by Blue Remy
I stared after him as he sauntered away. Part of me did want to know what he thought, even if he was just a stranger, although an interesting stranger. I left the club feeling perplexed, yet grateful to have a paying gig. At least, I’d succeeded in the first step of my plan. As for the rest, I’d have to figure that out as I went.
Chapter Two
Being on stage was the only time I felt I had something special to offer. It was an unexpected talent I’d stumbled upon when I was fourteen. My aunt Sandy, who had always been a drifter, had left a bunch of junk in Mama’s attic, and Mama being the clean freak that she was, didn’t store the stuff for long. I remember sitting in a folding lawn chair, bored out of my mind listening to people negotiating lower prices for stuff that was already pretty dirt cheap.
Absently, I reached over and grabbed an old, worn guitar that was propped against the table and began to idly strum. I didn’t realize that I was keeping time with the song on the radio. Until that moment, I’d never had any desire to learn or play music. I could hold a tune but wouldn’t have considered myself a great singer. After a little more playing around, then sneaking off with the guitar, I hid it under my bed. For weeks I carried it out into the woods and played, at first because I’d been hiding it from Mama. When she finally did discover it, the only place I could go was into the woods because she didn’t want to hear my “noise” in the house.
I didn’t know how to read sheet music or the proper names for different chords but soon realized I had a musical ear. With a little time and practice, I could play back most tunes. Aunt Sandy was pissed with Mama for selling her stuff, especially when she learned that all of the profits went to the church, but she did allow me to keep the guitar. It used to belong to an ex-boyfriend so she wasn’t all that attached to it. She also said that I had a natural talent and it encouraged me to continue to learn. Perhaps, in the beginning, I had ambitions of becoming a famous singer like Janis Joplin but realized I didn’t have the drive or knowledge to make a serious career out of it. All I wanted to do was play music.
It was how I’d earned money the past couple of years. Traveling from town to town, finding gigs. Jimmy hated it. My ability to earn money by just, “fucking around with a guitar,” burned him up. Sometimes my earnings carried us through while he was hunting for his next “big job”. It wasn’t an easy way to make a living but I was good at it.
***
23 days and counting...
My first week at the Jumpstart went by in a blur. I needed a whole lot of money and only had thirty days to earn it. I was paid a salary based on the number of people who came in the door on nights I performed. This meant I had to work on self-promotion. There were a few other places I’d go to before my 10 pm set began every night. Places where I knew I could gain an audience and attracting attention wasn’t something I was shy about.
***
21 days and counting...
I slammed the pool stick forward and waited for the crack. Walking around the billiard table, I repeated the motion several times, fully aware of the show I was putting on. After taking a swig of my beer, I scanned the room looking for my next target. A group of college kids who looked barely old enough to drink were watching me with rapt attention. Flashing a flirty smile, I placed the beer bottle down, leaned over the table and purposely wiggled my backside as I made another shot. When I stood back up, all four men were crowded around me. By 9:30 pm, I had a group of men following me into the Jumpstart like I was the pied piper.
Feeling in the mood for a bit of Janis, I started my set with ‘Me and Bobby McGee’. I closed my eyes and tapped my foot in time as I sang the words. Ignoring the faces in the crowd always helped my confidence and allowed me to focus on the song. That was the funny thing about confidence. I couldn’t pick and choose what I was confident about. The people closest to me hadn’t been very supportive of me pursuing music but compliments over my looks were endless. I had no problem finding men who were interested in me physically however the rest of me didn’t matter all that much.
After the club closed, the employees and a few of the entertainers would occupy the place in the wee hours of the morning drinking and playing pool. A hodgepodge of misfit characters made up the nightly talent; singers, exotic dancers, and comedians. I didn’t have much else to look forward to, so I fell into their routine. The problem was—liquor, men and me never mixed well.
Maybe if I’d spent enough time with a shrink he might tell me that I had “daddy issues”. I had a father, he was just gone all the time as an over the road truck driver. He’d be away for weeks at a time and when he was home, he and Mama were constantly at each other’s throats. While she turned to God for solace, Daddy turned to other women. When I was fifteen, he’d stopped making any efforts to come home and started shacking up with a girl in the next town over.
I wasn’t sure why, but as a teenage girl, I soaked up attention from boys, almost like a dying flower in the middle of the hot desert. I knew I was prettier than some of the other girls and used it to my advantage –often. I also always picked the wrong men. It was how I ended up with Jimmy.
Lips smacking against the side of my neck brought me to present. One of the college boys from the bar where I’d been shooting pool earlier was kissing me, and doing an awful job at it. I was sure if I thought about it hard enough I could remember his name. He’d been mildly interesting earlier but then again, they usually didn’t have to be all that smart to get very far with me. The scent of stale cigarette smoke and beer breath reminded me of what and who I was leaving behind—and why.
You don’t have time for this, Annie.
“Hey, um…” I put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back while I searched my memory for his name. “M-miii—Michael?”
“Manny?”
“Manny. Right.” I replied, relieved that I’d gotten the first letter right. “It’s getting late and I need to go.”
“Okay, sure. I can follow you back to your place.” He said and took a step back to pick up his jacket.
“Uh, well, see. I was just going to go home. Alone.”
“What?” Manny said, “You can’t be serious.” Yep, I could already see the scenario turning badly, so instead of replying I picked up my own jacket and started to make my way to the door.
“What are you, some kind of tease or something?” Manny grabbed my arm and yanked me back. “You were all over me a minute ago and now you’re ready to take off.”
“Let go of me.” I hissed as that all too familiar emotion crept its way in, fear and the intense need to protect myself.
“I’ll do what the fuck I want. You teasing me, bitch?” He growled back. That was it. That was all I needed to hear. Suddenly my fist came up and slammed into his nose. There was a crunching noise followed by a howl of pain before Manny dropped to the ground.
“Fuck!” He roared. “You just broke my fuckin nose, you slut!”
“I told you to let me go.” I snarled, trying hard to control my breathing. I was teetering on the edge of a panic attack and if I didn’t calm down, I was going to end up in a fetal position in the next few seconds. An enormous crowd gathered around me and the man with the blue Chevy Camaro I’d seen a few days ago was jerking Manny off the floor.
“Get the fuck up and get out of here.” The man growled as he shoved Manny around. He was twice the college boy’s size and looked intimidating as hell. Manny’s eyes grew wide before nodding his head. A couple of the kid’s buddies scooped him up and moved quickly to the door.
One of the girls from the table wrapped an arm around me and pulled me away. She was fussing over me and making sure I was okay. I felt fine, a little shaken but fine, so I nodded. When I looked back the man had turned his head in my direction at the same time. There was something in the way he looked at me, studying me like he was trying to figure something out. I resisted the urge to laugh like a lunatic. Hell, if he could figure me out, that would make one of us.
Chapter Three
&n
bsp; I became obsessed with finding out who that man was and I learned his name was H. That was it. Just H.
I knew my type as sure as I knew my own name and H wasn’t it. It sounded cliché to say but he was the strong silent type and by strong I mean every ounce of him was ripped. He stood well over six feet tall with bulging biceps, a wide chest and those little muscles that stuck out over his collar bone. He had to be a body builder or something close because there was no way he was built that way by accident. H was also quiet. I never heard more than a few words come from his mouth. His warm brown eyes told me that he had a kind soul however he didn’t take shit from anybody.
In the past, my type hadn’t been quiet and having a kind soul was something they’d never possessed. Users and abusers didn’t come equipped with that quality. Every time I’d left Jimmy, I wanted so badly to find someone who was good for me. The problem was men my age usually headed for the hills the minute they learned I had two kids.
H worked at the club that much I knew. However, what he actually did was up for debate. Mostly he sat at a table in the corner with various employees. Everyone gathered there to drink, gossip or whatever they felt like usually. Dancers would sit there between sets, kitchen staff and bartenders would hang around before or after their shifts. Sometimes when I came in H would be working security at the door, or filling in behind the bar. Other times he was interviewing applicants and hiring acts, just like he did with me.
He got plenty of attention from the girls and maybe even had involvements with some of them. There was one girl in particular, a pretty blonde who only came in when H was there. She looked like she came from money, with her fancy clothes and expensive shoes. I couldn’t help feeling like she didn’t belong there but a man as attractive as H would, of course, have women all over him, even classy one’s like her. It was none of my business but it didn’t stop me from wondering. I also couldn’t help noticing the way he looked at me, just the same as he did that night and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.
***
17 days and counting...
I was making my way through the crowd with a drink in one hand and my guitar case strapped on my back, dancing along to the music. Donnie, the actual club owner and a dead ringer for Rick Springfield, had sent me out there earlier to mingle with the customers. While I turned out to not be a lousy singer and could even hold my own with some of their best acts, I was also comfortable talking to customers. Even though I had been hired as a performer he also created a secondary job for me as a hostess on busy nights. This meant between sets, I was to cater to the VIP’s and make sure their drinks were never empty, dance with them, and chat. It sounded worse than it was but at least I got to keep my clothes on. The clients that came to the Jumpstart weren’t the sleazy kind. The club kept a well-established and loyal clientele so I usually had a good time.
I was on the dance floor in mid-twirl when I noticed H staring at me from his table. Normally if I’d gotten that kind of attention from a man he would have already made a move. Was it possible that H was shy? When someone in the crowd came up and placed a hand on my hip, encouraging me to dance with him, I went along. I couldn’t resist giving H my best over the shoulder sultry smile. His eyebrows shot up in surprise then a brief grin spread across his lips, a reaction I took as approval. Feeling encouraged, I continued to keep eye contact with him and began to sway my body to the beat with my faceless dance partner.
I let my free hand roam over my body and through my hair. The appearance of confidence was how I earned attention. The more of it I had, the more money I made. When the music stopped, I side stepped the guy who was doing something that resembled a full body muscle spasm and flashed H another smile before disappearing into the crowd.
Shortly after that, I left the dance floor and headed to the ladies’ room. As I made my way down the corridor, a familiar Hall & Oates song was playing softly through the overhead speakers. My eyes fell closed as I listened to the melody and played the chords in my head. A few moments later, I felt an overwhelming sense of awareness, as if someone was watching me. When I opened my eyes, H was standing at the other end of the hall with his head cocked to the side in part confusion, part amusement.
“Napping?” He asked with a deep chuckle as he stood there with a case of beer in one arm and two bottles of liquor in the other. I couldn’t resist admiring the way his large biceps moved and flexed under the weight of what he was carrying.
Tickled by his question, I laughed, “No, just listening to the song’s melody and figuring out how to play it.”
He nodded again, “You’re good. I have no doubt you’ll be able to.” His unexpected compliment earned a smile from me.
“Thanks.”
“Well, I’d better get this stuff over to Tammy.” He smiled and gestured down to his hands.
“Okay.” I nodded and gave him an awkward wave and disappeared into the ladies’ room. After finishing in the stall, I tidied my unruly blonde curls and applied more lipstick. At least, my makeup was holding up and my head was feeling a little more focused. I stepped into the empty hall, peeked around to see if H was still there. I wasn’t sure why I was looking out for him or whether I was hoping he would be there. Indecisiveness was unfamiliar to me. After seeing the area was clear, I made my way back to the dance floor.
Several songs later, I looked around, breathless and searching the room. I wasn’t even aware I was looking for H until my gaze settled on him. He was casually leaning against the bar top talking to Donnie. Their discussion must have been pretty amusing because both men were laughing. H had the best smile I’d ever seen. It brightened his handsome face and looked a whole lot better than the scowl he wore most of the time.
I felt an incredible pull from his direction and the urge to walk over to him and say, well…something. The more I thought about things I was coming to the conclusion that the reason he hadn’t approached me was because he wasn’t interested. I also couldn’t figure out why his disinterest bothered me so much. I didn’t know what to do with that. They were always interested and it was usually me giving the cold shoulder.
Not able to stand myself and all the doubts in my head, I pushed through the crowd and walked to where I’d last seen H but he was gone. Scanning the area, I found him standing on the other side of the bar, pouring drinks and looking right at me.
“Hi.” He said, looking amused. By the smirk on his face, he knew I was looking for him. Heat rose to my cheeks as I stood there wondering what the hell was going on with me.
“Uh…hey.” I stuttered and shifted my eyes to the bar top.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I was just wondering if you had the time?” I asked, and then mentally kicked myself as we both glanced down at the watch on my wrist. “Oh, um. I think the battery is dying so I wanted to double check.” I replied quickly in an attempt to cover up my bullshit reason for standing there.
“It’s almost ten o’clock.” H said without looking up from his drink mixing. He leaned forward and shoved the glasses to the customer, even amid the smoky atmosphere of the bar, he still smelled amazing. Freshly showered with a warm, earthy scent, like sage.
There was an awkward silence; well it was awkward to me at least. I could feel him staring at me and I had no clue what to say.
“Right, well, I’m going to get ready for my set. See ya.”
“See ya, darlin’.” He replied then added in a low chuckle. “Oh, and thanks for the little dance earlier.” I inwardly groaned and pretended like I hadn’t heard him because, shit, what was I supposed to say? Suddenly I was all tied up in knots and I couldn’t figure out how to untangle myself.
I finished my set that night with Johnny Cash’s ‘Ring of Fire’, a crowd favorite as well as mine. It also seemed fitting for my mood, I didn’t know it then but something much hotter was brewing.
Chapter Four
16 days and counting...
As had grown to be the routine, Donnie signaled
for me to make my rounds, greeting the VIP customers, mostly businessmen and local celebrities. Though my job wasn’t to dance, it was hard not to, as an artist music appreciation was a given. I rocked my hips from side to side, moving through the crowded room and cringing at the occasional pats on my ass or hands groping my chest. I learned from Tammy to turn around and ask, “You gotta tip for that pat, sugar?” Most of the time the poor sucker handed over a few bucks and that was the end of it.
“Tip? Why the fuck should I tip you?” The customer slurred and stared at my outstretched hand with confusion.
“When the dancers are on the stage, you tip ‘em. The bartenders make you drinks and you tip them, too. You just smacked my ass and I’m lettin’ you know that privilege ain’t free.”
“Honey, you better jiggle it a little harder then.” Drunk guy stuck a dollar bill between his teeth then placed a hand on either side of my hips as he tried to shake me back and forth. Before I could say anything the man was gone. I turned around to see H pinning the drunk guy’s arms behind his back and frog-marching him to the door. A few minutes later he returned to the bar and asked me, “You alright, Annette?”
The seriousness in his expression caught me off guard. He wasn’t asking out of courtesy. He seemed to genuinely care. What made the whole exchange stunning to me was that not many people looked at me that way.
“Yeah, I’m fine, H.” I nodded giving him a small smile. He returned the nod then strode past me and into the kitchen. The metal doors swung in his wake while the scent of his cologne lingered behind.
***
8 days and counting…
I pulled the last dollar from the envelope Donnie handed me for tonight’s earnings, counted the bills, and stuffed my portion, two hundred and eleven dollars, into my purse.
