“I’ll do the dishes,” Sandra volunteered, when we had finished eating.
“I’ll wash the pots and pans,” Lefty said, heaving his bulk out of his chair. “You can wipe.”
“But you’re a guest,” Sandra protested.
“I started out as a dishwasher. I’m a trained professional.”
Lefty rolled up his sleeves and put on an apron. I suspected what he wanted was to talk to Sandra alone, but he had earned the right. And he didn’t have an icicle’s chance in a furnace of convincing her to become a dancer.
Cherub came to me in the family room while Lefty and Sandra slaved away in the kitchen and Albert and Mark talked about Mark’s future. Cherub hadn’t volunteered for dish duty; she didn’t look like the domestic type.
I had wanted to ask her a question. I said, “Cherub, did you or any of the other girls ever give Elise marijuana?”
She looked startled and glanced over her shoulder at Lefty. The kitchen was three steps higher than the family room and separated from it by a wooden railing. Lefty and Sandra were making too much noise banging pots and pans to hear what she was saying.
Nevertheless, Cherub lowered her voice to a whisper and said, “Lefty don’t allow drugs at the Club. He gave us a hard time after he heard the Star might have got a joint from one of us. Anybody caught with anything could be fired. He likes to think he runs a clean establishment.”
“But…”
“But-and don’t tell him this or my ass will be grass-occasionally somebody might have a little pot. And I liked the Star better than I let on. Like Lefty said, she had class.”
“Thanks. I won’t pry any further.”
“I appreciate that. May I say something to you now?”
“Sure.”
“When I started out as an exotic dancer it was a lot of kicks, you know what I mean? But I’ve been doing it ten years now and I don’t want to end up as a 50-year-old dancer. Every year I stay in it I lose some self-esteem.”
“Why don’t you do something else?” I asked.
“Because I’m scared. And because I have no training for anything else.”
“But you have a lot of good experience you can use in any job,” I said, trying to see the bright side. “Look at all the people skills you’ve acquired. Controlling a roomful of unruly men, that takes a lot of skill. I’ll tell you what. I know a nonprofit organization that helps homeless people prepare to get back into the workforce. They help them find job leads, prepare resumes, practice interviewing-the whole works. You’re not homeless, but you are trying to change careers. I’ll put you in touch with them.”
“I appreciate that, Grandma-Lillian. You know, not everybody treats us like real people, like you do. Some folks treat us like scum. Thank you for your help. And thank you for inviting me here today.”
“You’re welcome. For my money you’re as good as anybody-and a whole lot better than people like Donna, or Eric Hoffman.” And I could go on and on with my list. But I won’t because at heart I’m an optimist. I really believe that the good people in the world outnumber the bad.