by Bell, Adora
"Well, shit." Erica said, and laughed breathily. Something about the absurdity of the moment made Sara join in, and they both collapsed into giggles.
"So, we're still friends, right?" Sara ventured, once she was able to speak.
"Unless you're going to get all weird about it, then yeah, of course we are dummy!" Erica retorted.
"Good. That was what I hoped you would say."
Erica stood up, stretched, and headed for the bathroom. Sara slipped back into her pyjamas and padded down the hallway to her own bedroom. She was wiping off her smudged makeup when Erica appeared in the doorway, now wrapped in her fluffy pink bathrobe.
"You're going to go looking for her, aren't you?" She said bluntly.
"Who?"
"That girl. Jack's sister."
"Laura. I...I don't know. Maybe."
"Sara..."
"Well, why not? I know it's not going to make Jack fall madly in love with me or anything stupid like that. But I know he's desperate to see her again. And if I can help, well, why wouldn't I?"
"She's kept away for all these years. I mean, Jack Carter's not exactly a hard guy to pin down, just follow the paparazzi. Seems to me she doesn't want to be found. Maybe there's more to the story than you know. I mean, she must have seen all this stuff in the press. If she wanted to get in touch, she would have."
"Not everyone reads the papers, Erica. If I can just talk to her, I'll know for sure. If she says she doesn't want to see Jack, then fine, that's the end of it."
"So you are going?"
"I thought I'd swing by tomorrow night. Just check it out. What harm can it do?"
"You want me to come with you? I still think you're crazy, but if you need my help..."
"I'll be fine, Erica. Anyway, you've got that thing with Matt, right?"
"Yeah. Dinner with his aunt sounds way less fun than playing detective at a strip joint, though."
They both laughed. Erica pulled Sara into a tight hug, then said goodnight, leaving Sara alone with her thoughts. What had happened between her and Erica ought to bother her more, she thought...but somehow it didn't feel that weird at all. They had always been close. Being intimate had felt like an extension of that. Sara was more preoccupied with the thought of finding Laura. She wondered about what Erica had said...Jack felt immense guilt about what happened to his sister, but even so, would she really have stayed away for all this time? Could she possibly have missed everything the media had been saying over the last few weeks? Sara contemplated just sending Jack the details of the club, but she would feel stupid if Erica turned out to be mistaken on the girl's identity. She had to see for herself.
The next day was miserable, grey and rainy. Cooped up alone in the apartment, Sara paced the floor, itching to get going. The club didn't open until 6pm though, and while she wanted to get there early before it got too busy, Sara thought waiting at the door might look a bit weird.
Her thoughts, as ever, turned to Jack. She pictured him by the pool of some five-star hotel, sipping a cocktail, oiling up some bimbo with a perky pair of DDs. Sara sighed. She wondered if he ever thought of her, or even remembered she existed. If he did, it wasn't enough to make him want to call, or email, or even text. Erica was right, she knew. She had to put him out of her mind and try to move forward. Starting tomorrow, Sara resolved, she would erase Jack Carter from her memory. She just had this one thing to do first. Sara couldn't help but relish the idea of Jack's gratitude as she delivered his missing sister to him. Oh yes, he would see her value then, be beside himself to thank her, take her for dinner, invite her to his hotel suite...and she would take great pleasure in politely declining. "No need, Jack. It was just a favour for a friend. For old time's sake." Then she would flick her hair and leave, Jack full of regret as he watched the most amazing girl he had ever met walk away for the last time. Yes, Sara thought, it would all be extremely satisfying.
***
JACK was thinking about Sara. As the plane soared over the clouds, the Atlantic ocean far below them, he gazed out of the window and wished for the umpteenth time that she was there beside him. The problem with touring, he thought to himself, was the long periods of time spent in transit. It gave him way too much time to think. To regret. Once again, Jack reassured himself that he had made the right decision. This was no life for a beautiful girl like Sara. Sure, he had money, could give her all the finest things in life. But he couldn't be there when she came home from work, with a Chinese takeaway and a bottle of wine, ready to give her a foot rub and hear about her day. He would be stuck on a tour bus, or a plane, or buried in the recording studio. Even when he was there...the sadness inside him would never loosen its grip. He had watched his father slowly destroy his mother over the years, taking his misery out on that poor woman day after day. Jack swore he would never become his father, but some days, when he took a bleary eyed look in the mirror after a heavy night on the drink, it was if he saw his father's face staring back at him. He had already lost his sister. Clearly, Jack thought to himself, he was not the kind of man that could make a woman happy. Not for more than one night, anyway. Sara deserved better than that. She would find someone who was worth it, he was sure of that. Probably already had, he considered, and the thought of Sara with someone else gave him almost physical pain. But it's all for the best, he whispered to himself.
They would be at JFK in a few hours, then a cab would drop him at his city apartment. He'd finally be home, although none of his residences felt like home, not really. They were houses, comfortable, safe for the most part. Since the drugs scandal had blown over, there were no longer hordes of reporters on his doorstep. Requests for interviews were polite, enthusiastic, and directed through his agent. For the first time in a while, the media were on his side, and he was enjoying it while it lasted. Jack was glad that they had a few days off before the additional US dates. The tour had been amazing, there was no doubt about it. There were kids in the front row that probably couldn't remember their first album, a whole new generation of fans who were downloading Compass' back catalogue, using his face as the background on their smart phone. They were back on top, and it felt damn good. If he could just shift that hollow feeling in his chest, Jack thought to himself, then life would be perfect. But there would always be a void that fame couldn't fill. Laura. Sara. His lost girls.
Jack sighed, and reached into his carry-on for the little bottle of pills his doctor had given him. Just a little something to help him sleep. To stop him thinking, at least for a little while. He washed the blue capsule down with the last of his free First Class champagne and waited for oblivion.
***
Sara almost missed the turning, seeing the faded sign only at the last minute. The dubious looking strip mall also held a nail salon, a liquor store and a fried chicken joint. The Pussy Parlour occupied the biggest unit, and the entire front was painted black, with neon signs already flashing in the dim evening light. Locking the car, Sara felt a twinge of anxiety. She had never been to one of these places before, and as much as Erica talked it up, she wasn't sure if she'd be welcome. Keeping the purpose of her visit in mind, she took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust; the inside of the club was so dark, the only lights coming from the central stage and the candles on the tables. The place was quiet, but not entirely empty. A group of guys were sat up close to the stage, barely paying attention to the dark skinned girl who writhed around a pole inches from their faces. They seemed more interested in laughing at each others jokes and slapping their friends on the back than the dancer, who nonetheless seemed to be giving it her all. There were a couple of other occupied tables at the back, a guy sat on his own, staring at the stage with glassy eyes, and a couple engrossed in each other. Sara slid into a corner table, trying not to draw attention to herself. She planned to buy a few drinks, be friendly to her waitress, casually mention an old school friend who used to work here and take it from there. If she was lucky, Laura might even be work
ing tonight.
"Can I get you anything hon?" Sara nearly jumped out of her seat. She'd been so busy rehearsing her plan, she hadn't noticed the waitress sneak up on her from behind. For a second, Sara dared to hope that her server would be Laura herself, but the curvaceous brunette bore no resemblance to the photographs.
"Can I get you a drink, hon?" she drawled, flashing a row of pearly whites, and Sara tried to keep her eyes off her generous cleavage as she asked for a rum and coke. She would need a little dutch courage for the task ahead.
"There we go Darlin'," the waitress bent over to place Sara's drink on the table, almost falling out of her tight dress in the process.
"Thanks so much, um..."
"Brandi, and you're very welcome. Anything else I can do for you?"
"Actually Brandi, I was wondering...an old school friend of mine, she used to work here I think. Her name was Laura something or other. Do you know if she's still here?"
Brandi narrowed her eyes, and it was hard to tell if she was suspicious or just thinking. After a moment, she offered, "Laura....no Lauras here that I can think of. Mind you, a lot of the girls don't use their own names in this business, so it's a little hard to tell. My Mom didn't christen me Brandi, put it that way."
"I guess that makes sense. No biggie, just wondering. Thanks for your help."
"Not a problem sweetheart. You just give me a wave when you need another."
Sara had been nursing her drink for almost an hour; she was driving, after all, so she couldn't risk ordering another one. She sensed Brandi was getting fed up with her. Sara was about to give up and leave. She had been diligently scanning the club for a glimpse of Laura - if Erica was to be believed, she had kept the distinctive strawberry blonde hair colour she sported in all her old photos. But so far, there was no sign of her. Sara twirled the straw in her drink, idly poking the slice of lime that had sunk to the bottom of the glass. Suddenly, an explosion of noise from the table full of frat boys made her look up.
"Yeah, Lola!" yelled one of the guys, and his buddies chimed in with hollers and wolf whistles. As Sara watched the girl stride confidently onto the stage, she could see what all the fuss was about. She was tall, with a lean, toned physique and legs that went for miles. If her full breasts were fake, then someone had done a good job, as they looked perfectly round in her sequined underwear. There was something about her, a sort of swagger, that made you take a second look. You could even call it star quality. The minute she stepped on the stage, she commanded everyone's full attention. But it was the face that caught Sara's eye. She was older, sure, and thinner, the cheekbones more defined than they had been in her fresh-faced teenage snapshots. But Sara had no doubt who she was looking at. Laura. Erica was right.
As Laura began to dance, Sara couldn't pull her eyes away. Even in the degrading surroundings of the dingy club, she was mesmerizing. Now wonder she had her own little fan club. Like her famous brother, there was a natural grace and rhythm to her movements. How had she ended up here, Sara wondered? With that body, she could have been a model, a professional dancer...hell, with Jack's help, she could have been anything she wanted. Again, the nagging doubt hit Sara...why had she kept away this long? What had happened between her and Jack that would lead her to choose this job, this place, over a life of comfort? It just didn't make sense. But the doubt made her all the more determined to talk to Laura, to find out the truth. Sara shifted her gaze as Laura, or Lola as she was on stage, slowly peeled off her bra top, exposing her pert nipples to the lustful eyes of the crowd. As the music swelled to a crescendo, she slid her hands expertly down her toned torso, teasingly playing with the strings that held her panties together at the hip. The guys in the front row were growing increasingly rowdy, waving bills in the air as they whooped their encouragement. Finally, bending at the waist, she slipped her bottoms off and stood fully nude for a moment under the spotlight. Then the lights went down and she slipped off stage. Sara felt herself flush, feeling guilty for enjoying the performance as much as she had. Was she really any better than those braying idiots at the front?
There was no time to consider her ethical stance on stripping, however. Sara had to talk to Laura before she disappeared. She went to rise from her seat, but felt a touch on her shoulder. Spinning round, Sara came face to face with the object of her search, now relatively clothed in another skimpy set of lingerie.
"Leaving so soon?" Laura asked, playfully. "Only, I saw you watching me dance. Thought you might be like a private performance?"
Sara felt the colour rush to her cheeks.
"I, um, sorry...I didn't mean to stare. You're a great dancer."
Laura gave a throaty laugh. " Well that's very nice of you to say. And you're allowed to stare, that's kind of the point. Don't worry, we get a lot of girls in these days. Seems to be the new thing. Now, are you sure you don't want to come to the champagne room with me? Pretty ladies like you get a discount..."
"Oh, I don't know..." Sara trailed off. This might be her only chance to get Laura alone.
"Shame. Guess I'll go see if any of those morons want a lap dance." Laura winked at her as she nodded in the direction of the table at the front.
"No, um, Lola, wait. I wanted to talk to you...the, um, champagne room sounds good."
"Well, sure thing. Let's go and, uh, chat." Laura reached out and took Sara's hand, leading her past the bar and through a small door marked 'Private'.
The 'champagne room' was tiny, more like a storage closet, but the dark purple walls and velvet covered couches were clearly aiming for opulence. True to the description, an ice bucket sat on the low table, and Laura poured two glasses of something sparkling. She gestured for Sara to sit down, then stood straddling her, her quivering breasts just inches from Sara's face. Sara could smell her perfume, something heavy and musky, with just the faintest trace of cigarette smoke.
"So baby, what did you want to talk about?" Laura whispered. Placing her hands on the back of the couch, she began to undulate gently, the tight muscles of her stomach rippling with every movement.
"Uh..." Sara mumbled, feeling foolish. How had she let the situation get this far? She felt nervous, flustered, unsure where to begin.
"Cat got your tongue?" Laura giggled, tracing a finger provocatively over Sara's lips.
"Sorry, I...um, is Lola your real name?" The other girl stopped writhing for a moment, looked confused.
"I mean, sorry, did you ever go by Laura?" Now the girl jerked back as if someone had slapped her. Her face hardened into a scowl.
"Who the fuck are you?" she hissed.
"It is you, isn't it? Laura...Laura Carter. Jack's sister."
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," she snapped, but there was real emotion in her voice. Sara knew she was right.
"Laura, please. I don't know if you've read the papers, but....Jack's never stopped looking for you. He's driven himself half crazy over you. He misses you so, so badly Laura."
Laura had slowly backed away from Sara, until she had her back against the door of the small room. She looked frightened, ready to flee, but there was curiosity in her eyes.
"Jack sent you? You his girlfriend or something?"
The thought stabbed at Sara's heart, but she forced herself to concentrate on the moment.
"I...not exactly. I mean, he doesn't know I'm here. But I'm a friend of his, and I know how badly he wants to find you. A friend of mine happened to recognize you from a photo, and I had to come down here, just in case."
'Well you wasted your time, sweetheart."
"You won't even talk to him? He's your brother for Christ’s sake!"
" He hasn't been my brother for a long time. Anyway, he's better off without me."
"Believe me, Laura, he isn't. He's a mess."
"Don't look like it from where I'm standing. Seems he's got everything he needs.|"
"He needs you."
"Well it's too late. Family's the most important thing, that's what he always used to say. I'll a
lways be there for you. Then the minute they wave a record deal under his nose, he hasn't got time for his dumb, druggie sister anymore. That's not good PR for a rock star. He wanted me out of the picture, so I went. And I've done just fine since, thank you very much. He doesn't want me, and I don't need him. Don't believe everything you read in the papers."
Sara was taken aback. Had Jack really tossed his own blood aside, just like that...for what? Fame? Money? She couldn't believe it. But then, hadn't he tossed her aside just as easily, as soon as things started going his way, as soon as he no longer needed her...
"I...I'm sorry," Sara stuttered, "I guess I misunderstood."
"You sure did, sweetheart." Laura growled.
"Listen I'm really sorry for bothering you. Here, please, take this," Sara pulled a handful of twenties from her wallet and held them out, "for your trouble."
Laura scowled, but accepted the money, stuffing it into her sparkling bra.
"I'll get out of your way now." Sara picked up her purse and reached for the door handle.
"He didn't even have the guts to tell me himself."
