”

Following Bella, in walked … Maria Crumbi? As a brunette in slutwear with five-inch bondage heels? She looked like she'd been hit by Hurricane Gia.

“I'm back, Fredo,” she said. “Didn't think I'd set a stiletto in here again after my bachelorette party train wreck. But just goes to show: you never freakin' know.”

“True,” he said, amazed to see the three women—and two dogs? Where the hell did they come from?—in his club. Then he felt a chill, as if he'd been poked on the taint with a Popsicle.

Spinning around, Fredo couldn't believe his eyes. He rubbed them with his fists and made a
wiki-wiki
sound. In the club doorway stood Erin Gobraugh, a soft halo of pink around her red head from the neon lights next door.

“This is business, not personal,” she said, frosting him with her glare. “If you lay a pinkie on me, I'll rip your nads off.”

“Fair enough,” he said, and stepped back so she could come inside. His heart overflowed with amaretto sweetness at the sight of her. “How is this happening? How did you find me? Not that you were looking. What's going on?”

Gia said, “Don't think, Fredo. Life is better when you don't think.”

“I'm sorry for everything,” Fredo said to Erin. “I was a huge dick.”

She ignored his apology, but he felt a subtle change in the air temperature around her. She'd warmed two or three degrees. If he kept it up, maybe she'd let him pinkie her after all.

Gia said, “So, bitches, whaddaya think?”

“It's small,” said Erin. “Half the size of the clubs next door.”

Bella said, “No matter what we do to the place, we can't compete with Karma and Bamboo. They own the weekends, Thursday to Sunday. And the Inca owns Monday nights.”

Gia said, “So we open on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. The hump days. We can call it the Hump Club.”

Erin crinkled her adorable Irish nose. “Sounds like a stripper bar.”

Fredo had to interrupt. “You want to relaunch my club?”

“Shhh. The women are talking,” said Gia. “Go make yourself useful and mix drinks. Do you know how to make a Scooby Snack, like at Beachcomber?”

“Malibu rum, Midori, and milk, right?”

“Less talk, more pouring,” said Bella.

Fredo got to work and listened.

Maria twirled on the empty dance floor. “We can do a lot with a little. Remember the great lighting at my wedding?” She stopped spinning. “The wedding. It seemed like yesterday. We were happy then….”

“As a couple, maybe. But you weren't happy with yourself,” said Bella. “You were faking.”

“That's right,” said Maria. “Keep reminding me.”

“Drinks ready. Even if you give the place a makeover,” said Fredo, “my lease ends on August first. My father wants to turn it over to a warehousing company for twice the price. And there's no staff. To reopen, we need bartenders, waitresses, custodians, security.”

They considered his points while shooting Scooby Snacks. The situation was dismal, but Fredo felt nothing but joy. It was a tremendous lift to be surrounded by hotties (and doggies).
Women are a miracle,
he thought. Just being near them was like flipping the hope switch.

“I know some people,” said Gia.

Bella nodded. “Me, too.”

Fredo said, “You can't pay them with kisses. We need seed money.”

Maria said, “I've got it. And we'll have more after we sell the mechanical bull.”

“No way! We're keeping it. We'll hire a go-go dancer to grind it all night long,” said Gia.

“Who's going to be in charge?” asked Fredo.

Bella said, “Equal partners. Just like in AC.”

“Because that worked out so well.”

Gia said, “Just go with it, Fredo. We were a winning team for a while there. We can do it again.”

Erin piped in, “We need a name. And not the Hump Club.”

“The Horny?” suggested Bella.

“Rudey Tuesdays?” said Maria.

“Smush.” That was Gia. “Shoregasm!”

“Clever, but too sexy? We don't want the obscenity police breathing down our necks,” said Bella.

“It's true,” agreed Fredo. “You can be sexy, but not that sexy. Wait! I've got it. We'll name it after all of you.”

“The Squirrel Monkeys?” asked Gia.

Fredo said, “Venus.”

Maria said, “What? Penis?”

“Venus! Sexy and classy. I love it. Yay!” said Gia, jumping, clapping.

The dogs sensed her excitement and started running around in circles and barking so hard their front legs lifted off the ground. The fluffy one seemed to have a little seizure. And then …

“Oops,” said Gia. “I'll clean that up.”

Maria said, “That settles it. We hereby christen the club—with dog urine—
Venus
.”

Bella watched from the
open door of Venus as Will Lugano parked his Ducati on the curb outside. He double-checked the address and seemed confused. He would be. The sign outside still read
COWBOY CLUB.
Will got off his bike and came forward. Bella shuffled back into the dark doorway. She wasn't ready to talk to him yet.

She was happy to see him, though. Will looked okay. The cloud over his head was a little darker than usual. Hugging the wall, Bella stayed hidden. Will entered the club and walked right by her. She followed him as he made his way inside.

Earlier that day, Bella had Erin call Will, and even wrote her a speech to say. Erin delivered it perfectly while Bella listened in. “Hello, Will Lugano? My name is Erin Gobraugh. My partners and I are renovating a club in Seaside Heights, and we'd like to hire you to paint murals on the walls. It's a rush job. You'll have to come to Seaside immediately, and you'll have only three days to do the work. We open on Tuesday, four days away. The theme is Venus. Sex, love, life, beauty. We're thinking lots of nudes, maybe some tasteful orgy scenes. But nothing too graphic. No actual smushing. And friendly animals, too.”

Will asked, “Are the animals participating in the orgy?”

Bella had to hold her lips not to laugh.

Erin mouthed, “Is he serious?”

Will's deadpan tone didn't always signal a joke. Bella shook her head.

Erin said, “No animals in the orgy scenes. Just scattered around looking cute. Maybe watching?”

Bella nearly laughed out loud again at the idea of peeping cats and horses. Will asked, “How did you get my name and number?”

Erin said, “Google. I found your website. You are cheapestportraitartistinatlanticandoceancounties.com, right? And you did a wedding portrait of Maria and Stanley Crumbi.”

“Ah, the Seaside connection.” Then Will wavered. Bella suspected he was connecting the dots and didn't want to risk returning to Seaside in case he'd find her there. Bella gave Erin the signal to mention money.

“Let me tell you the fee.” Erin quoted a number. A life-changing number. Bella knew he had his principles. But he couldn't turn this down.

“I'll see you in an hour,” he said, and hung up.

Bella had been waiting for him to pull up since then. She'd been thinking nonstop about what had happened between them. A lot had been said. But a lot hadn't been said. He'd cut off their relationship out of fear of being hurt. Considering his family history, Bella understood that, for Will, being in love and being hurt were the same thing. She'd reacted the only way she knew how—lashing out in anger. But with a few days between Will's preemptive strike and now, Bella could see the underlying reasons for his actions. If he didn't love her, he wouldn't have dumped her. It sounded crazy, but it made sense. In the last few days, Bella couldn't deny her longing to see him, to touch him, to help him break out of his fears and create a new life for himself with her in it. His face wouldn't get out of her head. Simply, she missed him. She wasn't done with him. Besides that, Will really was the best man for the job.