Page 10 of Whirlwind

Standing at the center of the long bar wedged in the crowd of men and a few couples, I downed my dirty martini. This would be a night I would never remember.

My eyes scanned the dancers onstage and the ones meandering through the crowded tables. I knew one of the dancers who worked here. Sissy and my good friend, Wes, fooled around off and on. Sissy would come into my mother’s coffee house in town, the Meager Grand, on an almost daily basis and order her vanilla soy iced coffee, and I’d make it for her. She’d invited me to come to the Tingle numerous times. “It isn’t a boys only club anymore,” she’d say.“Women come too, and not just for ladies night.”I’d only ever nodded and smiled at her.

When I’d spoken earlier with Wes about going out tonight, he’d said he’d be coming here with a friend. I’d invited myself along, and he’d laughed.

“Now you’re going to pop your Tingle cherry?”

“Why not?”

“It can get crazy in there on a Saturday night between the businessmen, the bikers from all over, the cowboys. You up for it?”

“Totally up for it.”

“Crazy ass.”

Yep, crazy was exactly what I wanted tonight. Unusual, memorable. Because tomorrow...

The dream I’d had last night had shaken me. I hadn’t had one of those in a long, long time. I woke up smelling the smoke, struggling to breathe, spooked at how vivid his voice had been. All those old horrible feelings overwhelmed me, saturated my senses, just as fresh and raw as that night. Ten years ago, tomorrow.

This morning I’d tried to scrub the images from my brain, purge those feelings from my body with a long, hard run, a very hot shower, but it didn’t work. Nothing ever worked.

Tonight I wanted to revel, wanted to feel alive. Be reckless. Yeah, be bad. I drained my martini.

My phone vibrated with a message. It wasn’t Wes, it was Flint, the guitarist from a rock band, The Lunatics, I had taken photographs of at a show in Rapid almost a year ago. We had hung out after the show and partied. Flint and I ended up kissing and feeling each other up, but I’d rejected his offer of sex.

I guess Flint hadn’t gotten over the shock of my having said no to him. He sexted me once in a while. They were usually entertaining messages. I read this one.

“Dreaming of your luscious body in my hands

U screaming my name while I lick u.

Wanna lick u lick u lick u.”

Ah, pure poetry.

Flint had offered me a job months ago—to come with his band on a tour they’d managed to book in small venues in northern California up through Oregon. They were using my photos of them on their promo leaflets. It was perfect—my first band on tour experience.

I didn’t care that I wouldn’t get paid or that I’d be in no frills camping conditions with five men and a couple of their girlfriends. But I’d turned it down because the timing was bad. I was helping my father get his dream project off the ground. I’d committed to it from the beginning, and it was important to the family, to Dad. And to me. I needed to help him do it.

Along with an architect, my sister had worked hard on the initial designs we’d all brainstormed together, and Dad and I and Ladd worked on the logistics, promotion, and all the contractual and financial fine lines. Me working for Dad’s company wouldn’t be forever, just a little while more, until the land auction, which was right around the corner, where we’d acquire the property we needed, then the whole project would take off. And so would I.

My phone vibrated again. Flint sent a photo. I clicked on it.Hell no.It was him fisting his stiff dick while he stuck out his tongue. A fitting visual accompaniment for his lyrical brilliance. I was the yet unconquered kingdom and he was blitzkrieging me. I typed.

“Listen up good, Flint & Flint’s Dick.

I will block you permanently if you keep slamming me with this shit. No joke.”

Flint typed back:

“Don’t block me Violet! SORRYYY!! I’m fucked up

- just got offstage and thinking of U”

“Don’t think about me.”

Putting my phone down, I gestured at the bartender with my empty glass. Wes and I had decided to meet here because he’d be coming in late from a job in Rapid on his bike and he said his friend would be on his bike as well. I was so excited that I’d arrived here a little early. So excited that I didn’t want to wait for them. I strode right into the strip club on my own.

I’d dressed up for the occasion. Loose waves in my long dark blonde hair. A cropped, low-cut, indigo blouse over a slim, black mini skirt and a low slung belt with leather stiletto boots, lots of bracelets, long earrings. Dramatic eyes and glossy nude lips.

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