I kissed the soft cheek of Winston, which would much too soon be rough with whiskers. He said, “Great-grandma, do you have your car keys?”
He checked out everybody’s car. I gave him my key case and he promptly picked out my car key from among the others. Then he snapped it shut and said, “We don’t want your keys to get lost.”
I determined not to be the first to bring up the subject of Mark. No one mentioned him until we were eating. Then Albert said, “All right, you two. Tell me what’s happening with Mark. I’ve only heard bits and pieces.”
Sandra and I looked at each other. He was her boyfriend. She spoke, somewhat reluctantly. “Mark has moved out.”
Albert said, “The way I heard it, it sounds as if you kicked him out.”
Mark had called Albert yesterday from my apartment, but I hadn’t heard their conversation.
“We came to a mutual understanding.”
That was baloney. But I was only the grandmother and I wasn’t going to interfere.
“Let’s not run around the bush,” Albert said. “Tell me what you know about the charges against him.”
“Charges, not conviction,” I said, unable to hold my tongue.
I saw tears in the corners of Sandra’s blue eyes. But she remained silent. So I told Albert what I knew while the tears ran down Sandra’s cheeks.
When I finished, Albert said, “That is the worst harassment policy I’ve ever heard of. It could ruin his career and there doesn’t appear to be anything he can do about it. It sounds like a modern version of the Spanish Inquisition.” Albert taught history at the University of North Carolina.
“It’s his word against hers,” I said. “And I’ll give you one guess as to who will be believed. It’s even more unfair than that. Somebody tipped off a radical group on campus about Mark, and they staged a nasty protest in front of the building where he was lecturing.”
Albert turned to Sandra and said, “Honey, if Mark gets convicted, you’re still not going to know anything more than you know now. And we won’t ever know whether he received a fair trial. It’s a question of whether you trust Mark or not.”
Sandra’s tears now fell freely. She struggled to speak and finally said, “I don’t know what to do. Why would somebody accuse him falsely?”
“Do you want me to tell him to find somewhere else to stay?” I asked.
Sandra shook her head and barely uttered the word, “No.”
At least she was emotionally involved. I believed she loved him. That thought afforded me some relief. On the other hand, her mental state precluded her taking him back. But I had the motivation to do what I had been thinking about.
I volunteered to wash the dishes and hung around until Sandra was ready to leave, saying that she had some papers to grade. She taught English at a local high school. When I kissed her goodbye I said, “Don’t give up on Mark. He’s as torn up about this as you are. He needs you.”
She said, “Gogi, I can’t make a decision right now.”
“I understand. Maybe something will turn up.” I tried to appear more cheerful than I felt.
“Take care of your blue car,” Winston said to me as he left with Sandra.
I promised him I would. When they had driven into the woods and disappeared I walked back to the kitchen with Albert. I didn’t know of any way to edge into this topic, so I said, “I want to check something out that may have a bearing on this case, but I need your help.”
Albert was instantly on his guard. “If you need my help, it’s probably illegal, immoral or involves driving at night.”
“The latter,” I said, “and possibly one or both of the formers. Have you ever heard of a place called the Club Cavalier near the Crescent Heights campus?”
“No, and I’m wondering why you have.”
I told him about the girl in the Administration Building.
“What is her relationship to this case?” Albert asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “In fact, I don’t even know her name. But she does work-part time, since she’s a student-in the same area with Ms. Priscilla Estavez, head of the Sexual Misconduct Office.”
“That proves nothing, except that she isn’t very loyal to this Estavez person. Why would she be giving you information that might help Mark?”
“You’re asking good questions. It proves that when I trained you in analytical thinking, it took.”
Albert had to smile and he used a softer tone when he said, “I suppose what you want me to do is go to this bar and look for this Shooting Star, whatever or whoever it is.”
“It’s a club, not a bar. And the Shooting Star is a she.”
“How do you know that?”
“I called Club Cavalier and said I had a friend who wanted to see the Shooting Star. I was told that she would be performing Monday evening. And I want to go with you.”
“Mother, that’s not going to happen.”
Albert put on his most defiant attitude. He thrust his chin forward, just as he had when he had been a boy, questioning the authority of his parents. He had looked cute then. He still looked cute, even with an expanding waistline and thinning hair.
“Do you want Mark’s career to be over before it starts?” I asked.
“Bars are rowdy places where men get drunk, use bad language and behave in a disgusting manner. It’s been years since I’ve been to a strip joint. And you’d be as out of place there as a cat at a dog show.”
“Do you want Sandra and Mark to get back together again?”
We went back and forth like that for a while. Finally, I wore him down. He said, “If we don’t go and Mark’s hearing ends up badly, you’ll blame me. At least we’ll take my truck. That’s more macho than your old Mercedes.”
Chapter 6
Albert and I arrived at Club Cavalier about 7:30 p.m., after dark. A scattering of vehicles inhabited the parking lot in front of the building, leaving plenty of room for more. Well, it was a Monday evening. Albert’s pickup truck didn’t look out of place among the older cars and trucks, although I also saw a couple of late-model cars and a SUV. However, I didn’t see a vintage Mercedes, like mine.
One side of the building was painted with pictures of scantily clad women in alluring poses, but nothing you couldn’t see on TV or in women’s magazines. I wondered if places like this were having trouble keeping their clientele with all the other options available. I had heard stories about what was on the Internet.
Albert led the way inside and paid the cover charge for both of us. The overweight man who took the money glanced once at Albert and decided not to check his ID. He didn’t even look at me. We stood for a few seconds just inside the door, letting our eyes grow accustomed to the dim light.
Smoke from a dozen cigarettes curled lazily upward, creating a smog layer that stung my eyes and my nostrils. For many years now smokers had been banished to hidden corners where they furtively inhaled and I had forgotten how obnoxious the smoke could be. Loud noises that I guessed passed for modern rock music filled the room and a spotlight highlighted a girl who went through a series of contortions on a raised stage, involving a vertical pole rising from the stage to an overhead beam.
As my vision improved I saw that she wore nothing above the waist and only a G-string below. The G-string didn’t look much different from the thongs that girls today wear under their clothes and even in plain sight on the beach, except it was decorated with sequins. On her feet she wore the tallest heels I had ever seen.
Her ample breasts bounced in time to her movements, which were supposed to be erotic, but to me looked humorous. The platinum-blond color of her hair led me to believe that she wore a wig since only a few people, mostly from Scandinavia, have hair naturally that color. Even Sandra’s hair was a few shades darker.
Men sat at small tables near the semicircular stage, which had a brass rail around its edge. It would have been difficult for them to touch the dancer, had they an inclination to. However, customers reached out and placed bills on the stage from time to time.