Dancers & Other Short Stories, Page 2

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  I stopped the 'Cat at the edge of the dirt parking lot, making sure we could not get blocked in. We sat there for a minute eyeing the dilapidated building and deciding whether or not to stay. Dancers was not just any juke joint, it was a low rent dive in a really rough neighborhood. I wondered what kind of clientele frequented this place. I suspected, correctly, that they were of the highly unsavory variety.

 

  The concrete block building was old and decaying. Neon lights flashed and flickered from the dirty front windows. There were woods surrounding Dancer's on the back and both sides. They were thick and foreboding. No way in hell I would go back there. I was having second thoughts about the wisdom of coming here and was about to suggest that we leave, when Fiona opened the door and got out.

 

  "Come on, Snap. We ain't got time to just sit here looking."

 

  I got out and followed her, wondering what we were in for. Several girls, their features hidden by the shadows and flashing lights, hung around the entrance. They looked at us with suspicion as we crossed the parking lot.

 

  "They look like your kind of women, Snap," laughed Fiona.

 

  "Maybe if I were blind," I replied.

 

  "What's your name, big boy?" asked one of the girls as we passed.

 

  Fiona bristled and said, "It's none of your damned business. This is my man."

 

  The girl backed down and we walked inside to a small alcove where we both paid our two dollar cover fees. The grizzled looking character sitting behind the counter took our money and stamped our hands with a mark only visible under a black light. "Go on in," he growled.

 

  We parted the worn red curtains and went through the next door to the main club area. I swiveled my head and took in the long main bar, another small bar in the back, an empty stage where a band played on weekends, and a dance floor. Cheap tables and chairs filled the rest of the room. Somehow, it looked bigger inside. I guessed that thirty to forty people were there now.

 

  Fiona eyed several "cowboys" at the long bar and said, "I kinda like the looks of that bunch. I'll see you later."

  She walked toward the bar without going directly to the group of men. I watched as she began trolling. She added a little strut to her walk but not too much. Just enough to whet their appetites.

 

  I headed to the smaller bar and sat down on the end stool, nodding to the only other guy there. I pointed to the Coors handle and the bartender drew me a beer. I turned around, leaned back against the bar and took a sip of cold beer. I looked across the room and watched Fiona as she talked to a tall, lanky, rough looking guy. No need to keep checking on her, I thought. Let's see what I can find for myself.

 

  I began surveying the immediate area and noticed a few fairly attractive women sitting at tables around the edge of the dance floor. One, a young platinum blonde sitting with a couple of other women caught my attention. I doubted she was half my age and I suspected I was a little old for her. I kept looking.

 

  A slow song finished up and a handful of dancers left the floor, returning to their tables. I found myself focusing on the young blonde. After a few minutes, I caught her eye and a slight smile played across her lips. I looked away. For a couple of minutes, we played a game of eye tag. It was taking me a few minutes to work up enough nerve to approach her. Finally, she pushed back from the table and I saw her heading in my direction. Was it intentional that she flashed me as she stood up? Probably not, I thought. After all, she was wearing a very short skirt. She must be on her way to the restroom. I took a sip of beer and looked away.

  A second later I felt someone brush against my side and turned to see the young blonde standing beside me. Up close she looked like a raccoon. I had never in my life seen so much eye makeup, but still....

 

  "What's your name?" she asked playfully.

 

  "Snap McCracken," I replied.

 

  "Well Snap McCracken, I'm Lorene but my friends call my Honey Bear. Want to dance?"

 

  "I guess so," I said. How the hell could I say no?

 

  I slipped off the bar stool and we walked to the juke box in the corner. I scanned the box and found the song I was looking for. I dropped a quarter in the slot, pressed a couple of buttons, and waited.

  A heavy blues bass began to thump. I stood in one spot with my head down, swaying until I was mesmerized by the hypnotic groove of the bass guitar. The lead guitarist ran his metal slide up the neck and wavered over the high E. The most unsanitary sound in the world of music, but it pleased me.

 

  Honey Bear stood in the middle of the dance floor and began to shimmy slightly to the beat. She crooked her finger and motioned me forward. Filled with anticipation, I slow stepped my way toward the nubile nymph in the short black mini-dress.

 

  Koko Taylor's heavy, gravel filled, voice filled the room. "Let the juke joint jump, clap your hands, shake your rump..."

 

  True to my nickname I raised both hands and snapped my fingers loudly. I turned slightly to the left and clapped my hands. Another slight left turn and I shook my rump. Honey Bear mirrored my movements exactly except she slapped her rump at the end.

 

  How could I have hooked up with such a sexy woman, I wondered? My grandfather once told me that the sun would shine on every dog's ass one day. Well, I was feeling the sunshine tonight.

 

  I moved in and Honey Bear fell into my arms in a carefree embrace. I pushed off with my left foot and began a slow drag. We shifted back and forth for a moment then I twirled her around and dipped to the floor. We came up with her knee just inside mine. Electricity flowed between us when we touched. We moved forward, then back again. Honey Bear dropped to the floor striking a sensual but disinterested looking pose. I circled around her with an easy blues step much like an Indian doing a rain dance. I swooped in and lifted her to her feet, then circled behind her and wrapped my arm around her waist with my hand resting lightly on her belly. I could feel my nature rising.

 

  The music began to fade away and I released Honey Bear. As we started back to the bar, she said "I want to dance again. I'll pick the song."

 

  "Well, OK," I said. I accompanied her to the juke box and she selected a slow country song. Within seconds her arms were tight around my neck as we shifted back and forth in one spot. I could feel her breath on my cheek and then her lips as they touched my ear.

 

  "My mama sure does like you," she said softly.

 

  "Uh-huh," I replied before my mind processed what she had said. I recoiled. "What?" I asked. "What's that you say?"

 

  "My mama sure does like you. That's her sitting at my table. She wants to meet you."

 

  My guts roiled as I realized I had been taken. I glanced at the table and saw a small red faced head connected to an oversized body by a goozle that would make a Thanksgiving turkey proud. I stepped back, but continued the dance. My mind raced as I tried to figure a graceful way out of this dilemma. The rest of the dance was pure hell. I moved stiffly, like a robot.

 

  Finally, the dance ended and I stepped away from Honey Bear. "I've got to hit the head," I said, which was indeed a true fact. My bowels felt a little loose.

 

  "Ok, but don't take too long."

 

  She could feel my discomfort and agitation. I thanked her for the dance and walked toward a restroom sign. I didn't look back. I eyed the room to plan my escape route. As I approached the restroom area I joined a long line waiti
ng to get in.

 

  "What's taking so long?" I asked a man in front of me.

 

  "Ladies room is out of order. We're working with a one-holer tonight."

 

  That was OK with me. It gave me more time to formulate my plan. I scanned the bar area and saw Fiona perched on a bar stool, her head slightly down, with her hands clasped gently in her lap. A group of guys stood around listening to her. They appeared confused.

 

  I decided that I could get out of the restroom, back around the wall and disappear into the crowd. I could grab Fiona and we could bolt for the door. I glanced across the dance floor and saw Honey Bear and her mother. They both grinned and waved. I waved back half-heartedly.

 

  I felt a tap on my shoulder. I was hesitant to turn around. What if it were another trap? I felt the tap again. Slowly, I turned and found a young man, almost a boy really, in western attire. He didn't appear to be much of a threat.

 

  "What?" I asked.

 

  "You with that girl over there at the bar? I saw you two come in together." He motioned toward Fiona.

 

  "No. We just came here together. We're not a couple or anything like that," I replied.

 

  "I was just wondering if it was alright if I asked her out. Do you think she'd go out with me?"

 

  I looked the kid over - he was short, with long greasy black hair, long Elvis like sideburns and a Fu Manchu mustache. He held a cowboy hat at this side. I knew he was not her type, but said, "Sure. I don't see why not."

 

  The line seemed to be barely moving. I leaned out and looked ahead. A girl near the head of the line stepped in front of the guy waiting at the door and beat on it loudly. She yelled, "Come on out of there Bruce. What are you doing in there?"

 

  A large lumberjack looking guy opened the door, waved his hand in front of his nose, and said loudly, "Whew. I wouldn't go in there if I were you."

 

  A groan emitted from the line and it moved forward slowly.

  "Well, how do you understand what she's saying?"

 

  I turned and asked, "What?"

 

  "How do you understand what she's saying? Her being from France and all. None of us can understand a word of French."

 

  I glanced at the bar and realized that Fiona was in full-on game mode. No wonder the men around her seemed confused.

  "Well, I know a few words of French and she knows a little English. We manage to get by," I said. I knew for a fact that she knew no French but she could mimic anything pretty well.

  Fiona had a knack for the game. I could never tell if it was her clever gift for manipulation or if one of her dark personalities had surfaced that drove her game-on behavior. I laughed to myself as I thought of the winter night when the gas went out at her house. A repairman was called to resolve the problem. Fiona greeted him at the front door without so much as a word. Her hair looked as though it had not been combed in a week. She was dressed in mismatched sweats that were much too tight, especially in the nether regions. Her feet were graced by one red sock, one yellow one, and two mismatched bedroom slippers. She held a comedy-tragedy theatre mask mounted on a stick in front of her face as she followed the repairman around the house, peering over his shoulder as if inspecting his work. The man was obviously distracted and unnerved, but I assured him that everything was OK. There was nothing to be gained by manipulating this guy. I had to wonder if a another personality had been at work that night. When I mentioned this to her the next day, she acted as if she had no idea what I was talking about.

 

  The restroom line at the club moved slowly. A few moments passed and the young man asked, "What's a doctor doing in a place like this anyway?"

 

  For a moment, I questioned my wisdom and then fell into the game myself. "Well, she's not a real doctor. Not yet anyway. I'll bet you would like for her to examine you," I said.

 

  He grinned. We both looked in her direction.

 

  "You'd best get on over there and ask her out before one of those ugly dudes beat you to her," I said.

 

  "You might be right. Thanks for the advice."

 

  He dropped out of the line and headed toward the bar. I glanced over at Honey Bear's table. They were still there with those stupid looks on their faces. Man, I felt like an idiot.

 

  A few minutes later I emerged from the restroom, slipped into the crowd and worked my way across the room to the long bar. As I got closer I could hear Fiona rambling on in make-believe French. I wondered what she was saying. The men around her were grinning like a bunch of fools and nodding their heads. The young man was in the center of the crowd. As I approached the group, he stepped toward me and said, "Thanks man. She said yes. I'm going to take her home."

 

  I nodded, then turned my head toward Fiona and rolled my eyes. She stepped down from the stool and said quietly, "What do you want? I'm on a roll here."

 

  "We've got to get out of here. I've got a woman trying to pimp her mother off on me."

 

  She motioned toward the young man and said, "Eddie is going to take me home. You go ahead."

 

  "I'll follow you," I replied.

 

  "OK. We'll be out in a minute."

 

  I quickly headed toward the door. I stood in the shadows beside the 'Cat and waited, hoping against hope that Honey Bear and her mother had not seen me leave. A minute later, Fiona and Eddie emerged from the club and headed toward an old worn out pickup. She slid over close to him as they pulled from the parking lot. I gave them a minute and dropped in behind them. I was ready to get home. No more Dancers for me.