“We’re going to get something to eat, we’ll see you at Smithie’s after you close down the shop,” I told them.
“Later,” Heavy said.
As we walked away, we overheard Zip saying, “Loco, f**kin’ loco, what kind of women go drinking at a strip club?”
Daisy turned her head and smiled at me.
I smiled back.
* * * * *
“Oh my God,” I breathed after Lottie was done with her two song dance, “I want to be a stripper.”
Roxie giggled beside me. “That’s what everyone says.”
Lottie was gone, disappeared behind the stage. The crowd was wired, screaming for an encore. I was right with them on my feet shouting for her to come back.
She didn’t strip. I didn’t know what she did but it wasn’t stripping (though, she did dance around in fancy underwear and rip her bra off at the end).
The only way to describe it was a work of art.
We were sitting in the VIP section right up next to the stage.
When Daisy and I drove up in Daisy’s Mercedes, I thought we’d never get in. There was a velvet rope and a line clear around the building.
Daisy just walked up to the front of the line, said, “Hey Lenny,” to the huge black guy that was the bouncer and then swanned in like the place was named “Daisy’s” and not “Smithie’s”.
She went directly to a cordoned off area where Jet, Roxie, Indy, Ally, Tod and Stevie were all sitting.
Our asses no sooner hit the chairs when an older, heavyset black guy came trotting up to us.
“Smithie!” Daisy squealed with delight.
Smithie ignored her and pointed at me. “You!” he shouted even though he’d stopped not two feet away from me.
I went still and stared at him, mentally inventorying my purse for weapons. I’d so lost hold on my head crackin’ mamma jamma that the only things I could think of to use were my nail file or I could throw my panic button at him. Neither of these were likely to instil terror in his heart.
“Can I help you?” I asked, slowly standing again.
“You Law?” he shot back.
Oh shit.
I decided on silence.
“I want no trouble tonight. We’ve had our quota of bar brawls this year,” Smithie said to me.
“Smithie,” Jet put in placatingly.
Smithie’s angry gaze swung to Jet. “You were the cause of two of them,” he snapped.
“Was not!” Jet huffed. “Just one, the other one was a shooting.”
Smithie looked to the ceiling.
Jet looked at me. “No one got shot,” Jet assured me. “All the strippers jumped the shooter. It’s kinda funny if you –”
“It ain’t funny!” Smithie roared and everyone around us turned to stare.
“Smithie, Sugar, Law’s given up the street,” Daisy cut in.
“Yeah, right. Trouble follows you bitches around like the plague and more often than not, it traipses its tight ass and long legs in here. Not tonight. Got me?” Smithie declared.
“We’re just having a few drinks,” Ally said.
“See that you do.” He snapped his fingers and a waitress in a red, micro-mini and a black, skintight camisole with “Smithie’s” in red script across the front came tottering to our table on high heels.
Smithie’s eyes moved to me and he stared. I stared back.
Then he looked me up and down and asked, “You dance?”
“No!” Indy, Jet, Roxie, Tod, Ally and Stevie all said in unison.
“All right, all right. Shit,” Smithie put his hands up and then looked at me again. “Hear you’re Crowe’s woman.”
I nodded that, yes, I was Crowe’s woman.
At the thought, I grinned.
Smithie did not. “Shit. Those boys need to get their heads examined.”
Then he was gone.
“What can I get you to drink?” the waitress asked.
“I’ll take an appletini.” This was said from behind me and I turned to see Shirleen powering through to our table.
“Well, the night is complete!” Daisy hooted. “Shirleen, girl, good to see you.”
Shirleen, I was surprised to see, got hugs and cheek kisses from everyone while I ordered a cosmopolitan. Then again she was Darius’s aunt and Darius was Lee’s best friend so I guessed she was part of the tribe.
“Hey Law,” Shirleen said, eyes on me and sitting across from me.
“How’re things?” I asked.
“Goin’ well,” she replied, nodding then her eyes got intense. “Real well,” she repeated with meaning.
I smiled at her. She smiled back.
“You two know each other?” Daisy asked, looking between the two of us.
Everyone was staring.
“Law helped with a family problem,” Shirleen said.
Everyone seemed okay with that answer so I looked at Daisy and changed the subject quickly. “What did Smithie mean when he asked if I danced?”
Daisy nodded to the stage. “He meant stripped.”
My eyes went to the stage. The three women there were gorgeous, their perfect bodies oiled up and glistening, their ni**les covered with sparkling pasties. They knew how to move and they had tons of money sticking out of their g-strings to prove it.
Still.
“Um…” I said.
“The word is,” Tod informed me, “yikes.”
“Nothin’ wrong with strippin’,” Daisy said to Tod.
“Not for you but she’s a social worker,” Tod retorted. “Social workers don’t strip.”
Daisy turned fully to Tod and I felt her attitude hit our table like a bolt of lightening. “Why not?”
“Uh-oh, another white people fight and I don’t have my appletini yet,” Shirleen muttered.
I felt the tension in the air (hell, everyone felt the tension in the air) and to dispel it, I blurted, “I haven’t got my period yet.”
Everyone turned to me. My tactic worked, maybe too well.
Shirleen craned her head around, looking for our waitress. “Holy shit. This is heavy, I need my appletini.”
“How late are you?” Indy asked.
“I should have started today,” I told her.
“Not to worry,” Daisy said, cooling off her attitude when confronted with a girlfriend problem, “rule is, you don’t need to worry until at least a week.”
I shook my head. “I always start like clockwork late morning on the special day. I haven’t started yet,” I explained.