Dirty Daughter

by JB Duvane

  Plus, I knew myself well enough to know that if I went back, the old guilt would kick in and I'd stay there, taking care of him and eventually getting in so deep that I’d never be able to leave. No. I finally had the momentum. I was going to make use of it.

  Red was standing outside smoking a joint, his long, greasy red hair in a ponytail when I pulled up to the club. He spat out a black wad of chew and looked at me for a second. Then he put out his joint and went back in.

  I reached into my duffel bag and pulled out a compact. There was a red triangle pointed down over the tip of my nose. It was bright and peeling. He probably wouldn't let me dance like this. I couldn’t take that chance, so I set about the task of covering it up with a layer of makeup, thick enough to hide it, and thin enough that it didn't look too fake.

  The result was a clear canvas, one that could be painted on and renewed at will. It would be good enough for the men, but Red was the one that would have to decide. Not that he had much to choose from out here.

  Inside, there was one girl, a pearly white ginger, spinning around the pole, trying to get money out of a drunk trucker that was bobbing his head along with the music.

  “Hey.” I turned around to see Red, his head drunkenly swinging from side to side. He offered me a drink from the fifth of whiskey he'd been nursing.

  I turned it down.

  “Well, whaddya doin’ here so early?” He had to lean against the bar to keep from falling over.

  “I wanted to see if I could pull a full one today. That all right with you?”

  His head jutted forward and he squinted, inspecting my face, then my body. “Yeah,” he laughed. “That's all right, sweetheart. You just shake that little ass of yours and make us some money.” He turned around and walked back to the DJ's booth near the bar.

  “Why are you here so early?” Maddie, the aged bartender asked.

  “I ran away last night, slept in my car in the desert, and woke up in a freaking oven. I don’t want to go back and I can't keep sleeping in my car, so I'm going to make every cent I can today and drive out to Phoenix.”

  “You'd better already have some money saved up, honey.” She shook her head while she wiped the bar. “It's been slow.”

  I turned around and watched the ginger flapping her legs. It reminded me of a chicken. “I've got to find a way, Maddie.”

  “First thing …” She leaned in with a playful tone in her voice. “We gotta get rid of this bitch. Can you believe her hair?”

  It looked like she'd cut a poodle fop out of a red clown wig. “That's not what they meant when they called this place Red's. Dammit, Maddie. She's probably scared away all the customers.”

  “It's barely ten in the morning. Believe me, honey, you can run circles around that one.”

  I sighed as I watched the ginger shake her ass at the mostly empty bar. “That’s great, Maddie, but what am I supposed to do if I can't make enough tonight?”

  “Just dance.”

  “Okay, have the DJ introduce me as Sally Sue. Put on ‘Sweet Home Alabama.’”

  “Sure you don't want something with a little more banjo?” Maddie asked, nodding at a hick in a tattered cowboy hat who was sitting in front of the stage.

  “Maybe for the second set,” I said with a grim smile.

  Maddie would get rid of the girl, saying that Red wanted to give somebody else a turn, even though Red was probably passed out on top of his desk with his cheek smeared with cheap cocaine.

  The truckers all loved the southern angle. For some reason, I don't know why, it got them going. So I threw on a pair of denim booty shorts with a couple threads for the crotch, a red plaid shirt tied up at the bottom, and did my hair in pigtails. I even added some freckles to make it look authentic.

  I made Sally a little shy at first, sticking close to the pole while I watched the hillbilly carefully to see if I had him. The man was so drunk that he could barely talk. He was hollering incoherently, cheering me on. Halfway through the set he got up and tried to get up on the stage, so I whistled for the bouncer to kick him out.

  Mando walked up, grabbed the hick, and escorted him out. When the DJ cut the music I got off the stage. “This is bullshit!” I said to Maddie as I walked past the bar to the dressing room.

  Maddie followed me in. “What's going on?”

  “I gotta make some money, Maddie. I gotta get out of here.”

  “I mean, why did you run away?” she asked.

  I'd never told anyone about my father before, and I didn't know how to begin. I could tell her that my father was a pig, but I couldn't really describe it well enough for her to understand.

  I could tell her that he threatened me, but that probably wouldn't mean anything to an ancient country bartender. But I had no way of explaining what I was feeling. Why I felt like I was betraying him by going out on my own. I couldn’t explain it because I didn’t understand it myself.

  “My dad.”

  “He touch you?”

  “Well … no,” I lied. “But he's been threatening me.”

  She nodded her head. “I got a one bedroom with a couch. I'll give you a week to make up the money.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I like you. We all do. I'm not gonna let you get into a bad situation if I can help it. Just no men and no drugs.”

  “Thank you.” I rushed up and gave Maddie a hug. “You think I could rest a little till tonight since it’s so dead in here, maybe take a shower? I've been out in the heat this whole time.”

  “Sure.” Maddie left the empty bar to Mando and let me follow her car back to her triplex. It was a simple place with a white sectional, a clock, and a tiny table in the corner with an old box TV sitting on top. It was strange seeing a home the way it should be with everything in its place. There were no food containers lying around, the floor was clean, and the smell was tolerable.

  “After what I've been through, this is heaven.”

  “Is it?” Maddie turned on the lights, sounding skeptical. She pulled out a cigarette and offered me one. I took it and lit it, allowing the smoke to saturate my lungs before letting it out. She motioned for me to sit at the table. “What are you going to do when you leave?” she asked.

  “Dance.”

  “You don't want to do that forever, do you?”

  “For now. I haven't really planned things out.”

  “You know, I am sixty-two years old, and stripping has been my biggest regret. The men are shit. The drugs and booze are everywhere. It's just not the kind of life you want. I mean, how are you ever going to have a decent relationship if you dance for a living? Men won't respect you.”

  “I just want a stage.” I took a puff of smoke. “I'm never going to spin around Carnegie Hall or travel Europe performing ballet. I don’t have the body for it. But I know that I want to dance.”

  “And you'd give up your dignity and well-being to do it?”

  “I don't feel like I'm giving up my dignity.” I took another puff.

  “You don't?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Not as far as I’m concerned. I’m not really there when I’m on stage. I’m in my own world and none of that scum can touch me.”

  She shook her head. “Does that make you feel better?”

  I signed. “Not really.”

  “You see where I'm going with this? You’re a good kid. You deserve more than this.”

  “Thank you, Maddie.” I put my cigarette out then wrapped my arms around her. “You're a dear.”

  Chapter Four - Raymond

  I opened my eyes and blackness surrounded me. I thought for a moment that I was sitting up in bed or against my toy chest in my bedroom and it was the middle of the night. But even when I woke up in my dark bedroom, when the house was silent and still, I could still see light coming in through the window and I could feel the softness of my bed and my sheets.

  I didn’t feel any softness or see any moonlight where I was.

  I shifted a little and rubbed my eyes, hoping that
when I opened them again the shadowy corners of the room would come into focus, but that didn’t happen. I shivered when my hands fell away from my eyes and I was faced with the pitch black darkness again.

  “Mama!” I called out. My voice cracked and sounded weak, but it was the best I could do. “Mama, where are you?”

  I moved around a little in the dark, feeling the wall next to me, the one I had been sleeping up against, and tried to figure out where I was. The wall was smooth and hard and felt like bare wood, not like the walls of my bedroom that were covered with paper that had pictures of boys riding horses and playing in red wagons.

  What did I do? I thought to myself as I felt along the wall. I had to have done something very bad this time if Mama put me away like this. She must have been really mad at me.

  I remembered playing in my room and I remembered getting thirsty. I went into the bathroom to get some water but I decided to try drinking directly from the faucet. I had tried it before but had never been tall enough. I could feel that I was growing, though, so I figured I give it another shot.

  I leaned over the edge of the counter, standing on the tips of my toes, and lapped at the water that was trickling out of the silver spout. I was so excited that I was actually tall enough to reach the faucet. I couldn’t wait to tell Mama what I had …

  “Raymond!”

  I stood up immediately and stared in horror at Mama as she came stomping into the bathroom. She turned the water off and grabbed my arms, shaking me and yelling at me.

  “We do not ever drink out of the faucet. Ever! You know better than that!”

  “I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t know!”

  “Don’t give me that act, Raymond. You knew exactly what you were doing. I was going to make something special for you, Raymond. I was going to treat you to a giant ice cream sundae and maybe even a movie. But now that you’ve been such a bad boy you can go to bed without supper.”

  “But, Mama, I …”

  “If I hear one more word out of you, Raymond …”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  I went into my room and got in bed and watched Mama shut the door to my room with tears in my eyes. I thought she would be proud of me. I thought she would be as happy as I was that I could finally reach the faucet. I thought she loved me.

  I lay in bed for hours while I waited for the day to end, but it just kept going. I didn’t want to make a sound or even move in case Mama was standing outside my door. She’d done that before. Times when I was taking a nap and thought she was gone she would stand there, silently waiting for me to move. I would hold my breath when I heard the floorboards in the hall creak and then after what seemed like an eternity she would open the door and peek around the corner, then tell me she knew what I was doing.

  “I can always see you, Raymond. I always know what you’re doing,” she said one time, and even though I couldn’t see her face I pictured her dead eyes and half smile superimposed over the dark head that blocked out the light of the hallway.

  But last night was different. After I had spent hours laying in the same position in bed, until my body started to sweat and my legs started to cramp, Mama opened the door. She brought a tray into my room and set it on the table next to the bed, then sat down and pushed my bangs back off my wet forehead.

  “Are you feeling better, Wayme?”

  I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t been sick. I hadn’t felt bad. I was in bed because she had told me to get in bed and that I couldn’t have any supper.

  “Yes, Mama. I’m better.”

  “Good. Here’s a little something for you to eat. Some cookies and chocolate milk. If you’re feeling better tomorrow maybe we can play a game.”

  “Okay, Mama.”

  She smiled that half smile that never really made me feel any better, then got up and left me alone. I scarfed down the cookies and the milk as the sky grew dark and that’s the last thing I remember.

  Did I do something after that? Did I do something I don’t remember? I wondered as I slid my hand further along the wall. I didn’t move very far, though. I couldn’t see a thing and kept imagining that my hand would suddenly touch something that I couldn’t identify. Or worse it would sink into a puddle of warm, sticky blood. After that, all I could picture were walls covered in blood. The walls of all of the secret rooms in this house. I knew it now. I knew that they were all covered in blood.

  I started to whimper and rock as I sat there holding my knees and shivering. I didn’t want to be in that creepy, dark place anymore. I wanted to be with Mama.

  “Mama?”

  “Surprise!”

  The cupboard door flew open and I saw Mama’s silhouette. As my eyes adjusted I realized that I was in one of the cubby holes in my bedroom. The rooms in the house were full of all kinds of cupboards and cubby holes. Some were filled with toys or clothes but some were empty. Somehow I had gotten into one of the empty cupboards and had fallen asleep there. But I didn’t remember doing that. I didn’t remember that at all.

  “Are you ready for a fun day?”

  “Yes, Mama,” I said.

  “You don’t sound very excited, Raymond. Mama wants to play with you!”

  “Yes, Mama.” I crawled out of the cubby and stood in my bedroom. I rubbed my sleepy eyes again and when I opened them I looked around in amazement. My bedroom had been decorated like we were having a party. There were streamers hung everywhere and a table set up in the middle of the room with a big cake on top. Mama strapped a pointy hat onto my head and started singing.

  “But it’s not my birthday, Mama,” I said as I watched her move across the room with long steps like she was being waltzed around by an invisible partner.

  “It’s not a birthday party, Raymond. It’s a get well party! Sit down! You’re all better now. We need to celebrate!”

  In that moment, I finally realized that there was something not quite right about my mama. I loved her more than anything, but none of this made sense. I hadn’t been sick and I hadn’t crawled into that cupboard on my own. I didn’t understand what she was doing but I was too young to do anything but obey her. I waiting a little longer while she danced around the room, then sat down at the table, watching her as she cut the cake, her eyes wild and dark.

  Chapter Five - Charlotte

  It was pitch black when I woke up. I jumped off the couch, still aching, and ran into the kitchen to switch on the lights. The clock said it was eleven. That meant that I'd slept through an entire day's worth of tips.

  By the time I got to Red's I was frantic. There were only two cars in the lot, which meant that hardly anyone was there, and they probably weren't going to throw any money at me. They looked ratty—a black pickup truck from the fifties and a yellow beetle, both of them sun-worn and muddy.

  Men like that weren't going to have the cash that I needed, and even if they did they weren't going to throw it around. I kept telling myself—as I rushed out of my car and into the back room—that I still had a week. I could make up the money in a week. It might be tight, trying to get everything set up, but I would still find a way to make up the money.

  “Hey!” Maddie rushed into the back room while I was putting my face on.

  “What's up?” I ducked my head out from behind the stall door.

  “Red's been looking for you. It's been dogs all night. The men are leaving. He wants you to work till two.”

  My body felt like it was going to cave in. I could barely move without something aching. But this was an opportunity. My only opportunity. Four straight hours on the pole, and I might not even need to stay at Maddie's for the week.

  “How slow has it been?”

  “It's off and on, but you're gonna make something if you go out there.”

  I dipped my head back and sighed. “I need an understudy in case I start to drop. Who’s here?”

  “He's not putting anyone else on stage.”

  “Shit.” I banged my hand against the stall door. “All right. But if somebody decent comes i
n and I need a smoke, have him send them out.”

  “I'll try.” Maddie left so I could get ready.

  I never gave the guys a thing during the first set. In fact, I never stripped all the way down at all. I always kept a see-through teddy or a g-string on at the very end. At first, Red hated it. He said they were a strip club, not a jazz club, but I was the best he had so he let me do what I wanted.

  I chose the persona I called the Ebony Rabbit. She was my take on Jessica Rabbit, the sultry nightclub singer. She wore a long, black sequined gown with black hair that fell down to her round butt, and of course, one of her eyes was covered up with a strand of hair.

  I don't sing. That was one of my biggest regrets. If I could sing, I could probably double what I was making at a decent place. But I was pretty good at lip syncing, so I had the DJ put on “Fever,” and walked out slowly with my dress trailing behind me, meeting the eyes of the three men that had their heads buried in their beers.

  “Hey, take it off!” a scraggly-looking Mexican man yelled.

  I turned away from him and started walking toward a blond sitting on the side. He was bobbing his head up and down. “Hey,” he called out, “I'll give you a twenty if you give me a blow job.”

  I turned to the bouncer who got up off his stool and stared at the blond, making sure he knew what would happen if he tried anything. The other two men were too drunk to move, but the Mexican was fiending for it. He had one hand under the table, the other on his beer.

  “Come here, baby.” He wagged his finger.

  The music was blasting. Heat up, fever. What a lovely way to burn.

  I dipped down and let him see some cleavage. Then I turned back around.

  “Hey, where you goin’?”

  The number was over and I walked backstage. “All right everyone, that was Ebony Rabbit. Now it's time for Jade Tiger.”