All she could think about was Mr. Reznick, their new neighbor. Mr. Reznick was the handsomest man Kendra had ever seen. Up close, anyway. There were some movie and TV stars she thought were handsome, but they weren’t… real. Not like Mr. Reznick, who lived right next door.
Lying on the couch with a funny old monster movie playing on TV, Kendra closed her eyes and saw him again. Thick and wavy brown hair, the kind of hair she would love to run her fingers through, and deep brown eyes she could dive into and swim around in like deep pools. Oh, he was like a dream. And his voice – deep and resonant and manly.
Kendra smiled as she lay there in the dark with the grey light of the television flickering over her.
She couldn’t wait to see him again.
As the men applauded and whooped and hollered, Anna Dunfy collected the clothes she’d shed over three dance numbers, then picked up all the money left for her by admiring customers, and walked backstage.
Dina Noos was getting ready to go on. There were a few other girls back there, too, either getting ready to dance or to waitress, or to go home.
“What’s it like out there?” Dina said. Her stage name was Desiree.
“Not bad,” Anna said. “I’ve seen better, but I’ve seen worse.” She put the money in her purse, locked her purse in her locker, then began to put her costume back on.
Her stage name was Kitten, and she was very popular at the Mt. Shasta Gentlemen’s Club. She had a lot of regulars who came just to see her. The money was better than any job she could get in town. The job market in Redding was in pretty bad shape – she could get plenty of work if she wanted to flip burgers or wait tables part-time, with no benefits, nothing. The only office work she could get was through the temp agency, which was less than part-time. Stripping barely took care of their needs and left nothing for her to save up for her dream – a down payment on a little house for her and Kendra. She could not see that ever happening.
With her costume on, Anna left the big communal dressing room and went out into the nightclub. Between sets, the girls waited tables. Some chose to wait tables topless while others kept their costumes on. Anna wasn’t comfortable walking around topless. Dancing naked on the stage was one thing, but just walking around from table to table with her tits exposed – she couldn’t do it. She knew it meant less in tips, but she couldn’t help it, it was out of her hands.
The bar was in the front of the club, the stage in the rear, and in between were tables, and against the wall some booths. There was a bar along each edge of the runway, too. The club was spacious, with a high ceiling. From outside, the building looked like a ski lodge, with an A-frame and tall windows. But the blackened windows were dark, and written in purple neon in one of them were the words LIVE NUDE GIRLS. It was located halfway between Redding and Mt. Shasta, out in the woods, of all places. But it did a booming business. It helped that it was the only strip club in the area. The next closest was all the way over in Chico.
Anna went behind the bar and got an order pad and pen. She found the manager in the kitchen behind the bar, where they made all the bar food. Paul Wagner was a little balding man with a belly and jowls who always wore a suit.
“Where do you want me, Paul?” she said.
“Take section four,” he said. “Delilah was supposed to take it, but she went home sick. So I’ve got Candy working two sections, and you can take section four.”
“Will do, boss,” she said, then she turned and left the kitchen, went out from the behind the bar, and headed for section four. That included all the customers seated at bars along the sides of the runway and tables to the left of the runway.
There was just another hour before closing time. Anna sighed and went to a table and took her first order.
Her third order came from a handsome man with dark hair seated at the runway. He ordered a scotch and soda, then said, “Could I have a word with you?”
“About what?” Anna said, smiling.
“What’s your name?”
“Kitten.”
“Well, Kitten, my friend and I, here, are photographers. We have some websites and I was wondering if you’d be willing to pose for some pictures for us.”
“Pictures, huh?”
“We’ll pay, of course. Think about it. Here’s my card.” He took his wallet from his back pocket, opened it, and removed a business card, which he scribbled on with a pen before handing it to her.
It read, BURNING LIZARD AMUSEMENTS, and below that was a phone number and a post office box number in Redding. Written on the back was his name and another phone number.
“My name is Steven Regent,” he said. “You are an exceptionally beautiful woman, Kitten. You stand out here, I’m serious. You’re also the finest dancer in the place.”
“Well, thank you, aren’t you sweet. I’ll get your drink for you.”
“You’ll think about it? I think we could work together very well. We pay well.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said, then she turned and headed for the bar.
Photographers. A website. It sounded dubious to Anna. But he said they would pay. And well. She slipped the card into the top of her right stocking. She’d keep it. Just in case.
Eight
Reznick rose slowly to the surface of his sleep like a bloated corpse bobbing to the surface of a still, deep lake. He opened his sticky eyes and squinted painfully at light, then closed them again. It was morning, he knew that much. But he wasn’t sure where he was.
Did I tie one on last night? he wondered.
He reached up and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, then opened them. He was lying on the couch in the living room wearing only his undershorts. The television was on. Cartoons. Rocky and Bullwinkle. He smacked his lips, but he tasted no liquor. Instead, he tasted bitter morning breath and the harsh remnant of NyQuil.
He’d made it through the night without having a drink, without driving down to Handi-Spot and buying a bottle. It had not been easy.
At first, he’d fallen asleep only to find himself in a dream of Victoria – a vivid dream from which he’d awakened suddenly with a ragged gasp, still smelling her perfume, his heart drumming against his ribs. He’d been in bed then. He’d tried to go back to sleep two more times, maybe three or four, but the same thing had happened again and again.
Around four in the morning, he’d come out to the living room and stretched out on the couch. He’d turned on the TV, tuned it to the Cartoon Network. Something that would shut his mind down and not require any thought. Pretty soon the cartoons had blurred, the colors had bled together, and he’d finally drifted off into a deep sleep.
He swung around and sat up on the edge of the couch, put his elbows on his knees, and scrubbed his face with both hands. He looked down and saw Conan curled up on the floor beside the couch. The dog lifted his head and looked at him, then stood and stretched. Reznick sat up straight and looked at the clock on the wall, focused. It was eight thirty-three. He could easily go back to sleep, but it was time to get up.
“Hey, buddy,” Reznick said, and Conan hopped up onto the couch beside him. He petted the dog, roughed him up a little. “Need to go outside, I bet.” Reznick stood and went to the door, opened it, opened the screen, and said, “Go ahead, boy.”
Conan dashed outside.
Reznick went to the kitchen and got the coffee maker started. By the time he was done with that, Conan was back inside. Reznick closed the screen door and locked it, then turned on the swamp cooler. He fed Conan, went into the bathroom and took a shower, and by the time he got out, the coffee was ready. He put on a pair of jeans, poured a cup of coffee, then took it outside, shirtless and barefoot. Conan followed him. It wasn’t even nine o’clock yet, and the thermometer on the wall beside his door read a hundred and four. There was no breeze – the morning was still. Country music played loudly from one of the trailers.