Helluva Luxe

by Essary, Natalie

  Ash put her hand on Z’s hip and reached around her for the cordless. There wasn’t an inch of space between them. When she clicked on the mic and started talking, Z leaned in and nuzzled her neck. The room went wild. Ash thanked the band and the crowd. Then she mumbled something about having her hands full, kicked on “Piggy,” and cut the mic. The dance floor got mobbed.

  I heard Ash’s voice in my head again. “What about the rest of it? Wendy.”

  “Oh, wow.” Z started laughing. “If you want all these people to see me throw you down on the ground, call me that one more time.”

  Ash grinned like a shark. “Where is Kendol?”

  “Backstage getting ready for the finale. You won’t see him again until show time. When it’s over, hit the light on the stage, and I’ll get him out of here. Your job is to hold the crowd. I need ten minutes. I don’t want anybody rushing the stage. No interviews, no autographs, nothing. Play the best you’ve got, flash your tits, whatever it takes. But promise me one thing, DJ.” I swear she leaned in and bit Ash’s ear, the one with the microphone. The next thing she said rattled through my skull. “If you plan to drop from the ceiling and fuck your girlfriend on the dance floor again, I want a front-row seat.”

  Ash chuckled and took a long tug on her bottle. “Deal.”

  Chance broke a sweat. And a glass or two.

  Z went on. “Your boy needs to be waiting at the back door with the car running. I’ll wave you out as soon as they’re gone, and then we’re clear. Somebody needs to hit the back light so you can see me.”

  “I can see you,” was all Ash said.

  She hooked a finger into the front of Z’s suit with a grin. It looked completely scandalous, if you couldn’t hear what I heard. The rustle of paper and a soft click.

  “After the deed is done, I want my Four Horsemen.”

  Ash smiled again. “You can have the four sitting at the end of Rorke’s bar.”

  Z looked over Ash’s shoulder at my four best girls.

  “Saddle ’em up,” she said. Then she planted one dead on Ash’s mouth and stalked out of the booth.

  Chance looked like he’d been lobotomized.

  “You’re pawning off the whole family, Ash,” I said.

  “Relax, baby. She’s bugged. Besides, your girls will thank me later.”

  I sighed. “You’re right. She’s a damn fine tipper if you deliver what she orders.”

  That snapped Chance awake. “Wait, what? You and Z hooked up? Oh, no way.”

  “Rorke, you didn’t.” That was Ash.

  “Eat me. Both of you. It was a long time ago. I was weak. She’s into cutlery.”

  “Lips like sugar?”

  “You would know, Ash.”

  “I gotta sit down,” Chance said. “Oh my god. I need a real date. I can’t believe I have to go out with a dude after all this. You chicks are killing me.”

  “Who’ve you got your eye on, baby boy? Maybe we can work something out.” Ash was really enjoying herself.

  “They’re crossed right now. Okay? They’re crossed.”

  “Here,” Ash said. I could hear her flipping through her music, looking for a song.

  “If you play ‘Cocaine Sex,’ we’re through,” he said. He crossed his arms to show he meant business.

  The sound of Ash laughing buzzed me all the way down to my boots, so I had to agree with the kid. I never thought I had a breaking point, but I could kinda see it hanging out in the distance. If one more person got felt up inside my head, and it wasn’t me, I was gonna flip out.

  Chapter 28

  Rorke stretched, cracked her knuckles, and grinned.

  “Don’t worry, Salem,” she said. “The green in my eyes is from all the bacon.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s for lunch?”

  She lit a smoke, put it between my lips, and straddled my lap. My fingers started to tingle. I knew what that leather would feel like. I knew once I touched her, there’d be no shutting it down. She leaned in, and I felt her breath on my neck. “What are you hungry for?”

  Something primal roared through me. I saw it flash, and it tasted like lightning. She looked me slowly in the eye, and all I could think was, My god, woman… What are you?

  And then the front door banged open.

  “Daddy’s home! Aw hell, baby. Next time hang a bra on the door.”

  No introduction necessary. Couldn’t be anybody but Chance.

  “This is the one?” he said to Rorke, cocking his head. He looked pleasantly surprised.

  She nodded, self-satisfied, catlike.

  “Don’t get up, man,” he said and leaned over to offer his handshake. “She’ll get nasty if you dump her on the floor. How you doing? I’m Chance.”

  He never stopped smiling. He radiated undiluted charm, like he was backlit. He was thin, but toned. My height. He had messy black hair that fell into his light eyes, full sleeves and big plugs. Leather pants. Motorcycle boots. Something young around the eyes that made it hard to guess his age.

  He was me. Untainted. From about ten years before.

  I felt like I was looking through a time machine.

  I shook his hand. “Nick,” I said.

  “Good to finally meet you. Welcome to the paragon.”

  I nodded thanks. I was still pinned to the couch by a bit of the paragon.

  “I’d apologize for busting in on you, but it’s against code. We live for that shit around here.” He started toward the back bar with his bags. “Damn, it’s good to be home! We still serve booze in this joint, right?”

  “This ain’t over, Salem,” she said. Her voice was overheated, her mouth an inch away. An echo passed from her eyes to mine. Then she slid off my lap and hopped the back of the couch.

  “Good to have you home, baby,” she called, walking over to Chance. “Make mine a double.”

  “God, I missed you. I’m never leaving again,” he said. “Where’s Ash?”

  “Mystify” kicked on in the booth and Chance let out a catcall. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about. Mama, get your sweet ass down here!”

  Ash came sauntering across the dance floor in black cowboy boots and a hat that looked like a goat got a hold of it. He whistled low, jumped on the bar and pulled her up after him. Then he snitched her hat, popped it on Rorke’s head and took a trip to trashy town. That boy could dance. He was fearless. Spin, stomp, dip, twist. Hell, he even flipped her. On a marble top bar! It was badass. The only kind of pretzel we get on the east coast comes with salt.

  Rorke whistled like a linebacker and stuck a fin in Ash’s pants. Then she winked at me and pushed one of the drinks Chance poured toward the empty seat next to her.

  I picked up the drink. “It smells like Peeps.” I was going to take a sip just to be polite, but then I couldn’t stop. I drained over half the glass in one shot. I could feel my hair growing. “What the hell? It’s an orgasm over ice. The Four Horseman? Again?”

  “Ride, baby, ride.”

  “But it never tastes the same twice?”

  “Because then it would be boring.”

  “But that means you use different ingredients every time.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  I gave up and shook my head at her.

  The song ended, and the other two hopped down off the bar, breathing hard and grinning. Ash grabbed Chance around the neck and roughed him up a little. “Damn, I missed you, kid. Welcome home.”

  “You have no idea.” He landed a kiss on her cheek.

  Ash looked him in the eye. “You’re starved.”

  He nodded. “For everything.”

  “Wanna ride?” Ash said.

  “Oh, hell yes.”

  “Drain your drink then, and let’s get outta here,” she said. “Where to?”

  Chance looked over at Rorke. “Did you take Nick to the bar up the road yet?”

  Rorke shook her head.

  “Mmmm, fresh meat.” He waggled his eyebrows. “You’ll dig it, man. It’s imperative. And we’re right o
n time, too.” He pushed the rest of my drink toward me and followed Ash. They played grab-ass out the back door, and then I heard her fire up the hog.

  I looked over at Rorke. She was watching me carefully.

  “Feel like taking a walk?” she said.

  I nodded. If we didn’t get the hell out of that building I was gonna throw her down on the bar mat, and we’d miss lunch.

  Walking out of a cozy bar in the middle of the day is like getting dumped into an alternate universe. It was later than I thought. Around six, I guessed. The sky was seven shades of orange, and the birds were going nuts. I could feel patches of cool air blowing in under the heat. Our boots picked up the same slow beat.

  “He’s exactly what I expected,” I said.

  She smiled, proudly. “I knew you’d dig him.”

  “Where’d he go? Vacation?”

  “Back to the town where he grew up. His mom died.”

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

  “Nah, it’s all good. She was sick for a while. No surprises there. And evidently, the old man can’t keep his fists to himself, so… Now she’s free. They both are.”

  Rorke sighed.

  I waited for more.

  “He says he’s done. He’s not going back again. If you ask him where he’s from, he’ll tell you the Luxe.”

  “I get it,” I said. More so than I wanted to admit, walking through downtown on my way to lunch.

  She looked over at me.

  A beat of silence passed.

  I looked away. I think she was onto me.

  She gathered up most of her dreadlocks and knotted them on top of her head as we walked. Then she whipped a pair of chopsticks from her boot.

  I grinned. I couldn’t help it.

  She grinned back.

  “You should see what else I’ve got in my boot.”

  What we hadn’t said yet was walking between us like a third person.

  I ran my hands through my hair.

  She cracked her knuckles.

  “He didn’t want you to go with him?”

  “Wouldn’t let me,” she said quickly. “I tried. I really did. I got the ticket. I found us a cool place to stay. I think he, uh…” She looked away. “Damn it, Salem.”

  “You did the right thing.”

  “I think he didn’t want me around his old man. You know, in case…” She trailed off again and reached for the smokes in her back pocket. Her hands were shaking. She gave me an awkward laugh. “He probably knew he’d have to bail my ass out of jail.”

  We stopped walking, and I held a light for her.

  “He’s right,” she said on the exhale. “I’d enjoy killing the guy. My solution to a father who beats his family is more violence.”

  She met my eyes, so I took advantage.

  “That’s natural. But he’s not the skinny wreck who landed on your doorman, okay? Not anymore. He’s older now. He’s a bigger man in more ways than one, and I’m sure that’s mostly because of you.”

  She nodded a little, but she looked away again.

  “Rorke… I know what you’re thinking. If he got his ass pounded while he was gone, he wouldn’t have come through the door the way he did. He sure as hell wouldn’t dance on the bar. He’d be embarrassed. Okay? He wouldn’t want to face you. Or Ash. And that clearly wasn’t the case.”

  She looked up at me like she almost believed me.

  “If he got hit, he hit back this time. Trust me.”

  I begged with my eyes, and finally she reached for my hand.

  “Damn, girl, we gotta get some more bacon in you.”

  We shared another smoke and walked a couple blocks in silence. It felt good. Healing. Then she stopped, and we were standing under a sign that read “the bar up the road.” All lower case.

  “Very nice.” I nodded.

  “Yeah, I thought you’d get a kick out of it.”

  She swung the door open for me, and we went inside.

  Yes, that’s what I said. She opened the door for me.

  Just let it go. It’s a tough girl thing.

  It was really dark in the bar. And deadly quiet. I thought the place was closed. But then my eyes adjusted slightly, and I realized it was packed with frozen faces, completely motionless, eyes wide like deer. Even the bartender was poised with his arms crossed and a rag thrown over his shoulder. It looked like Medusa had stopped by for a drink. Half a second later I figured out what was really going down.

  “The Simpsons” was on.

  And it was on about a dozen televisions strategically bolted to various structures throughout the bar. This is some serious business in my world. Six-thirty is a time of worship. I should’ve known immediately what Chance meant when he said we were right on time. Even the antique jukebox was unplugged.

  Rorke leaned over and said softly in my ear, “Once, I saw a frat boy fire up the box and put a quarter in.”

  “What’d he play?” I murmured back.

  “Sweet Home Alabama.”

  “Ah, hell.”

  “I think that’s his skull mounted over the register.”

  “He’s lucky. Coulda been a lot worse.”

  A cloud of burgers and brew mingled nicely with the dark wood paneling, which stretched further up than I could see and was scarred and scattered with silly madness. There were vanity plates from every state, pictures of celebrities getting tanked, posters for bands, local art for sale, antique candelabra and neon beer signs. And my personal favorite: a velvet painting of zombies eating the dogs playing poker. The bar’s patrons were between the ages of twenty-eight and thirty-eight, and they all looked like people I would know. “Too good to be true” doesn’t even begin to describe what I was feeling.

  Several patrons looked up from their mugs to wave or nod at Rorke as we passed the long L-shaped bar. Then we cut through a double row of little tables, quietly so as not to disturb the ritual. In the back, there was a service window, emanating the smell of salvation.

  “What are you in the mood for, Salem?” she asked.

  “You don’t want me to answer that.”

  She pulled me up onto the step next to her. “There’s a menu on the wall, but if you look at it you might get shot.”

  “Your call,” I said.

  A guy appeared out of nowhere, a very big guy, with tribal tattoos on his neck and a greasy red apron. He had plugs the size of my wrist, and he wasn’t smiling.

  “Am I dead?” I whispered.

  “Would you be disappointed if I said yes?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Well then, follow me, baby. I’ll take you to Saint Peter.”

  Rorke leaned over the counter and rubbed his bald head. “Send the genie out, man.”

  The guy’s shoulders shook slightly, which I think meant he was laughing. He nodded, and she went on.

  “I bloody need me some prime. And a stick of dynamite, blasted. Ring of chokes on the side, hot as Hades. Rack ’em up for a double.”

  I had my wallet out, and he reached over and whacked my hand with his spatula. Then he pointed it at the shirt I had on under my leather jacket.

  I pulled the jacket open so he could see.

  A big smile broke his face in half. Then he grunted and retreated back to the grills. I noticed an Undertaker action figure standing guard by his chili powder.

  Rorke followed my eyes. “Hey, that’s the same guy. Did your tight little black shirt just buy us dinner?”

  “Make sure you tell Evilyn.”

  Rorke cocked her head at me. “I smell a story.”

  “Not here, you don’t.”

  She nodded toward the cook. “I think you made a friend. He’s not an easy one to win, either.”

  “Oh, we’re more than friends now.” I snuck a twenty in his tip jar.

  She shook her head at me. “This way, Salem.”

  I followed her up a winding staircase and past a slew of deserted pool tables. We walked along a railing that overlooked the main bar and rounded a lattice wall, wo
ven thick with dead vinery, black ribbon, and tiny red string lights. I heard the low rumble of Ash’s voice. My eyes still hadn’t adjusted all the way, but I could see the ends of two cigarettes burning. Chance and Ash were seated at a round five-top with a skull-shaped candle holder in the middle. The table was on an indoor balcony that fell even with one of the televisions suspended from the ceiling. It was completely secluded. A huge set of gauze wings hung above the table. Beneath them, a bronze plate sunk into the wood that read: “Helluva Luxe—Bonne Nuit, Lys y le Tigre.”

  I got a chill.

  “The best seat in the house,” Rorke said. “If you talk during happy hour you’ll get stabbed. Up here nobody can reach you.”

  I took the seat next to Chance, and Rorke said she’d be right back.

  “You let her order for you?” Ash said, deadpan.

  I nodded.

  “Smart man. How’s your stomach?”

  “Lined with Kevlar.”

  “Blood type?”

  “Serrano.”

  Ash winked at me and turned to Chance like she knew he was about to ask her something.

  “Do you have that list for me?” he said.

  “It’s done, kid. No worries.”

  “Ash…”

  “Don’t Ash me. You had other things to take care of. I didn’t.”

  I had a feeling I should know what they were talking about.

  Ash leaned back in her chair and grinned at me. “Rorke didn’t tell you yet, did she, Salem?”

  “Do I need a drink for this?”

  She pulled the magic flask out of her leather vest and pushed it toward me. “Depends,” she said. “Is your skin as thick as your stomach?”

  Chance turned to me. “Dude, you’re working the back bar with Rorke this year. I’ve done my time. I call the front. I want me some superficial bitches in tight corsets and too much makeup trying to order Absinthe. Rorke’s Broad Squad is all you.”

  Ash made a sound that might have been a laugh.

  I looked from one to the other.

  “The fashion show,” I realized out loud.

  Ash nodded. “Tell the man what he’s won.”

  “When?”

  Chance handed me a smoke. “Day after tomorrow.”

  “No shit?”