by JA Huss
I take a second, remembering. Then start again.
“And he would always laugh and say, ‘Oh, Tyler. I cannot. It is all of our responsibility to make our corner of this great, wide earth just a little better.’ And then when I would say, ‘Dude, look around. Bro, it ain’t gonna get better any time soon,’ he would just smile and say, ‘Perhaps. Perhaps not. But how will I know if I do not wake up each day and try? Joy cometh with the morning.’”
Evan lets out a breath.
“So shit, man. Who knows? Maybe tomorrow’s the morning that finally cometh with the fucking joy. Or something. I dunno. I’m saying I just wanna go to bed and I’ll call you in the AM. Cool?”
Black eyes look into my black soul.
“Yeah, dude. That’s cool. Just get home safe. OK?”
“Aw, man. Ain’t nothing gonna happen to me. The Dark Knight don’t die.”
I wink at him. He nods back. Then he takes me by the shoulders and says, “Tyler? You’re one of the best people I’ve ever known.”
I’m a little stunned by this. Check that. A lot stunned. “Uh, you work with guys who risk their lives for other people like every day,” I say.
“I know,” he says. “So trust that I know what I’m talking about.”
Then he pulls me in, gives me a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and pulls back and says, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. K? Peace, bro.”
He winks and we slap palms.
And then he turns and heads back toward the brightly lit frivolity inside the firehouse.
And I turn the other way and start off.
But I’m not heading home. I’m not. I lied. I’m sorry, Evan. But if I go home I’ll just think about all the things I don’t wanna be thinking about. Because I don’t how not to. Except that’s not true. I do know how not to. I know that there’s one guaranteed way I can stop thinking things I don’t want to think.
I can forget myself inside someone else.
I can find someone. Any random, equally lonely and desperate someone. Another empty vessel who needs to be filled. She can fill me with diversion and I can fill her with me. And that won’t fix anything. And I know that. But it will be something. It’ll make the thoughts and sounds and tumult stop for the time that it does. And then maybe, just maybe, I can hope against hope that joy just, just, just might come with the morning.
It may. It may not. But for now, the darkness rules. And so off I go to embrace it. A Dark fucking Knight making his way alone out into a dark fucking night.
Chapter Fourteen - Maddie
Last night at work felt like a welcome relief. Which scares me. Freaks me out. When did Pete’s turn into a sanctuary from my real life?
But it was a good night, as far as Friday night stripping goes. And I made a little over a thousand dollars in lap dances.
I think it’s because I’m getting the hang of this stuff. The whole fantasy thing. I think it’s because I’ve kinda succumbed to my own fantasy life.
Lumberjack didn’t show up last night. Not that I expected him to after the way I walked off last weekend. But… I had hoped he might.
I get in the shower to get ready for work and make the water hot. So hot the room fills with steam and when I get out and wipe the mirror clean, my skin is flushed red.
I look at my face, my eyes, my hair that looks almost black when it’s wet, and imagine what it felt like when my brother died.
“Just make it through tonight, Scarlett,” I tell the stranger in the mirror.
Which isn’t even rational because tomorrow won’t be the end of anything. It’s a new beginning, actually. Day one of the countdown to the next anniversary, that’s all.
But I can’t think about tomorrow when I still have to get through now. Get ready. Go to work. Take my clothes off like I’m making toast, collect my money, pay my debts, go home, scald myself in the shower, look in the mirror… and wonder what’s the fucking point?
“What is the fucking point?”
You go on, Scarlett, the little angel says. One foot in front of the other.
You could always give up, Maddie, the devil offers. Just like that. You could always give up.
If I knew what giving up actually meant… maybe I could. What is the definition of giving up?
That’s my problem. I don’t know. I’m the mountain climber scaling Everest. I only know how to do one thing. Inch my way up towards that elusive peak.
“You should come with us,” Annie says, as I walk out into the living room. She’s bustling around the kitchen whipping up something quick for dinner before she and the other girls get ready for their Halloween job. It’s not one client, it’s like… a whole party.
Normally I’d feel revulsion at the offer. I mean, how many men will they sleep with tonight? Four? Ten? More?
But I think I’m numb to this world now. I’m not even shocked. A year ago I’d be putting all kinds of labels on them. Slut. Whore. Desperate. Sad.
Not anymore. Tonight is the moment when all the things I’ve done come crashing into some kind of incoherent mess. Like rain falling for so long it gathers into a puddle, then a trickle down a hill until it collects into a pond that becomes a lake and then an ocean.
I am an ocean of… of what?
Of nothingness, I think.
“Maddie?”
“Hmm?” I say, dragging my thoughts out of my own despair and back to Annie.
“You wanna come with us? It’s classy.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Classy?”
“I know.” Annie sighs. “But it is. It’s at a private club just off the strip.”
“I already have a date like that lined up, thanks.”
“No,” Annie says. “You’re going to work at a shitty strip bar. This is a club, Maddie. High-end people with money to burn tonight. All you gotta do is show up in a costume and I’ll tell Kimberly—”
“Jesus fuck, Annie,” I say. “I’m not whoring for Kimberly.”
She scowls at me, offended. “Whatever. Go wallow in your pity then. Fuck if I care.” She grabs her sandwich and leaves to eat in her room.
“She’s just trying to help,” Diane says behind me. I didn’t even know she was there. She sits on the sofa. “You don’t remember me from freshman year, do you?”
I try to think back to any memory of Diane before junior year economics class. I can’t place her, but in my defense, I was a wreck.
“I was sitting right behind you in freshman English when you got the message.”
That day comes back to me like an unwelcome hallucinogenic flashback. The banging of the doors at the top of the auditorium-like classroom. The tentative footsteps on the stairs as they came towards me. I was taking a test, totally lost in my persuasive essay on the merits of ethics in scientific research.
The messenger had long blonde hair. It brushed against my arm as she leaned in to whisper in my ear. She was my roommate. Kate, her name was. And she said, “You need to call home.”
That’s it. That’s all she said.
The whole class stopped to look at me. The professor—some young adjunct faculty woman whose name I couldn’t tell you now if I had a million dollars riding on it—said, “Is there a problem?”
And Kate said, “Yes,” in this soft, sad voice. “Yes,” she repeated. “There’s a problem and Maddie has to leave and call home.”
“You lost so much weight that year,” Diane says, pulling me into the present. “Just… like overnight. You left that day. Looking a little shell-shocked. And then you came back two weeks later and you were a wraith. That’s the word I thought in my head when you sat in front of me the next time I saw you. A wraith.”
I just stare at Diane. Unable to process anything but the memory of what came next.
“You might not think we give a shit, Madison. But we do.” Diane sighs. Kinda loud. And then she shrugs, like she did her best and that’s all she’s got for me. “So go to work tonight. Or show up with us tonight. Or drink yourself stupid and fuck a guy for free.
Whatever it takes to get to tomorrow, right? I get it.”
I nod, feeling like I’m back in Plu’s office the other day. Incapable of anything other than a nod.
“But if you want to be around friends tonight, then we’ll be at Cabaret Royale. I’ll put your name on the guest list.”
She leaves as quietly as she appeared.
I force myself to get up and get ready for work. I’m going in early, I decide. Fuck it. If this is my job now, might as well do it right. I pack up several outfits. The pink one, the blue one, and the white one.
We’re supposed to wear costumes, but before this moment I was old Maddie. And I didn’t pick one up. Maybe I thought I’d get out of this day. Maybe I thought I could stop it from coming. Maybe I thought I’d give up before it got here.
I kinda think these same things every year. Halloween always comes, but there’s a first time for everything.
I still have the damn angel wings and halo, so I stuff those into my bag as well. They’re looking a little ratty and I really need new ones if I’m going to keep this whole girl-next-door persona going at Pete’s.
But I don’t think I need a new angel costume. I’m tired of pretending I’m good. I think tomorrow I’m gonna go buy a little devil outfit instead. Embrace the woman I really am. Dark, and slutty, and dirty.
I go outside, get in my car, drive to work like I’m making toast, and when I get there I park. Get out. Grab my bag and square my shoulders as I go inside.
Raven’s mouth almost drops open when I show up an hour early. “Well, well, well,” she says. “Look who’s motivated tonight.”
I don’t say a word. Just drag myself back to the dressing room and start putting on my wig and the white negligee. One last time, for old times’ sake.
There are a fuckton of other girls in here who normally work during the week because they have kids, or men, or whatever. I don’t recognize a single face or the name to put to it. So I grab one of the vanities as a girl gets up to go out on the floor, and settle down to put my makeup on.
“What’s going on?” Raven asks behind me.
I meet her eyes in the mirror but only for a second.
To my surprise she pulls up a chair and scoots over to me. “Scarlett?” she prods.
“What?”
“What are you doing?”
“Getting ready for work. Why else would I be here?”
“You’re not on the schedule,” she says.
“What?”
“It’s Halloween, honey,” one of the no-names says. “Holiday shifts go by seniority. And you’re the new girl.”
“Are you serious?” I ask Raven.
“You might want to start paying attention. I post the schedule every Friday morning, ya know.”
“But I always work Saturdays. I just assumed…”
“Do you need the money?” she asks. And to my surprise, there’s no bitter rivalry in her tone. “The stage fee tonight is double.”
Double. Shit. That’s almost eight hundred dollars.
“You don’t look too good,” Raven says. “Are you sick?”
“No,” I say, gently patting the dark circles under my eyes.
“I mean… I can give you a slot if you need it and think you can make your money back,” Raven says. “But… but you sure don’t look like you’re up to this.”
For a few moments I just sit there and stare at the stranger in the mirror. I feel… lost all of a sudden. I’ve been working here almost four months now and every weekend I’ve had somewhere to go. Pete’s was never my first choice, but it was… somewhere to go. Somewhere I could forget about my life and just… make some fucking toast.
I turn to look Raven in the eyes instead of her reflection. “Where would I go?”
She smiles and lets out a small laugh. “I dunno. On a date? To a party?” She shrugs. “Drinks with friends?”
I turn back to the mirror. Unable to move.
“Look,” she says, a hand resting tentatively on my shoulder. “You can work the floor if you want. Hang out a little and just serve drinks. That way you only have to pay on your tips. But if I were you, Scarlett, I’d take the night off. Take a good hard look at what’s happening in your life right now.”
I just stare at her reflective eyes.
“I don’t know what’s going on or what you were doing out there, but I saw the empty car with the headlights in the alley last week and I didn’t bother you about it after you came back inside because… well, I’ve been in some shit myself at times. And I saw Logan chase you out of here.”
I look at her, surprised.
“Yeah. I know him,” she says. “Not really well, but I sort of know who he is. I know who he works for anyway. So…” She shrugs again. “Whatever you’ve got going on, you probably need a plan.”
“I don’t think I have one,” I admit. “Nothing is working.”
“Stay here then,” she says, standing up. “Serve drinks. Waste some time and figure it out. I’ll have the guys keep an eye out for Logan and if he comes in, we’ll let you know.”
I stare at myself in the mirror. Because I am that girl staring back whether I like it or not. “OK,” I say. “That’s what I’ll do.” Because I cannot be alone tonight. I can’t. Not tonight. Not Halloween.
“Good,” she says. “But we don’t need you tonight. So if you can’t take it, just slip out. No one will even notice you’re gone.”
It shouldn’t bother me that I’m not needed at Pete’s tonight, but it does. It bothers me a lot that no one would miss me if I just… went away.
I don’t know how long I sit there at the dressing table doing nothing. Long enough to be yelled at by several girls who come in and want me to move so they can get ready. But I barely hear them. I’m lost. I’m falling down and there’s no one here to catch me.
Raven snaps at a few of them, telling them to leave me alone. And I suddenly feel indebted to her in a very big way.
Eventually she comes over, slings my pack over my shoulder, stands me up, and points towards the door. “Go,” she says. “Just go home.”
I nod. And I leave.
But I don’t go home. My car drives itself. Or so it seems. I end up looking for Cabaret Royale. To find the girls. My name is on the guest list.
But after a while I realize, I have no idea where it is. I’ve lived here in this city my whole life. I’ve seen that sign a million times, but nothing makes sense right now. I text Annie, then Diane, but neither of them answer me.
I don’t really know what to do. The only thing I do know is that I can’t go home tonight. I cannot be alone tonight.
So I park on a side street, pull out my angel wings and my halo, put them on, and get out of the car and just stand there in the middle of the street, staring into headlights.
The angel says, Move, Maddie! Get out of the fucking road!
But I don’t move. I just wonder why she’s calling me Maddie instead of Scarlett.
Chapter Fifteen - Tyler
I’m so pissed. I want to drive fast. I want to open this motherfucker up and just rip through the desert night headed nowhere. But I can’t. Because it’s Vegas on Halloween and everybody and their saggy-panty granny is out on the fucking road.
“This is BULLSHIT!” I declare to absolutely no one.
It is though. If I was really the Dark Knight I wouldn’t have to stand for it. I’d have the Batmobile and like rocket boosters or whatever. Crap. I shoulda asked if they could outfit this thing with rocket boosters. You know they can. I saw some crazy shit in the military. They can do all kinds of things.
FUCK!
I need to get out of this nonsense. I need to leave. Leave Vegas and all this behind. I don’t know what I was thinking coming back. I thought somehow it would make things feel better. Familiar. But maybe that’s the problem. That’s what Dr. Eldridge said. I seek the chaos because it feels familiar. And the problem with that is there’s no shortage of chaos to be found in this world. So how’s somebody suppos
ed to not to seek it out?
COCKSUCKER!
I need to fight or fuck. Like right now. I can actually feel the temperature inside my body changing. The fire inside me is burning out of control.
Scotty.
SON-OF-A-BITCH!
I maneuver my way off this gridlocked bullshit of a main road by driving up onto the sidewalk (maybe the cops’ll come after me and we can get into a high-speed chase, that’d be something). I look left. I look right. No cops. Damn.
I snake around some more cars and onto a side street that’s a little more open. But now, suddenly, I hear car horns blaring. Not the “woohoo, it’s party time!” kind, but more the “hey, get the fuck out of the way!” kind. And now, squinting up ahead, I see that some asshole is standing in the middle of the road.
Jesus. CHRIST! FUCKING PEOPLE! Everybody in this world is an asshole. And I’m not excluding myself from that indictment. Hell, I’m the biggest asshole of them all. But fuck everyone else, because… they’re not me.
As I get closer I can see it’s not a guy asshole. It’s a girl asshole. Who are the worst kind of assholes. Because you can’t punch a girl for being an asshole. Well… I suppose you maybe could, but it’s really, really uncool and the kind of thing I tend to frown on. In fact, one of my favorite things to do is punch assholes who’ve laid their hands on women in a less than civil way. Even if the woman was being an asshole. Yeah. Fuck those assholes. Fuck those women-hurting assholes right in their assholes. Fucking assholes.
As I’m having this elevated discourse with myself…
The woman asshole who’s standing in the middle of the road comes into clearer view.
Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me?
She’s not an asshole. She’s Scarlett. She’s my angel. In the middle of the road. Like an asshole. Cars weaving around her, people yelling. What the hell is she doing?
