Page 91 of A Brother At My Back

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Zeb…

“Hey, bro,” I said kindly, with a nod to Zeke.

“You don’t have to stop up front, you know,” he said.

“Ah, nah, yeah, I know. I wanted to. Wanted to see how you were doing.” He gave a shrug and shook his head, mouth drawn and grim. I nodded and he moved the frayed rope aside.

“Since you’re here, you might want to get in there. It’s Francesca’s last dance.”

“Thanks, bro. I reckon I owe you a cold one some night.”

“Maybe after the weather warms up,” he said, but though it was meant to be humorous there was no humor in it. Delia being gone hit Zeke harder than anyone realized and it didn’t take a genius to realize that he had been as secretly infatuated with her as she had been with that Cooper bloke.

I wish I could have given Zeke the cold satisfaction of knowing what’d been done with Cooper but I wasn’t about to put any of my bros in the club in any danger of word getting to the cops around here, not over some guy I barely knew and his feelings for a girl I knew even less. That was just madness and would be me begging to be put out bad. I’d walked that path once, even if it had been for honorable intentions. I wouldn’t be trying it again.

I went into the club’s dimly-lit interior and Alan, Tiffany’s boss straightened up at the bar. He gave me a chin lift and I went over.

“A drink, on me. What will you have?”

“Gizza a beer,” I said to the bartender and he gave me a nod with a quizzical look.

“I’m going to assume that meant ‘give me’ somehow,” Alan said with a smile and I grinned.

“Ah, yeah, I do it without thinking, I reckon. Use things like that from back home.”

“I figured.”

“How’re things?” I asked.

“Could be better. From a business stand-point, not too bad, from the standpoint of being worried about my girls and the rest of my employees…” He trailed off and shook his head, bowing it and grabbing the back of his neck.

I made a decision. “If I told you ‘No worries, bro’, would you believe me?” I asked.

He eyed me skeptically for a second and then a spark of recognition ignited in his eyes and he nodded slowly. “The reputation of your club proceeds you when it comes to believing. Your jacket definitely buys you some trust in this matter.”

The bartender returned and set a bottle of beer on one of those paper coasters in front of me. I picked it up and took a swig.

“Francesca is about to perform her last dance; I saved you a seat by the stage,” Alan said and gestured out that way with one hand.

“Thanks,” I said and he led me over to a chair by a small round table just enough to hold my beer, an ashtray, and a pack of smokes if I had the latter. I wished I could fire up a blunt to mellow out some, but that would have to be later.

“Thank you for looking out for her,” he said and clapped me on the shoulder. I nodded and with a smile, he was gone.

I settled in and took another swig of my beer. It was one of them good ones, not the cheap kind to scull to get down so you didn’t have to taste it.

The dancer on the stage was just finishing up and the announcer came over the sound system.

“Alright, thank you, Candy! Let’s give Candy a round of applause.”

There was a smattering of clapping and an enthusiastic whistle and the music transitioned to some bass-heavy 80’s music.

“Please welcome to the stage for her last dance, everybody, it’s your very own queen of the night – let’s give it up for Francesca!”

The music blared heavier and that hard-hitting voice that made you want to rise out of your seat declared she had everything I needed and more. I felt my lips curve into an appreciative smile as Tiffany burst from the curtains, striding along the stage one foot in front of the other, hands on her hips like she owned the night.

She made it to the pole and went around once, putting her back to it, sliding down, her knees parted and gloved hands, those fancy black satin ones that went to her elbow, tracing a line between her breasts over her stomach, tantalizingly to the waistband of the barely there scrap of panties covering her sex.

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