“You’re not a soldier.”
That statement hung over us in the quiet room. Johnny was a musician. A great guitarist and he even wrote his own music. He wasn’t any more military material than I was. Johnny turned his head and stared out the window.
“I can’t let you travel alone either, Georgia. A lot can happen to a pretty chick like you.” He snuffed his cigarette out on the warped hardwood floor. “I’m going with you.”
“Really?” I launched myself at Johnny, knocking him backwards onto the bed. Venturing out into the world didn’t seem so intimidating with a companion to do it with me. We kissed and held onto each other.
“You’ll be a draft dodger.”
“Yeah and you’ll be excommunicated from the church.”
“Don’t hurt yourself using big words like that.” I laughed as he pretend tackled me.
The room was getting brighter and Johnny needed to get back to his house before his parents woke up. He preferred to leave without a scene. Brett and Ruth were already gone. We left through the same broken window we had used to gain entrance and walked down the overgrown driveway. Johnny’s dirt bike was on its side in some bushes at the end. I hopped on behind him and he sped back to town. Traffic was light and we made it to his house in time. I stayed outside while he climbed in through his bedroom window to pack a bag and grabbed his guitar.
We walked the two miles to the bus station. Sometimes Johnny held my hand, other times we were lost in our own thoughts. I half expected the entire Taylorsville police department and the high school principal to be waiting for us when we turned the corner to the station. My dad would be there too with the Elders from our church and I’d be hauled off, never to be seen again.
Nothing like that happened. No one was there for us and only a handful of people were waiting for the next bus. We bought tickets for the earliest departure headed for Las Vegas.
Johnny listened as I chattered on about how exciting this was and that Las Vegas was going to be our land of opportunity. I could already feel the restraints of living in a small town and under my parent’s strict guidance loosening. The moment the bus left Taylorsville and with each passing mile marker, I began to really breathe.
Chapter Nineteen
The next few weeks were awful. Johnny and I fought constantly; we ran out of money and were hungry all the time. Las Vegas was not a land of opportunity, but a city full of shattered and desperate people. We included ourselves in that population. At 3 a.m., in a run-down diner on the low end of the strip, Johnny and I parted ways.
He sipped on a Coke and smoked the last cigarette in our pack. “I’m going back home.”
I wasn’t surprised and had seen it coming. We were kids trying to act like adults in a fucked up world. Our plan was destined to fail, but the acceptance of the failure and Johnny’s rejection still stung. I nodded and lowered my eyes, focusing on my hands which were wrapped around a mug of coffee.
“When will you leave?”
“My bus leaves in a little over an hour. I called my mom and she paid for a ticket.”
“What about the draft?” I asked, glancing up at him.
“If that’s my fate, so be it.” He looked past me, not able to make eye contact. The bulb in the light above our table was on its way out and it flickered, casting shadows on his face. “Why don’t you come back with me?”
“I can’t go back. I’ll figure things out.”
He nodded, put a dollar on the table, finished his soda and stood up. I got up too and stood awkwardly in front of him. “So this is it, huh?” I asked.
Johnny finally made eye contact and I took a mental picture of his face and forlorn expression. Even his eyes seemed to be a stormy blue. It was like he already knew he’d be heading to war, but he was choosing that instead of staying.
“Come here, babe.” He pulled me into his arms and I held onto him tight knowing this would probably be the last time we saw each other. Johnny kissed my cheek before we separated. “Well, I’ll see ya,” he said and was gone. I watched him through the grease smeared window as he climbed into a waiting cab.
Never had I been so tired. I must have aged ten years in the past three weeks. I stared at my reflection in the window to see if I had in fact grown older, but my face was the same.
The waitress came by and topped off my coffee. We chose this diner because refills were free. I wondered if they’d let me stay the rest of the night or if at some point the service would stop. I really wanted to curl up in the booth and sleep. I opened my wallet and counted the cash. Twenty-two bucks, enough for a couple nights in a cheap motel. Emily’s donation would help after all. I needed to get a job, but being a minor proved to be a challenge. A minor with no identification and no parental approval made it even more challenging. But, this was Vegas and if there was ever an employer who was willing to cut corners, I’d bet that employer was in this city. I just had to find him…or her.
“Excuse me?” I flagged the waitress down as she walked past.
“Yeah, hon? Ya need more coffee?”
“No. I need a job. Are you hiring?”
“I’m not,” she said with a wink, “but the boss might be. He’ll be in around nine. His name’s Hank.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Bolstered by this glimmer of hope I placed a tip on the table, more than I could really afford, and left to go find a motel.
After sleeping for a few hours, I showered, put on the least wrinkled sundress I owned and went to see Hank. He looked me over a few times too many before telling me he wasn’t hiring, but his brother, a manager at the Mustang Club, always needed new people. I had to be there by four in the afternoon, which gave me more time to sleep. At least sleeping made me forget about my empty stomach.
The Mustang Club was several miles away so I took a cab. With each dollar I spent, my desperation grew tenfold. By the time I stood in front of the most ornate and golden doors I had ever seen, if Hank’s brother wanted me to kill people for money, I would do it. I raised my arm and knocked on the locked doors. A very large and hairy man opened one side and glared down at me.
“We’re closed.”
“I know, but Hank Flaherty told me to come down here and talk to Gary?”
The man moved aside and allowed me to enter. After being out in the glaring sun, it took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting and once they adjusted, I took in my new surroundings. The drapes and seats were upholstered in red plush velvet lined with gold fringe. Gold chandeliers hung from the ceilings. To the left, a dark wood bar wound its way in an “S” curve the length of the room. Bar stools in the same red velvet lined the bar, which ended right before a stage. The stage boasted a brass pole, directly in the center. My eyes widened with recognition. Three weeks in Vegas had been enough to teach me about strip clubs.
“Gary!” The guy yelled to a man sitting at the bar eating a hamburger. “This chick’s here to see ya – says Hank sent her.”
It was too late for me to run and where did I have to run to? My stomach growled when I caught a whiff of the grilled meat.
“Send her down,” Gary yelled back.
I clutched my handbag close and walked toward Gary. He watched as I approached and part of me wanted to hunch over and act invisible, while the survivalist in me ordered me to stand tall and walk proud. I listened to the survivalist, threw my shoulders back, stuck out my chest and exaggerated the sway of my hips.
Gary stood up when I reached him. He wasn’t very tall and wore a gray suit. With his long, bushy sideburn and pencil-thin moustache, I got the impression he was trying to impersonate a Beatle only he didn’t pull it off. He had a big gap between his front teeth and I couldn’t help but stare at it when he smiled at me.
“I’m Gary and you are?”
“Georgia Jessup.”
“Please have a seat, Georgia. Mmmm I like your name…lots of possibilities.” He stroked his moustache and gave my breasts a once over. “Are you from there?”
> “No, Salt Lake.”
“My brother sent you…ya need a job?”
I nodded and stared at his teeth. A bad overbite drew even more attention to the imperfection.
“You ever dance before…professionally?”
I cleared my throat, “No.”
“You are eighteen?”
“Yes,” I lied, “nineteen, actually.”
Gary asked me to go up on the stage, which I did. He then asked me to show him some moves. I walked to the pole, willing myself forward and grabbed onto the metal. It was cold, hard and unforgiving. It appeared so shiny from a distance, but up close the brass was smudged with greasy fingerprints. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and moved my body slowly as I exhaled. I pictured myself at the Senior Prom with Johnny’s arms wrapped around me. My hips moved to the beat in my head and I stopped holding back.
Using my long blonde hair as a prop, it twirled with me and I imagined myself in a cocoon of spun gold. I’d emerge a butterfly and would no longer be Georgia Jessup, family disgrace at age seventeen.
Chapter Twenty
Gary hired me on the spot. He didn’t mind that I didn’t have any identification.
“Everyone is running from something Peach, I don’t ask any questions. You dance for tips and keep half.”
“Peach?”
“Yeah, your stage name will be Georgia Peach. The regulars are gonna love you.” He slapped my ass and walked around behind the bar. “Be back here by nine. You’ll meet the other girls then.”
“What do I wear?”
“Don’t worry about it. Just be here at nine and we’ll fix you up real nice.”
I stepped out into the late day sun and walked down the street towards the strip. I didn’t have enough money to take a cab back to my motel so I decided to stay close to the club for the next few hours. I was grateful to have gotten a job and could now afford to eat, except I was too nervous to think about food at that moment. What had I gotten myself into? My audition was as awkward as when I first learned how to ride a bike. Either I impressed Gary with skills I didn’t know I possessed or he hired every desperate girl that crossed his path. I may have been convincing to Gary, but was more concerned about the girls and especially the customers, would my performance be worthy of any tips?
***
Tips were not a problem. By the time the other girls had put me in a pair of fuchsia hot pants, go-go boots and teased my hair to high heaven, I looked every bit of a stripper as the rest. Gary neglected to tell me that I had to dance topless. After the first ten dollars was stuffed in my waistband, I stopped worrying about being exposed.
“Georgia Peach, I love your peaches!” An enthusiastic patron yelled. He held a $5 bill in his outstretched hand.
“They love you right back, sir!” I hollered when I retrieved the cash. He hooted and melted back into the crowd surrounding the stage.
It was hot under the lights and my feet hurt from the boots, but I made money. The exhaustion at the end of the night was close to exhilarating.
“Not bad, Peach,” Gary said and handed me my half of the take. I counted it out and my jaw dropped.
“Fifty dollars? Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. You earned every penny. I knew the regs would love you. You have that fresh appeal. Ya know…never been touched.”
I blushed at his intonation. “Well, this peach isn’t as fresh off the tree as you think,” I said and walked to the dressing room. Gary chuckled in the background.
The other five dancers were getting changed into their street clothes. Star, real name Suzy, had scrubbed the heavy make-up off her face and looked her age again. I thought I’d be the youngest dancer at The Mustang Club. Suzy had me beat by a year. Age was all relative in Vegas.
Darla, nicknamed the Veteran by other girls because at twenty-six she was the oldest stripper in the group and had been at the club the longest, smiled at me.
“Made some money tonight, huh?”
“I did.”
“I could tell from the glow on your cheeks. So you’ll be back again tomorrow night?”
“Yes.”
“Good. See you then, hon.” She smiled again and left.
I quickly peeled off the hot pants, changing into my sundress. I had to wash my face twice and attempted to comb out my hair, but it was shellacked with hairspray. This made me think of my mom and how she always tried to keep her girls natural. She didn’t want us to play up our assets for fear that it would draw attention from unwanted suitors. She already had potential husbands picked out for us. They were sons of upstanding members of the church who had already completed their missions. She got stars in her eyes just thinking about our nuptials. The whole idea made me want to vomit on her practical shoes. My mother would have a conniption if she saw me now.
The thrill of earning money kept me awake and with the nerves worn off, I was hungry again. I took a cab to the diner by my motel and ordered the meatloaf plate. It wasn’t as good as my mom’s, but it was decent. I ate until I was sleepy and then walked back to my room where I slept until the afternoon.
This became my routine. I danced all night and slept all day. Occasionally Suzy and I would go out after work, but she didn’t want to get attached to anyone. Johnny had been gone a week and a half and even though we fought almost all the time, I missed the companionship.
In that same time period, I had earned enough to move to a nicer motel, closer to work. My move didn’t take long since I only had one bag. My new room had a kitchenette and could become more permanent. This place also had weekly rates and not as many cockroaches. I was moving up.
The next night I arrived at work as usual. Gary and his brother Hank stood by the bar and I waved as I walked by.
“Whoa, Peach, come back here. I need to talk to you.”
“Yeah?” I asked cautiously.
I walked back to where they were standing, first saying hi to Hank before giving Gary my full attention.
“Peach, Hank here says you got people lookin’ for ya. They came into the diner last night.”
I froze. The only people who I could think of were my parents. Hank handed me a piece of white paper and recognized the image. My parents had used my senior portrait to make up a poster. Personal details such as my height, weight and date of birth were listed.
“You’re not nineteen.”
I shook my head, beginning to feel the sting of tears.
“Then you’re fired. I can’t have underage runaways working here with parents hot on their tail. That’s trouble I don’t need.”
“I understand,” I said, my voice trembling. Gary had no idea that I wasn’t the only girl he needed to worry about, but I bit my lip and kept Suzy’s secret. I glanced back up at Hank. “What did you tell my parents?”
“That I’d seen you. You’d been in before and thought you might live nearby. I wasn’t about to rat my brother out.”
Well that was a relief. My parents knew I was in Vegas, I wanted to kill Johnny for telling them, but they didn’t know where in Vegas. The thought of being dragged back to Taylorsville spurred me to get moving. After this adventure, my dad would surely imprison me and marry me off to the only Mormon who would accept me. A life of domestic servitude was not for me.
“Thanks for everything Gary. I’m sorry I lied to you.”
“It’s okay, kid. You’re not the first. Take care of yourself.”
It took me a half hour to pack and to make it to the bus station; minutes after that I was on the red eye to Los Angeles.
Chapter Twenty-One
I lived like a gypsy and bounced around California, spending some time in San Francisco, getting caught up in the anti-war movement. I lived among many who had left their suffocating homes; women like me who wanted choices and equality. We partied, protested and followed bands whose music clearly showed that they got us. I fell in love with Jim Morrison and The Doors. Their music was poetry and he was a lyrical god. After seeing their concert at the Avalon Ballroom
, I began following the Grateful Dead, picking up odd jobs along the way to keep money in my pocket.
When I first arrived in San Francisco, I thought I wanted to settle there, but without a birth certificate or social security number, legitimate employers wanted nothing to do with me. It had been almost a year since I left home and I hadn’t had any contact with my family. I knew that if I was to ever have a real life, I needed this documentation. So I swallowed my pride and called home from a pay phone.
“Hi Mom, it’s me, Georgia.”
“Georgia! Oh honey, are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m fine Mom and I’m in California.”
“Do you want to come home? Your father is very angry with you, but I could talk to him.”
“No, but I need a job and I can’t get one without my birth certificate and social security card, do you have those?
There was a long pause and I heard a door close in the background.
“Your father just came home,” my mom whispered into the phone. “Hold on.”
For once she was on my side. She wanted to help me and was willing to sneak around my dad. I smiled and waited. I pictured her in the kitchen peering around the corner to see which direction he went from the front door. He worked in construction and usually showered right away.
“Doris, I’m starving. Can you make me a sandwich?” His voice grew louder as he approached the kitchen and I subconsciously started grinding my teeth when I heard it.
“Who are you talking to?” he asked. My mom started stammering. I don’t think she ever told a lie in her life and it was painful listening to her trying to come up with a name. “Doris?” His tone became more stern and condescending. My palms began to sweat and the receiver slid in my grip.
“Who is this?” The closeness of my dad’s voice in my ear made me flinch. “Is this Georgia?” I couldn’t answer, only breathe, and that took effort. “If this is Georgia, don’t ever call here again. You are dead to us.”
End of the Road (Ghost Stories Trilogy #1) Page 8
