Topless

by Relentless Aaron

  “That’s it?”

  “Gil, it’s only six. This is New Year’s Eve . . . people generally come out from eight o’clock on. Oh . . . Foxy’s people are here. They’re back in the staff lounge. Adina’s manager called . . . said they were running late, but we could count on them for showtime.”

  “You see that, Dino . . . we should have had another large act—somebody to keep these young performers in check. If they knew their spot on stage was being jeopardized, they’d get off that C.P. time.”

  “Gil, when do you guys expect to get here?”

  “A couple hours . . .”

  “Well, just do me a favor. Be careful. This is a big night, your big night. I want to see everything go smoothly.”

  “It’s cool, Dino . . . just tell Wade that me and the girls are fine. And make sure those dancers blow up every one of those balloons; when the clock strikes twelve tonight I want to see it rain in gold, black and green.”

  “You got it.”

  What was Wade selling him? Douglass had witnessed danger first hand, and as far as he was concerned, he’d faced death . . . if not, he was damned close to it. What could possibly hurt him now? He was untouchable! Beauty at his fingertips, sex at his beck and call, money stacked as high as Jack’s beanstalk. This wasn’t hard to do. Sure . . . it was rough. But after rough comes fine, and after fine, it’s polished. Life was good . . . and about to get better.

  On the night of the party, it was Douglass’s idea to dress down in black and gold tuxedos. Even the ladies. Walking into the club with all the faces, all the excitement and music welcoming him; it was something he lived for, as well as they were perks that came along with the territory. The dream that he had been sleeping with. So the black and gold would be appropriate. Black was their essence, their depth and their soulful confidence, while gold was the success, the substance and the prosperity of generations.

  Janice was doing a wonderful job babysitting Destiny, pampering her, answering her whims and sniffs. Burps and bottles and beckons. Janice was like a nanny—no mon—Jamaican with that rich accent (if you were privileged enough to hear it). She said little, minded her business, and was sharp as a needle when it came to attending needs. And she was also waiting at the townhouse, to get her responsibility back—her little bundle of joy—when the family returned from Connecticut. She had been left back to give them some privacy, and was filling the void by preparing the outfits, corsages and a light meal to hold them till the buffet at Black Beauty was within arm’s reach.

  Always appearing as though they’d been on a significant trip, the family of four trekked up the walkway, noticing the waiting limo at the curb, bags on their shoulders and in their hands, Destiny snug and bundled in Debbie’s arms. They hurried inside as a sudden wind would, and took on various tasks, caught up in the excitement of the big night. Janice took Destiny in her arms and stepped immediately into her duties. Finally with the door shut, the indoor warmth secured them until an hour or so later, when they would emerge once again. Everything was proceeding so perfectly, just like the dream. But now, it wasn’t just Douglass’s dream, or Valerie’s, or Debbie’s or Mechelle’s. Now, it was everyone’s dream.

  There was a bystander looking on. Waiting. Plotting. Anticipating the perfect opportunity to strike again. He was at a good distance from the townhouse, in his same ole worn-down Chevy. He was watching enough to be sick with jealousy . . . consumed by his own angry heart. He was building confidence enough to destroy and to turn one man’s dream into his own demented triumph.

  Mechelle’s Words

  My body feels like it’s taken a roller coaster ride in the last few months. I don’t feel sick or anything, but almost as if someone . . . maybe God, picked me up like I was a small toy, he wound me up as much as he could, and then put me back down to march around like an overexcited toy soldier . . . I’m starting to wonder if I can take all of this excitement, considering I just had a baby. I know it’s like close to a year now . . . well, 8 months, two days and 16 hours, to be exact . . . but who’s counting? It’s just that everything is in hyper-speed. I’ve never had it like this . . . living in the lap of luxury, being around so much money, so much sex, and . . . well . . . other women? Two years ago, I would have never imagined all the changes I’ve gone through. I remember I wanted to kill myself after . . . after . . . man, I can’t even go there anymore. Just thinking about it makes me shiver with hate. I’m so glad my sister was around ’cuz, I mean, I didn’t even see a doctor! What the hell was I thinking?! Aaaahhh . . . exhale, Mechelle . . . That’s right, girl. Shoop-shoop it, baby. Maaaan . . . if I didn’t talk to myself (like the psych I longed for), Lord knows where I’d be right now. Probably nailed in the coffin or something. Anyway . . . I’ve got nothin’ against Debbie and Valerie. I mean . . . I do feel something for them both. How can I help it with all the crazy shit we did together. I mean, we must know each other’s bodies like we know our own. Thing is, I know they want children. I know that’s what they were saying with their eyes, back in Connecticut. I may play stupid, but a girl did have some college—hello. I ain’t no Buckwheat. I just know that this is a good thing. All of it. I don’t feel empty anymore. I have love. I have Destiny. I have a real man, with real money and big dreams. And he’s livin’ this shit for real. I could have never dreamed this stuff up in 10 lifetimes. It’s like, every time he says something it gets done. Oh no, baby . . . I know you said you’re not leavin’ me; but me? I’m definitely not leaving you!

  “Hey, Valerie, don’t think ’cause you sittin’ next to the man means you the one gettin’ dick tonight.” There I go . . . startin’ some shit again. Hope she knows I’m kidding.

  “No,” said Debbie, gettin’ all in my business. “Actually, she’s just sitting next to him because she knows that I’m getting it later and . . . I do appreciate you reminding her for me, Mechelle.” Debbie was doing her very best to hide her smile, looking in a hand mirror, checking her makeup with the help of the light on the door panel of the limousine.

  “I have news for all of you nymphos . . . after that session back in Norwalk, you know . . . the one with the triple-decker move we did? I can’t see myself with a dime’s worth of energy for any of you . . .” Douglass was truthful at best and sarcastic at least. He immediately put his ear and attention back into the cell phone, still trying to get a grip on the scene at the club, I guess. Meanwhile, the girls and I carried on about splitting that dime’s worth of energy between us; and how we were gonna force-feed Douglass that new drink, Everglo—the one that’s green and has ginseng and tequila in it. That’d get him up all night!

  While we’re drivin’, Douglass put the speakerphone on so we could hear what was going on in the club. Demetrius spoke up and over the loud music behind him. Demetrius said, “O-h-h . . . I see. You guys are up to your shenanigans again. Blasphemous.” It was clear that Douglass wanted Demetrius to overhear how we were carrying on in the limo; and maybe he was still intrigued about D’s interactions with Heather the porn princess. He even expected the response and almost lip-synched Demetrius’s response word for word. Douglass smiled at his own cleverness. What a life.

  Mechelle

  Demetrius’s Words

  I used one of the many telephones in the club to take Douglass’s call; I immediately knew I needed to be somewhere quiet, with “Hey, Mr. Deejay” thumpin’ all loud like it was; or at least too loud for me to hear much of anything. I wanted more silence and decided to head for the office.

  “Doug, hold on. It’s real loud in here, and I gotta work my way through this crowd.” After I put the receiver on hold, I made my way up the stairway to the right side of the room.

  “Gentlemen, please step in, away from the entrance if you would. We have to keep this area open.” I had to play traffic cop up in there, with my arms extended wide, directing a small group of men away from the path immediately inside of the club’s entrance. Maintaining order in a club and still managing to keep a courteous demeanor, I continue
d on, with my eyes acting as guides, navigating the way through the many personalities who were invited, sharing assurance and appreciation as I passed. In a way, as close as Doug and I are, this feels like my project, too. I may not get paid as much as he does, but I’m doin’ good.

  I trotted up the steps and followed the catwalk to the very rear of the club. There’s a brilliant, gold-painted star on the DJ’s door. Bop . . . B-bop-bop is the code that would tell Terry who it was.

  We gotta get a buzz-in lock for this door, I told myself. But Terry opened it and gave me a nod as he stepped out of my way.

  “Good job, Kid.” I lightly tapped Kid Capri’s shoulder, careful not to interrupt him as I passed. Then I used a key to unlock the back door to the executive office, a passageway that Douglass had Dino put in, in the event he’d wanna speak with the DJ in person. Huh . . . plus he plays a record or two himself sometimes. That old itch gettin’ back at him I guess; like when he used to play at the old Fool’s Paradise. And don’t get me wrong, cuz this is all still real blasphemous to me. But I can’t help thinkin’ that those were the days.

  Demetrius

  Demetrius was headed for that same panoramic view of the club that was also available from the large and spacious office, complete with the luxuries and excess. A big desk with an English leather chair was situated in the corner, close to the passage to the DJ booth. There was a massive video surveillance system with 8 small monitors and a larger one for entertainment purposes. Aside of the surveillance and sandwiched between a rack of stereo equipment and a giant screen television was a visibly soft white couch. There was a conference table (oakwood with 12 seats positioned around it) nearby the 6-foot picture window offering a towering view of the entire establishment. And that’s just about where Demetrius stood as he picked up the receiver from the telephone on the conference table. The glass was tinted so that Demetrius wouldn’t even be noticed by the blanket of bodies down there. Heads were bobbing with the music, bartenders pouring endless drinks while dozens of attractive dancers lured audiences at various areas of the club. All of this, the fun and laughter, the conversations and the music was muted by the soundproof obscurity of the office.

  “You must be in the office now,” Douglass guessed.

  “Yeah. Where are you?”

  “About ten minutes from you.”

  “Well . . . this is it, Dee. The club is packed. People are everywhere, and there’s still a long line outside.”

  “Is the outside orderly?”

  “Pretty much. Dino is on the door with Danni. All the girls are here, fifteen-minute schedules for each stage just like you asked. It’s all going smoothly. And they look good, man! The outfits are catchin’ everyone’s attention. That’s all people are talking about. The outfits, the colors and the club. It’s like they don’t even recognize the dancers themselves . . . oh . . . they’ve been asking for you, too.”

  “Sounds good. Metal detection still not working?”

  “No. Dino is using heavy discretion out front. If they aren’t on the guest list, or they don’t have an invitation they ain’t gettin’ in.”

  “Good. We’ll get that thing fixed by tomorrow. Or the next day, anyway. What’s up with Foxy and Adina?”

  “They’re all here. The show will be on time for ten. Wade’s here too—with Brenda.”

  “Sounds like a good time is waiting for us.”

  “Let ’em in.” Demetrius spoke into the mic on the lapel of his tux, making a decisin regarding the front door.

  “Huh?”

  “No, Doug . . . I was talkin’ to Danni—told him to let Ken Stevens in . . .”

  “Okay, see you in a few.”

  “No. Dee. Wait . . .

  “. . . Dee, this may sound silly, but I’ve lived in the same house with you—for a few years now—and we hardly get to talk . . .”

  “So what’s up?”

  “Douglass, I’m looking down on one incredible sight right now. I’m not talking about the girls, I’m talking about the whole thing. Just to think, you dreamed this up in jail. You planned it out down to the letter and now . . . your manifesto has manifested itself. Blasphemous as it may be, it’s givin’ hundreds of people jobs, keepin’ girls off the street . . . givin’ some type of hope. You’re makin’ money and you’re not even here! My point is that the good Lord has blessed you, friend, and I’m proud to be working with you. I’m proud . . . real proud to be your friend.” Demetrius was scanning the crowd as he spoke aggressively.

  “Thanks, Demetrius, I’ll put that in the bank. Just tell me one thing, would you?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Are you positively sure that you’re not fuckin’ Heather?”

  Demetrius answered the jab sincerely and then hung up. He checked his watch and decided to be out front when Douglass arrived. He left the executive office and strolled through the manager’s office until he was exposed to club music once again. He strolled down the catwalk and descended the steps to the opposite side of the club. He stopped a moment to take in one last look before he went to the entrance. Wade was standing by the bar with Brenda seated just next to him. She was wearing tinted shades that certainly protected her eyes from the laser lights, but probably more so to protect her identity. Demetrius smiled to himself, knowing that the attempt would attract more attention than not. She’s a little paranoid, he thought. At that instant, Demetrius recognized Ken Stevens walking through the entrance. He had a shorter, white man with him. Probably his agent, he thought. Demetrius crossed the front of the venue, weaving through teams of suited men. He greeted Ken briefly and indicated for a waitress to accommodate him before stepping outside.

  Greg’s Words

  Standing outside of the entrance, looking at a crowd of asshungry men, felt Godlike. And there I was holding the keys to Heaven’s gate. Now, all of a sudden, everyone wanted to be my friend. The publicity more than paid off, but if I had let any more people in there, Black Beauty would’ve exploded. Wow. What a splash. So much preparation with the balloons, the decorations . . . the singles. Yeah, singles. We had to literally buy thousands of singles, ’cause that’s how the dancers get tipped. To top that off, Douglass wanted black and gold balloons held up near the ceiling by a net. It took us a daggone week to find that net; and even then, we bought it from a circus owner who had gone out of business. Finally, with all of the woman-power I could gather, we blew up the balloons and got them up in a net. Dino had to do some high-wire artist-type moves, but we got it done. Do you know that Douglass had us put like a thousand singles up there with those balloons?! Everybody seemed to be lookin’ up at the ceiling all night, thinking “Look at all that money.” And then, I’ll bet any amount of money they were thinking about paying their bills with that same money. I had to get a giant bucket, I had to make sure there was enough staff on hand, and of course beer and liquor companies were on the last-minute tip. We had cases of champagne stacked up to here. The front entrance was a whole ’notha thing. A riot! Those guys that were on the list tried to be fashionably late, and those who were not on the guest list (but who had every opportunity to call in advance) decided to show up anyway. The funniest thing I ever saw was that rapper-wannabe, Puff Daddy, show up with ten of his goons. They double-parked their vehicles and stepped up to the roped-off area as if they owned the joint. I didn’t even bother to address the situation. Instead, when Dino looked over at me for the green light, I gave him a thumbs-down. To see Puffy turned down like a dope fiend in need of a hit made me feel like a hater. But I worked hard to put that event together; the red carpet outside, the big Hollywood search lights swinging through the sky. And out of the blue, sir-Hollyhood comes up without warning, basically disrespectin’ our shit. Oh, well, this was one video that he wouldn’t be showing his face in. Just when Hollyhood rolled out, Douglass arrived. He was in style, man. The real Hollywood tonight. It was at that precise second that I was never more proud to work for him. The money, the women, the status . . . I know there’s more
to life, but . . . can you blame a twenty-four-year-old? Maybe when I get older I can think deeper thoughts.

  When Douglass got out of the limo and approached the entrance, with Valerie leading the way like a hood ornament, and Debbie and Mechelle on his arms, I almost wanted to bust with envy. My skin began itching from the goosebumps. They looked so sharp, all wearing tuxedoes and derbies. Once they walked in the door and settled in the VIP area upstairs, it seemed like nothing else mattered. To me, the bottom line was anybody who was in the club was supposed to be and anyone who wasn’t, fuck ’em. I told Dino to hang a SOLD OUT sign and lock the door at 10PM.

  Greg

  Walter’s Words

  “Ken . . . buddy, how ya doin’?” I meant to catch Ken off guard, in the event he was thinking about ducking me.

  “Detective? Is that . . . hey! Detective Wade! Funny seeing you here.”

  “Actually, Ken . . . as of tomorrow, I’m retired from the police department and I’ll be working here at Gilmore’s Black Beauty,” Wade advertised. “Head of security.”

  “This is a jewel of a club,” said Ken. “I’ve been to a lot of . . . huh?” It looked like Ken almost pissed himself when the woman next to me casually took off her glasses.

  “You alright, Ken? Oh . . . I’m sorry. Brenda . . . Ken Stevens. Ken, this is my fiance, Brenda Feather. Have you two met?”

  “Why of course, honey. I’ve interviewed him before . . . hi, Ken, how are you?” Brenda reached her hand out to shake Ken’s like some subtle peace offering, but at the same time she gave him the once-over with her eyes. That’s when I thought something funny was going on. Ken looked a little naked when she did that, and as if to avert her spell he introduced Max.

  “. . . I call him the Max-man. He’s responsible for getting me all my big money deals.”