by Grey, S. R.
“To that new gentlemen’s club that recently opened. It’s just down the road.” When I look confused, she says, “Haven’t you heard about it? Apparently it’s very high-end and strictly men-only.”
“How do you know all this?” I ask. “I haven’t heard a single thing about any gentlemen’s club.”
Of course Nolan would never share information on a new strip club with me. He knows I hate that he’s into strippers. Not that I’ve seen any evidence he’s been to any clubs recently. But old habits die hard.
I ask Eliza then to tell me everything she knows. She goes on to inform me, “I overheard my dad bitching about the place the other day. He was talking on the phone with someone, and he said the last thing his players needed was a distraction three short blocks from the arena.”
“A gentlemen’s club…” I let out a sarcastic cough. “They may as well just call it what it is—a disgusting strip joint!”
“Really.” Eliza rolls her eyes.
I then get to thinking, which is always dangerous, especially when that interview Nolan did with Marty Quick keeps popping into my mind. Visions of Nolan and hordes of strippers crowd my thoughts, like a thong-clad army. All I know is I don’t like this. Nolan’s been sexually frustrated because he can’t have me. What kind of trouble might he get into if he’s inundated with strippers at this club?
Possibly a lot of trouble, with many naked female bodies, like he did in Toronto, over the course of two days, with nine freaking strippers!
No. Just hell no!
“I know what we need to do,” I say to Eliza.
“What?”
“We need to pay this little men-only club a visit.”
“Why?”
I can’t tell her about Nolan’s indiscretion, or about how I’m feeling the need to get my ass down there to keep him from making the same mistake he did this past summer. So I just say, “Don’t you think it’d be funny if we got in somehow? Imagine the looks on Nolan and Benny’s faces when they see us in their little den of iniquity.”
“Yeah, that could be kind of fun,” she agrees. “Surprising them like that.”
I sense she’s really just looking for a way to see Benny again. But hey, that works for me.
After a beat, she asks, “How do you suppose we’ll get in? It’s men-only, remember?”
“Ah, I actually think I have a way around that.”
I go on to share my ingenious plan with Eliza, stressing again how fun it’ll be to turn the tables on the guys. I don’t add that this is more about my attempt to keep Nolan far, far away from the talent.
I Just Can’t Stay Away from Tits and Ass
I just can’t stay away from tits and ass, though tonight I have a good reason.
In the interest of keeping my friend and linemate safe from the wrath of Coach T, which is necessary when I receive the text from Lainey asking if Benny and I would like to join her and Eliza to go eat somewhere, I nominate him and myself to join the couple of players planning on checking out some new gentlemen’s club down the street.
Since I don’t really want to go, and misery loves company, I get to work on trying to enlist Brent to join me and Benny and the two other dudes.
“Hey, man,” I say to him when he steps out of the showers, towel around his waist. “How about escaping Aubrey’s clutches for a while tonight? We’re heading down to that new strip club.”
It’s no surprise when Brent sits down on the bench by his locker and says, “Thanks for asking, but I think I’ll pass.”
“Your loss, man,” Benny interjects as he’s straightening his tie. He’s farther along in the getting-ready department since he didn’t have as many post-game interviews as Brent and I did.
Which incidentally, man, what a great game.
“Boys,” Brent says, his tone putting the kibosh on any motivation for pressing him to join us. “I got everything I could ever want, or need, waiting for me back at my house.”
I resist the urge to gag. But then again, does the idea of a committed relationship like Brent and Aubrey’s really make me feel sick?
Not so much anymore.
The old Nolan would be calling out Brent, saying he’s a pussy. But this new version of me is content with keeping my mouth shut and accepting his response with grace. Truth is, when you get right down to it, I don’t really want to go to this strip joint either. I’m doing it solely to keep Benny and Eliza from making a fucking major mistake.
Seems my taste for strippers and strip clubs has waned considerably since spending so much time with Lainey. We label ourselves “just friends,” but some stupid, hopeful part of me is waiting for her to give the green light for us to move forward and get back to where we once were. I was in denial for so long, but I think I’m finally accepting the truth—I miss being close with her. And I don’t mean just sex. I long to simply hold her again, maybe kiss her till she’s breathless.
Of course, she’s probably pissed as hell at me at the moment. I feel like crap, having to send back a text effectively dismissing her. Poor girl, all she wanted to do was go out and eat, just the four of us, like we did this afternoon.
It would’ve been fun too, if only Benny and Eliza weren’t so into each other.
“You ready to go?” Benny asks once we’re both fully dressed. “The other guys are already outside.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
He cocks his head. “You sure you’re up for this, dude? We could always do something else.”
I feel bad that I didn’t share with him that the girls wanted us to go to dinner. I don’t know which he would’ve opted for if given a choice. But based on him being up for ditching the guys so readily, I think he’d have chosen the option where he could see Eliza again.
“Solvenson?” he prompts.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” I start heading for the locker room exit. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
At the gentlemen’s club, it’s the usual scene of drunken guys watching hot girls take off their clothes. And this is a club where all the clothes go.
The teammates we’re out with are a couple of the newer young guys. They were called up from our minors system, so it’s no surprise they’re eager to impress me and Benny. They tip the doorman a bundle to secure us front row seats, and then they insist on buying the first round of drinks.
Before we can stop them, they’re gone. But when they return with vodka tonics for everyone, one of them has to return to the bar to exchange one drink for soda water for Benny.
“I tried to tell you guys I don’t drink anymore,” he says to the player remaining.
“It’s cool, man. Sobriety is something to be proud of.”
“It is,” I agree, giving Benny an I’m proud of you nod.
I am proud of him too. There was once a time he would’ve declined coming out. He spent several months post-rehab pretty much avoiding any and all social events where alcohol might be involved, which included most all outings last season. But after we won the Stanley Cup he started going out again. And since that day, he’s been fine with hanging with us.
With that in mind, I turn to him and say, “It’s great you can come out with us like this again.”
“Yeah, it’s just like old times, eh? But without the total craziness.” He holds up his soda water, and I tap my glass to his. And then our attention is directed to the stage, where the first dancer is coming out.
“Shit, talk about a total girl-next-door look,” I mutter as I tip my rocks glass back and take a drink.
It’s true—this first girl looks like she just stepped off a college campus. I’m used to professionals—chicks with huge fake tits, big hair, and surgeon-sculpted bodies.
“You’re right,” Benny says. “She definitely does not look like your run-of-the-mill stripper.”
One of the young guys leans in and informs us, “It’s amateur night, so these are all fresh rookies.”
“Cool.” Benny nods appr
ovingly. “Real girls taking off their clothes always beat the pros.”
I can’t disagree. And because I am a man before anything else, I proceed to sit back and enjoy the show.
Rack City, Bitch
“Uh, I don’t know if we should do this,” Eliza says as we approach the neon-bedecked gentlemen’s club entrance. “I’m definitely having second thoughts.”
“We’ll be fine,” I assure her.
She looks back longingly in the direction of the arena, but it’s only a glimmer in the distance. We walked the couple of blocks down, having left our cars parked back at the Desert Sports Complex.
“We’re here now.” I point to the warehouse building with a medieval façade. “Let’s give this thing a try.”
“Yeah, but I think getting in is going to be harder than we thought.” She points over to a large sign that’s carved into the fake stone. “I mean, check out that sign stating no women allowed. It’s freaking etched in stone, Lainey! I don’t think they’re going to bend the rules for us.”
“How archaic,” I retort, suddenly struck by how sexist the stupid rule is.
I say as much, and Eliza retorts, “Um, I think this place kind of epitomizes and thrives on sexism.”
To illustrate her point, she gestures to the several neon-outlined naked girl silhouettes that line the front of the building.
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m dressed like an employee. It’ll be our ticket in.” I lock my arm with hers, and we start up a set of metal steps that lead to a thick steel door manned by a big beefy bouncer, one who’s eyeing us warily.
I lean in and whisper to Eliza, “Okay, here’s the plan. I’m going to tell that guy I work here and that you want to come in with me so you can apply for a job.”
God, I hope Nolan and Benny are really here. Otherwise, this is about to turn into a totally embarrassing experience.
“I just hope that works,” she whispers back as we continue up the steps.
“It will,” I reply.
But before we reach the top of the steps the bouncer jerks his huge thumb to indicate the side of the building.
We stop in our tracks, and he yells down to us, “You’re a little late, ladies, but if you still want in the entrance for you is around the back.”
“The entrance for us?” I mutter, confused. “I thought this place was strictly for the boys.”
Even though I don’t think he heard me, he scowls down at me, like how dare I question him. “Was I stuttering?” he says.
Eek! “Um, no.”
“Get yours asses moving, then! Go around to the back!”
“Yes, sir,” Eliza squeaks out as we spin around and hightail it down the stairs.
“He doesn’t look like the kind of guy you mess with,” Eliza remarks as we race around the side of the building to this supposed ladies-only entrance in the back.
I agree, and walk faster. Despite the detour and the little scare, I’m bolstered by the fact we haven’t been shooed away completely.
We’re here, and we’re doing this! We’re going to get in and shock the shit out of the guys. And I’m going to make sure Nolan is behaving, damn it!
This seems too easy, though, which worries me a little, prompting me to say to Eliza, “It’s weird we didn’t have to talk him into letting us in.”
She shrugs. “Guess he already figures we work here. I mean, why else would we want in?”
“Yeah, I guess…”
The truth is, something is bothering me. I just can’t pin what it is just yet.
I’m about to suggest giving up and going back to our cars, but just then we turn the corner and run right into a heavyset hulk of a man. We jump back, and he narrows his squinty eyes at us, looking none too happy.
I get the immediate impression that this scary dude is in charge around here. Maybe it’s due to the fact he looks uncannily like the main mobster dude in the show The Sopranos. What was that character’s name? Tony, right? Well, this is Tony on steroids.
“Maybe we should leave,” Eliza whispers.
“I’m in total agreement,” I mumble back.
But before we can spin around and make a run for it, Tony, in a commanding voice, barks out, “Hurry up and get your asses inside the building, ladies. The show’s over and the other girls have left, but”—he eyes us both hungrily—“I think we can make an exception and squeeze you in.”
“Squeeze us in for what?” I ask, wary. Surely, he doesn’t mean for one of us to dance?
Tony doesn’t supply an answer to my inquiry. Instead, he just reaches around with his big bearlike arm and shoves us through the propped-open back door, like neither of us weighs an ounce.
We’re thrust into a sweaty-smelling dark hall and, as he slams the door shut, leaving us alone, Eliza spits out, “Who the hell does he think he is?” She places her hand on the closed door, ready to go back out. “The bouncer at the front door was bad enough, but at least he didn’t touch us. This guy, though… I have a few things to say to him.”
When she starts to turn the handle, to go bitch out Tony—is she nuts?—I yank her away and pull her deeper into the dark corridor.
“What’s gotten into you?” I hiss. “You were scared of the guy in the front. What makes you think you can take on Tony?”
“Who?”
“Tony Soprano, from the TV show about the mafia. That guy looks just like him. And you want to go argue with him. Do you have a death wish?”
She rolls her emerald eyes at me. “Oh, stop. He just made me mad, is all. And for the record, just because he looks like a mobster doesn’t mean he is one, Lainey. I’m sure he just works here, like the guy in the front. You’re so dramatic sometimes.”
“Let’s just not antagonize him. Please.”
“Okay, fine.” She sighs. “But what do we do now? This was your grand plan, remember? And now we’re stuck in this dark, creepy hallway, nowhere near the guys.”
“Hey, we’re in, right? I say we make our way to the audience area. That’s where we’ll find the guys.” I purse my lips, glancing left and right. “Let’s just choose a direction and see where it leads.”
Eliza finally settles down. “Okay, let’s do this.”
I smirk, back on plan myself. “This might work out better than coming in through the front. For the surprise factor, you know? The guys would never expect us to emerge from the back.”
“If they’re even here,” she says, sounding suddenly worried they might not be and all this grief will be for nothing.
“Don’t worry. I have a feeling they are.” Crap, I hope I’m right.
And then, like it’s meant to be, I swear I hear Nolan’s low-timbre laugh. I listen more closely and detect the muffled murmuring of male voices from the left side of the hall.
“This direction must be the way to the audience,” I say, pointing down that way. “Come on, let’s hurry.”
We start walking so quickly that we may as well just jog. And we do for about twenty seconds. Then we’re brought to a screeching halt when a very tall, very busty blonde woman, one squeezed into a tight red sequined gown like a sausage, just about bowls us over.
“Oh, sorry,” she says, stepping back and tottering on her high heels. Narrowing her heavily lined eyes at us, and tapping a pointy fingernail to her pink-glossed mouth, she adds, “Hmm, I thought we were done for the night. All the other girls have left. Did Gus let you in?”
Assuming that’s Tony, I nod.
She sighs. “I can see why he sent you in, but it is awfully late.”
Eliza and I look at each other and shrug.
She looks us over then, like real thoroughly. After a minute, she turns to continue down the hall, beckoning for us to follow.
We do, and I hear her muttering to herself, “What the hell. We still have a decent-sized crowd. It’s just a shame I can only fit one of them in.”
“What’s she blabbering about?” Eliza whispers to me as we continue to follow the blonde. “Fit one of us in for wha
t exactly?”
“I have no idea,” I reply, though I have a sneaking suspicion, one I’ve suspected but denied to myself, since Tony/Gus shoved us into this place.
My suspicion is confirmed when we turn a corner and step into a brightly lit room. It’s a dressing room, lined with tables, lighted mirrors, makeup, and hair products. There are several glittery costumes strewn about, as well.
“Shit.” I turn to Eliza. “She must think we’re here to dance.”
Eliza’s eyes widen and her face pales. “Dance, like where? Up on the stage?”
I draw in a stuttered breath. This is worse than I thought. “I think so.”
Eliza hisses, “Now who’s the crazy one? I’m not going out there and shaking my booty for a roomful of horny men.”
Busty Blonde is watching our exchange, hands on her hips. In a chastising tone, she politely informs us, “Now is not the time to develop a case of the nerves.”
With her gaze resting on me, likely because of my attire, she says, “I do have to tell you that I love this look you’ve come up with for tonight. It’s kind of a like a hockey whore chic, yes?”
I glance over at Eliza. “Told you I looked like a puck bunny on the prowl!”
She shrugs, and Busty Blonde quickly says, “No, no, this look is perfect. We have a few Wolves players out in the audience tonight, and this’ll play perfectly for a grand finale.”
This confirms that the guys are here. Still, am I really going to go out and dance on a stage in front of a roomful of horny men? And what about the disrobing part? I could always just take off the jersey and corset and leave the rest.
Swallowing hard, I turn to Eliza. My expression pleads for her to tell me what to do.
“It’s up to you, Lainey,” she says.
“If I go out there, it may be worth the humiliation. Nolan likes strippers so much? Well, let’s see how much he likes them when it’s me up on the stage. It’s sure to drive him nuts, way more than me just showing up here.”
“It probably would,” she agrees.
Now that I have clarity of purpose—teaching Nolan a lesson that two can play at the strip club game—I’m warming to the idea of dancing.
