The music on Dollhouse's sound system switched from RING MY BELL into BROWN SUGAR and the naked redhead on stage cupped her girlish breasts before a middle-aged man in a suit. The plaid-suited businessman was bald and overweight, but the $20 in his hand transformed him to Robert Redford, as he slipped the crisp bill underneath Tammi West’s g-string.
“Honey, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” The man licked his lips with anticipation of the best Times Square had to offer in the way of pleasure.
"I bet you say that to all girls." The teenager leaned forward to caress his cheek, wondering if he called his wife 'Honey'.
“I haven’t seen anyone as cute as you before.” Her admirer blushed a deep red and tapped the wallet inside his suit jacket.
"That’s because I wasn’t here before.” She played her newness as a “I could be much more friendly, if you sat with me.”
“If I sit with you, you have to buy me a drink, handsome.” The manager had given her three instructions of how to make money at the Dollhouse; get naked, get dancing, and get the customer to buy a lady drink.
"Sure, I’ll buy you a drink, sweet thing, but no bottle of champagne. I’m not sucker.” The man’s leer was identical to the grin of a dog ready to hump a wedding guest’s knee.
”I’ll be with you as soon as my shift is over.” Tammi executed a split and twisted her head, so that her startling new red hair spun from her shoulders. She had changed the color after hearing the other dancers speak about a gunman targeting brunettes in Brooklyn and Queens. None of the girls were taking any risks with the killer getting lost on a bridge into Manhattan and dyed their hair blonde, black, and red.
“What about now?” The man grabbed for her and Tammi pirouetted from his grasp with the joy of discovering that her being a sex toy was an act of liberation financed by $1s, $5s, $10s, and $20.
The Rolling Stones were replaced by Santana’s BLACK MAGIC WOMAN and Tammi climbed off the stage. At the bottom of the steps a statuesque black woman in a sequined dress eyed her from head to toe, "Thanks for warming 'em up, sweet thing."
"Just doing my job," Tammi harvested $60 from her g-string. She had already forgotten the foul whispers.
"You leave a little coin for the rest of us and everyone will be happy.” The older stripper gazelled onto the stage and spun around the fire pole.
Her gymnastics was ignored by the men clamoring to buy Tammi a drink. She was surprised by how fast a little flash of teenage flesh pathetically crumbled any straight man’s dignity. The businessman was no exception and she went over to him and said, “Honey will be right back as soon as I change back into my costume.”
”I don’t do private shows.
“What about for a hundred?” The bill was joined by another.
“We’ll talk about it later.” The other girls sold their time by the half-hour. $50 got a man a good short time. Tammi had refused every offer so far and scampered into the crowded dressing room where she wiped off the sweat of men’s hands with a soiled towel.
Her separation of bills by denomination was stalled by the other dancers’ argument about whether Fonzie was more a punk than LAVERNE AND SHIRLEY’s greaseball friends. A statuesque blonde in stained lingerie whistled at the cash in Tammi’s hand. "Damn, those cheap bastards love that young pussy."
“We were all young pussy once.” A haggard dancer sighed, spreading a smear of lipstick over bruised lips.
The veteran dancers assented the truth of that statement with a tired chorus of ‘yeahs’ and repaired their drawn faces with broad strokes of make-up, while Tammi posed before the mirror to taunt then with her youth. Her narcissistic elation evaporated with the opening of her locker door.
It was empty. Her leather jacket and dress were gone and she glared accusingly at the other dancers.
“Don’t look at us. We have one rule here.” The blonde sneered with amusement. “We don’t rip off each other. Customers, sure, but never us.”
”Then where my stuff?” The teenager dropped her arms to her side in defeat. None of the dancers said a thing. The hippie had said that New York was a tough town and now she knew how tough.
Yesterday she had eaten two slices of pizza for Thanksgiving dinner and worked a double-shift at the Dollhouse. No one had cared about her missing Turkey Day or being robbed of all her possession.
"Hurry up, you sluts.” The manager entered the dressing room slathered with sweat. “There’s customers holdin’ hands with a drink, when they cud be gropin’ you."
"Damnit, when you gonna learn to knock?" a buxom blonde cursed at Fatso Valera.
“Spare me the Snow White act. I’ve seen how many elves you’ve screwed, blewed, and tattooed. I only wanna check on how the new girl's copin' with the wonderful world of the Dollhouse." Fatso clapped his hands explosively. "The rest of you get your asses on stage."
The dancers decamped muttering insults, which the obese manager ignored in favor of staring at the teenager’s girlish body. Her ID said 18, but it had to be a fake not that he or the owners cared about an underage girl working at the Dollhouse. Their customers loved young things.
"How you doin’, honey?" Most new girls were uncomfortable with dancing naked before men old enough to be their fathers or grandfathers, but on her very first night the little redhead had knocked Josie Cane from the #1 spot and her vixen body had him licking his lips.
"Someone stole my things.” Tammi held a towel before her.
Fatso snatched it away.
"I prefer the girls naked." He was no gentleman and proud of it.
"Stay away from me.” Tammi threatened him an empty beer bottle, having found suspect # 1 in the theft of her things.
“Why you gotta act that way?” Fatso asked in a singsong voice. “I can make you a star.”
”I don’t need anything from you.” She was no stranger to the lust in men’s eyes.
“You’re wrong there. I can give you the best hours, best sets. A ‘whale’ comes in, You get you first shot. Then you can buy all the new clothes you want.” He wanted to feel her breasts and his hands rose
“Stay away.” Tammi swung the beer bottle at the Dollhouse manager’s head. He dodged it and chuckled, “I like the rough stuff.”
Tammi cursed herself for believing that her life in this city would be different from Kittery, then the dressing room door slammed open and the sweaty black dancer entered the dressing room and said to the manager, "Cut her a break."
"Gimme one good reason why I should.” Fatso hated anyone interrupting his breaking in the new girls.
“I’ll give you five.” The wild-haired stripper punched his sternum so hard that the fat man cringed like a turtle out of its shell. "The girl isn't doing anything she doesn't want to."
"No one forcin’ her to do nuthin’, Josie.” Fatso grunted trying to catch his breath. “How ‘bout a visit to the office, Sweet Pea? I’ll make it worth your while.”
“She said no once and no means no, so get the fuck out of here. This is the ladies’ dressing room. Not the men’s room.” The black woman fronted the manager, who stood his ground saying,
"Listen kid, Josie didn’t save you out of the kindness of her heart. Read your Girl Scout handbook. I bet they have a special chapter in the Girl Scout handbook about her type."
"Very funny, Fatso." The black stripper hated the manager, then again she hated all men.
"Yeah, I'm a real comedian about the other team." He had pushed the wrong button and the black woman dug her nails into the manager’s jowl. "It’s none of your business what I do in my spare time, is it?”
”None at all.” Blood trickled down his neck from the nail punctures.
”And you’re giving her back her clothes, right?”
”I didn’t take nothin’, so let me go or else you’re both fired.”
”Please let him go,” Tammi pleaded to her rescuer. Losing this job meant hitting Times Square naked and from what she had overheard, the other strip clubs were much worse than the Dollhouse.
”You’re a lucky man. No, you’re a lucky pig.” The black woman pushed him out the door.
"That's Mr. Pig to you. No get outside workin’ the squares or you're fired." Fatso shut the door and the two women laughed at having vanquished the manager with a little bluff and muscle.
“Fatso ain't as bad as most of the scumbags running these places.
”There are worse?”
”A lot worse.”
”I hope I don’t find out how much worse.” Tammi was uncomfortable with the other woman eyed her body and stepped away from the black stripper. "This Barbie Doll doesn’t play with other Barbie Dolls.”
“I was just looking.” She took a $5 from her g-string and stuck in Tammi’s underwear. “I can pay like everyone else, but we girls are working the same scam here. Not as a team, because everyone here is out for themselves, but that doesn’t mean you and I can’t be friends. Both of us looking out for each other. The name’s Josie. Josie Cane.”
“Friends?” The only lesbian in Kittery was her gym teacher. She like the boys at her high school had wanted to be more than a friend and Tammi crossed her arms over her breasts.
“You’re new in town and you can’t have many friends.” Josie brushed a thin layer of powder over her breasts, ignoring the new girl’s hesitation. She didn't have to sleep with every beautiful girl she met. Just most of them. The black languidly slipped into a filmy teddy. “But you have understand looking at a pretty girl doesn’t make me a criminal. At least in the Dollhouse.”
"If the old geezers can ogle me, I guess a woman can too." Tammi couldn't be too fussy about friends in Times Square.
”And what about the friends thing.”
”I could use a friend.” She had none in Kittery. "Just don’t try anything funny.”
"I'll only dream about it." The black woman put her hands together and lowered her head in a mock prayer. Tammi giggled girlishly and the black woman said, “I’m praying to the goddess of pussy for good luck. She takes care of us, if we take care of her. What’s your name?”
"Tammi West." The teenager offered her hand, despite Josie’s obvious preference for a hug. "Aren't any places run by women?"
"Girl, the Mafia and the police work hard to keep us women under their thumb, because otherwise we'd be free and free women making more money than men is against every rules in this macho society.”
Josie rummaged through a locker and threw the naked girl a pink baby doll nightie, a spandex jumpsuit, and a rabbit fur coat from a locker.
"Those should fit."
"What about the girl they belong to?" Tammi’s getting robbed didn’t no justify her stealing.
"Betty moved onto better things." A two-month bid at Rikers for soliciting a cop.
"She die in this?" Tammi grimaced at the acrid smell.
"No, she danced her ass off, which is as close to dying as you can get at the Dollhouse.” Josie handed the young girl a pair of spangled platform shoes. “Besides beggars can't be choosy, can they?"
"I don’t have to beg.” She held up her cash.
"You walk on these streets naked and you’ll discover how fast you’re begging for mercy from the perverts.”
"Is Times Square really that dangerous?" Tammi hung the clothing into her locker.
"You really are too sweet for words. The other night at the Lark Hotel Dr. Frankenstein's retarded brother decapitated two girls and sewed the heads the opposite bodies. That dangerous enough for you?"
"I'm staying at the Lark." Tammi had stuffed paper in her ears to block the screams last night.
"And the newspapers printed squat about the murders.” The NY Times, Daily News, and Post covered the struggle for freedom in Israel, the desperate war against Communism, rich white people committing charitable acts, and black on white crimes, but not a word about the murder of whores in Times Square. “Hell, last winter they had a movie on the Deuce called SNUFF about a sick motherfucker having sex with a girl and cutting her up dead. All the liberals squawked for a minute and no one mentioned how Hollywood constantly butchers women on the silver screen. You and me and the girls are on our own. And you best not forget that either."
"I’ve learned my lesson with men.” Tammi tugged the nightie over her head.
”At too tender an age.” Josie pegged her for younger than 18, perhaps criminally so. Not that it mattered, because Times Square cops were paid to look the other way in every direction. "Damn, pajama party girl, you’re gonna make a fortune tonight."
"Fame and fortune is why I came to the big city.” Tammi modeled the new outfit in a mirror and stashed her bill roll inside the skimpy undies.
"And let's forget about whatever comes our way."
"I saw Steppenwolf this summer." The Canadian rock group’s concert at the Hampton Beach Casino seemed a million years ago.
"I love dancing to MAGIC CARPET RIDE and that Peter Fonda in EASY RIDER is one sweet dude.” Josie escorted the young girl into the lounge, where Tammi teasingly stretched her lithe body. Men at the bar responded to the pubescent mirage by waving their money and Josie whispered, "You’re a star, rookie. Fame and fortune."
"And whatever comes my way." Tammi went over to the out-of-town businessman and sat on his lap. "Hi, Bill."
"The name's not Bill." The out-of-towner gulped with shock that the young girl had correctly guessed his name.
”Everyone can be Bill or any name you want at the Dollhouse. We’re good at keeping secrets.” Tammi tugged on his tie.
"Call me Jim.”
“Jim it is.”
“What about that drink. I am thirsty after dancing so hard." Tammi snapped her fingers and the bartender put two drinks on the bar. Her ginger ale champagne cost ‘Jim’ ten dollars. He would have gladly paid twenty.
Fatso Valetta observed the little girl toy with her customer, who was obviously proposing her for a private session and was refusing him like a snotty debutante, but she was a slut like every dancer in this place.
Two quaaludes in a drink would shed that prom queen act fast and Fatso smiled to himself thinking about her eyes lost in her head. His fantasy was disrupted by a scruffy young man entering the club and calling out, "Tammi."
He walked right up to her and Tammi stared at the leather-jacketed man with the spiky hair without placing the face.
“Do I know you?”
“It’s me, Sean." He sat next to her, trying to recall her hair color from the other night.
"The car thief himself?" Tammi brushed away the businessman’s straying hand from her bare thigh. “Give me a few seconds.”
“This isn’t right.” The businessman protested with a frown. “I paid good money for these drinks and I expect____”
“I know what you expect, Jim, but I’ll be right back to fulfill your expectations, promise.” She feathered his ear with her fingertips, then walked Sean to another table. As they sat, Tammi smiled with an eerie innocence for a girl in a strip club and said, "Looks like the old hippie went to the commune in the sky.”
"I got run over by a lawn mower.” The stage lights painted the runaway’s face a lurid red to match her hair. She seemed even younger than the other night. “Cinderella went through changes too."
“New places, new looks.” His unexpected appearance at the club was surprisingly pleasing and she glanced over his shoulder. "You have any money?”
“Sure.” More than $800 from his savings and stealing the Olds.
“If you talk with the girls in this bar, you have to buy them a drink. And drinks aren’t cheap either." It was nice seeing Sean, but work was work.
Having frequented Boston’s Combat Zone, Sean was familiar with the workings of a strip club and slapped a twenty on the bar. "I can cover the drinks, but I have a proposition."
"Propositions seem to be tonight’s special on the menu." Tammi signaled the bartender for drinks.
"This is probably different anything else you heard in here." Sex was only thing on these men's minds.
"How so?" Tammi realized that his girlfriend must have ditched out on him, otherwise he wouldn't be here.
"I’m offering you a gig with a rock and roll band." It sounded ridiculous to his ears.
"A rock and roll band?" The teenager laughed with a weariness older than her years. “Doing Eagles’ covers? That’s a good come-on, but I’m not a country bumpkin anymore."
"This isn’t a come-on.” He ordered a Heineken from the bartender and was charged $15 for the two drinks.
At least the beer was cold, but he was glad to be here for more than Tammi’s nakedness. She was someone he knew. Maybe for only a few hours, but he didn’t feel so alone in this city sitting next to her.
"How so?" Tammi was also happy to see the hippie, even if he wasn’t a hippie anymore. She hadn’t expected him to visit her., which was a nice surprise for a not so nice place, then realized that his girlfriend must have ditched out on him, otherwise he wouldn't be here.
“I’m want you to join me in rock and roll band." It sounded ridiculous to his ears.
"A rock and roll band?" The teenager laughed with a weariness older than her years. “That’s the best come-on I've heard tonight, but I’m not a country bumpkin anymore."
"This isn’t a come-on.” He ordered a Heineken from the bartender, who charged $15 for the two drinks. At least the beer was cold, but he was glad to be here for more than Tammi’s nakedness. She was someone he knew. Maybe for only a few hours, but he didn’t feel so alone in this city sitting next to her and quickly explained, “Two nights ago I met these musicians at a bar called CBGBs. They play punk music there. They're forming a band and the guitarist wants me to play bass, but we need a singer and I remembered you singing in the car and told the rest of the band you were the next Janis Joplin."
"You're joking, aren't you?" “Not at all.” He took a sip of beer and leaned back in his chair.
"Me a singer?" She loved ME AND BOBBY MCGEE, especially the part about the Mercedes Benz. “Oh, lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes-Benz, my friends all ride horses and must make a mint.”
"That's the offer and you don't have to quit your night job."
"Don't I have to audition?"
"Yes, but I'm sure you'll get the gig."
“You really are serious?”
“As a grave, but if you're not into it, I won't bother you anymore."
"What makes you think you're bothering me?"
"Just your boyfriend by the door is staring like I stole his lunch money."
Tammi’s face twisted with disgust.
"You must have a low opinion of Cinderella, if you think I’d settle for Prince Uncharming."
"It’s not like the Dollhouse is a palace.”
“Closer to a brothel.” Tammi had few illusions about her place of employment.
“At least I'm no toad."
"We can’t be sure, until I kissed you." Tammi smiled invitingly and Sean leaned forward. Their lips meeting set them adrift in their own little world. He bought his hand onto her thigh. Her skin tingled and she flattened his palm to her flesh, wishing he would move her hand higher.
”Hey, hey, hey.” The manager had waddled to the bar with two thick-necked bouncers. “This creep givin’ you a problem?"
“Calm down, Fatso. He’s a friend.” Tammi wasn’t scared of this man.
"Friend?” Each stripper had two or three boyfriends hidden in the woodwork. They were all trouble.
”From up north.” Johnny was the only person whom he knew longer in New York.
“More like an old boyfriend and the Dollhouse hates more than old boyfriends.” The blackjack in his pocket cured most of their heroic urges to save their high school sweethearts from the high life and Fatso clicked his fingers. “Thanks for visitin’, but now get lost.”
The two bouncers grabbed Sean’s arms and slammed him into several tables on the way to the door. He hit the sidewalk on his knees, tearing a hole in his jeans. Sean didn’t learn his lessons the hard way so easy and jumped to his feet, planning to take on the biggest bouncer with a chair. The driver prevented him from rushing inside the club. "You have a problem?"
"I saw the girl and she’s okay with joining the band.” Sean tried to push away the driver. “The fat-fuck manager won't let her leave."
The driver stood his ground.
"Let me handle this.”
"I can take care of it myself." Sean visualized chairing the bouncer and head-butting the second. This premonition of violence pulsated in his temples and his eyes thickened with blood. The driver blocked him from getting to the door.
"This establishment and the other joints in Times Square are controlled by Harry the Horse. His mob pays off the police. You go into that bar again, the odds are that you come out in smaller pieces."
"This is my business." Sean settled his own problems despite a less than 50% success ratio.
"You’re a musician. You need your hands." The chauffeur’s tone suggested his job description encompassed other duties than driving a car. “I’m just going to talk with them. This is a big city. We talk, otherwise we'd be killing assholes all day long and that’s gets boring after a while.”
"I want Tammi to come with us." Even more so after that second kiss.
"Yeah, everyone wants a girl in this neighborhood. I’ll be right out."
Bobby walked to the Dollhouse and the two bouncers barred his entrance. He spoke with them for several seconds and they waved him inside the club. A minute passed quickly as did three.
After five minutes Sean’s visions of the fat man pawing Tammi grew more explicit and he headed for the front door only to have the driver exited from the club. He shook the bouncers’ hands and walked to Sean.
"Your girl gets off at 12. That's an hour from now. She'll meet you at the pinball parlor in between Broadway and 7th Avenue. Under no circumstance go into that bar, unless you’re looking to visit Bellevue in a bodybag."
"They that pissed?”
“To say the least.” The driver was cool, calm, and collected. He opened the back of the Lincoln and got out Sean’s bass. "I'll explain to Charles and your friend that you're waiting for the girl and will see them tomorrow. I'll also say if she can sing as sexy as she dances, she's a winner."
"You think so?” His hands were trembling from the adrenaline release.
"She's a little skinny for my tastes and jail-bait young.” Bobby had witnessed the Dollhouse audience’s undivided devotion. “If she can sing, you might have a shot.”
"She can sing alright. I'm sorry about losing it before." Sean had misjudged the driver. "You’re from out-of-town. What do you know? Nothing?” Bobby considered him a complete hick and the driver wasn't far from the truth.
"Next to nothing now.” Sean was embarrassed by his ignorance and vowed to learn fast.
“The name's Bobby, right?" He was grateful for the help.
"And you're Sean. Let me move the car before a cop busts my balls."
The Lincoln sped downtown and Sean studied the sign GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS. The Beatles had performed at the Star Club in Hamburg’s redlight district. Times Square was New York’s Reeperbahn and He had heard bootleg tapes of The Fab Four's early days that were as raw as tonight’s rehearsal.
GTH might be the worst band in the world, yet as long as Tammi was in the band, he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world than where he was right now, for New York was giving him a new life and he wasn’t fool enough or smart enough to turn down its offer.
No comments:
Post a Comment