Tiny Dancer (18 page)

I
stumbled back to Drake’s car nearly falling as I clasped the door handle.

“What’s wrong, Flannery? You saw him, didn’t you? You saw Daddy,” said Claudia so fearfully she was choking out the words.

“No, he isn’t here. Drake, get us out of here,” I said. “Take me home. I feel awful.”

“You smell like a bar, it’s no wo
nder,” said Drake. He drove us home in silence as if he knew something dreadful had happened. But neither he nor Claudia dared ask me why I cried for most of the way back to Bitterwood Park.

Drake only remarked, “You look as if you’ve
seen a ghost.”

Daddy had already sent his uniforms off to the cleaners in anticipation of returning full ti
me as a security guard. I watched him happily preparing for the mundane job he had nearly lost. But in light of what Claudia was suffering, Daddy’s humdrum life seemed a great relief. Surely even Vesta wouldn’t dream of holding his security job in disdain again as she had before the lay-offs. One could only hope.

I told no one I had spied my
mother at The Gentleman’s Pleasure, working as an exotic dancer. Daddy had finally gotten over Alice Curry and moved on. I would not spoil his current state of bliss by telling him Mama was living only forty-five minutes away engaged in a less-than-respectable profession.

He and Vesta assumed my silence was due to my rejection of their scheme to aid that scumbag Grooms in getting the Miller
’s property for a song. In truth, it was.

I didn’t
tell Claudia either although it was hard to hide things from her. She was nosy enough, but especially delving even after I had wanted to leave so quickly. I had been the one to drag her to the club against her better judgment. I was not as worried about Drake snitching on us, not with him still under my blackmail power.

I
could not hope to help Claudia lay to rest her worries about her father, although I hated seeing her so miserable, and especially since I felt Claudia could not put to rest the fear he cheated on Irene. The thought of returning to the club made me feel crazy. My mother might spot me poking around and recognize me. She might even believe that Daddy sent me to spy on her.

I
hated too that the glamorous dancer had so fascinated me, not at all the picture of domestic motherhood, no longer wearing her print cotton tops and homemade skirts. Daddy could never afford luxuries, especially sequined heels and fancy hair accessories. I could not help but wonder if Daddy’s dreary existence drove her to accept such a job.

I
closed my eyes, overwhelmed with longing. I longed for strange modest normalcy, the mundane existence other girls my age took for granted, if for no other reason than for the longing to know her again, to finally give her the chance to explain why she had really left me. I blamed myself. That feeling alone rose up as strong as the day Mama left. Most mothers who leave their husbands take the child along—I heard Daddy’s sister-in-law say that very thing when they were not aware I was listening through my slightly open bedroom window. Daddy’s family had spent many evenings out back chugging beer and talking about Mama, saying how Daddy had married down.

I was convinced
the aroma from the lingering smell of dime store perfume and cigarettes was still on the sweater I wore tonight. In spite of everything, I kept a silk blouse of my mother’s that she had accidentally left behind. The perfume had long left the fabric but I remembered curling up with the blouse at night and crying myself to sleep. Now I could not dunk my sweater into the sink water to soak fast enough.

I sat
up with the horrible reality finally hitting me—somehow I had to go back to the dance club. While I hoped beyond despair that my mother was not working as a stripper, I could not deny the dizzy craving to see her again, finally, even if from a distance.

Taking Claudia along to spy on her fath
er was my only alibi. I called Claudia right off, before I thought too long on it and backed out. When she answered, I said, “I know I told you that we should never go back to The Gentleman’s Pleasure, Claudia. I know this won’t make sense to you, but I’ve thought it over and I think we should go back. I want you to finally be at peace and this is the only way to rest assured that you have nothing to worry about.”

Of course,
I was not talking about Claudia but myself.

                                                                      * * * * *

Drake could not under any circumstances cancel another date n
ext weekend with Marcy. But I was relentless. He asked, “Why won’t tonight work?”

“I’ll call you back,”
I said.

I
talked it over with Claudia who said that her father had stayed out late Sundays too, working after hours both Friday, Saturday and, yes, even Sunday night the last few weeks. “Then it’s settled,” I said, relieved I would not have to twist Drake’s arm again. I called him right back.

He said, “I’m so intrigued by the thought of you two virgins poking around a strip club late at night, I’m a little turned on.”

“Shut up, Drake,” I said, hanging up.

I gave Vesta the excuse that I
was spending the night with Claudia who then cleared things with her mother asking if I could sleep over, telling me, “If your mother were to call mine for some reason, we’d both be in a mess.” To be sure, Claudia told Irene that the two of us were going to a late movie with friends. It was all over town West Side Story was being held over.

I asked Drake to pick me
up first.

I
knew Irene well enough to know she would be more at ease and less likely to check up on us if she trusted our driver. “Drake, it’s important you make a good impression on Mrs. Johnson.”

“The woman whose husband is cheating on her?”
he asked, pulling away from our drive.

“If you say that to Claudia, I’ll k
ill you with my bare hands,” I said, cuffing his ear.

“I believe you w
ould,” he said. “I thought Claudia was bossy. No wonder the two of you go at it.”

“Did she say we go at it?”
I asked, defensive.

Drake backed off the subject. “I’m just assuming. Don’t tell her I said that, please.”

I coached him on what to say to Irene. After all, he was the son of one of Dwight’s golfing buddies.

Irene was nearly hanging
out the door, welcoming me inside.

I
felt guilty over leaving her for the evening, and worse, lying to her. “Should we go?” I whispered to Claudia, but Irene overheard me and told me not to think of staying home.

I had brought along my
p.j.’s and some toiletries in an overnight bag. I ran my bag upstairs to Claudia’s room. Drake followed me through the front door her as reticent to meet Irene Johnson as he had been Vesta and Flynn when he picked me up. I believed it was because he was always sleeping with someone’s daughter so it caused him to hide from all parents.

I
stopped at the staircase to introduce him to Irene, saying, “This is Drake. He has his own car. He’s taking Claudia and me to the movies.”

“You girls know I would love to drop you by the picture show,” said Irene.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Johnson,” said Drake, quick to jump in. “I’m going to the movie tonight too, you know meeting friends. I’ll keep an eye on the girls. You may know my father, Wyatt Keller.”

“Of course. Your mother is Andrea. Yes, we see them at the club.”

“Are we ready?” asked Claudia, not hiding her anxiousness all too well.

“Claudia, isn’t he polite?” Irene gushed.

Drake extended his hand to Irene. His expression was as innocent as I hoped it would be. He was such an actor. But when he got us into the car, he was mad all over again. He drove us in the opposite direction of Raleigh.

“Where are we going?” asked Claudia. “Shouldn’t we head for the
highway?”

“I’ve got one more stop,” said Drake
, acting cagey.

I
gnoring him, I engaged Claudia in a plan for what we would do when we pulled up to the club. It would be foolish to park as close as we did the first time, staring at everyone who passed by. I told her, “If your father did show up, and I’m not saying I think he will, he wouldn’t expect to see us. Maybe we should linger along the sidewalk, our backs to the parking lot and keep an eye out for anyone who walks past.”

She
liked the idea. She had already decided that if she found him there she would walk up to him and confront him.

“That’s a bad idea,” said Drake.

“You’re only the chauffer,” I said. “We don’t need your opinions.”

“I don’t see how confronting Claudia’s dad out in front of a dance club will prove anything,” he said.

“Of course it would,” said Claudia.

“No, he’s right,”
I said, hating to admit it. I thought ahead to the consequences. “He could just say he was dropping in for drinks. Not a good place to be, but nothing like being caught with a stripper.”

“I didn’t think about that,” said Claudia
, acquiescing to our warnings. “But that means we’ll be here all night waiting for my father to leave with a dancer.”

“Drake, how long can you stay?”
I asked conspiratorially. To my relief, he had no place else to go.

“You two are the best entertainment in town,” he said, pulling into a neighborhood. He drove down the second street on the right. With no explanation, he honked his horn.

“Why are we here?” I asked.

“We
can’t go into the exotic club district without back up,” he said, taking charge in a way that unsettled me.

A large athletic looking youth lumbered out of the brick house. He flicked a cigarette into the street before climbing into the backseat next to Claudia.

“Drake, I told you we can’t involve anyone else,” I said, irritated with him.

“Who are you?” asked Claudia,
as staggered as I was Drake would do such a thing without consulting us.

“Ladies, this is Daryl. He’s my cous
in,” Drake announced as if we would be pleased.

“We don’t need another person involved,”
I said, now fully rattled. Claudia would be humiliated if too many people knew she was spying on a cheating father.

“If I’m driving, I’m making some of the decisions. We’re less conspicuous, for one thing,” said Drake. “We look like two couples out for some fun. And Daryl has a picture ID showing he’s over twenty-one. If we need someone to look around inside the club, he’s our eyes and ears. Besides, he’s too big to mess with.”

Daryl laughed. “I guess you’re with me,” he said, winking at Claudia who turned away and spent the rest of the ride staring apprehensively out her window.

* * * * *

We
arrived after dark, later than the night before, giving Claudia pause enough to say, “I don’t like the look of things. Not as crowded, I mean, look at the men staring at us already.”

“Drake, take a drive through the parking lot so Claudia can look for her daddy’s car,”
I said. But I was also worried that the dancers had already disappeared inside to prepare for their numbers.

The parking lot lights were not as bright as th
ey could have been. But I appointed myself as a look-out. “I do see a black Caddy,” I said. I directed Drake down the row of cars until he braked behind the Cadillac.

“That’s not his car,” said Claudia, relieved. “Daddy’s plate says NCHARGE. Plus he has a parking sticker on the front windshield for our house on Hilton Head.” She brought down her window and peered
out, satisfied it was not her daddy’s car.

“Your daddy has a place on Hilton Head?” asked Daryl, but he seemed like the kind of guy impressed with the least little thing.

“It’s not a big place. We go there Christmas and Easters,” said Claudia, still not willing to acknowledge Daryl.

Drake came around in his seat and said to Claudia, “Hilton Head? You realize you mess things up for him, you mess things up for you.”

“Please keep your opinions to yourself,” I said, growing increasingly impatient with his views. “Don’t you know how hard this is for Claudia?” I reached into the back seat holding my hand out to Claudia. “You still want to do this?” I asked.

She
clasped my hand and nodded, much to my relief.

A group of college students wearing university jerseys walked across the lot. They gathered on the walk out front not yet going inside.

“Claudia, if you want to hide among the college students, it would be a good cover,” I said, trying to sound encouraging. “I’ll walk with you.” I volunteered as casually as I could, trying not to show how anxious I was to station myself at the door where the dancers entered.

Drake pulled into a
remote parking space and killed the motor. “Let me walk her,” he said, insisting. “Daryl, you keep watch out for us, make sure no one’s causing us any trouble. Look out for Peaches while you’re at it.”

Before I
could talk him out of a maneuver that undermined my plans, he was stepping out of the car. He met Claudia, closing her door behind her a bit gallantly, as if he were her date. Then he held out his arm and she accepted it, giggling. Claudia followed Drake across the lot.

I
sat back trying to decide exactly what my strategy should be. I had ruined our first visit and Claudia’s chance for disproving that Mr. Johnson frequented this place. I wanted to be certain my scheme did not interfere with her aims or even hint at my deepest prayer—to discover I was wrong about my own mother.