"It's Wendy-the-Pooh! It's Wendy-the-Pooh!" A woman with bleached-out streaks in her hair and frosty green eye shadow had Cat by the hands and was dancing around with her. Cat felt a mix of emotions: she was glad to see her happy for a change, but she also felt a little frightened of her as well. Her breath smelled of alcohol, and her eyes were red and puffy.
"It's Wendy-the-Pooh!" she kept yelling over and over again. Cat couldn't get free of the woman's grip. She realized this must be Wendy's mother.
Over and over the woman kept saying the line, dancing in circles. Cat felt dizzy. Then they were on a merry-go-round, spinning at an incredible speed. Cat was so woozy that she couldn't concentrate on the place where her and Wendy's consciousnesses separated. All she could do was hang on for the ride.
Cat felt something she'd never felt before. Wendy was struggling, trying to bridge the space between her own consciousness and the power her mother had over her in the dream. Wendy was struggling to get out of the dream somehow, to make it all stop.
Wendy's words broke into the dream half-formed, as if Wendy were struggling to speak for the first time. "S-s-stop. Stop! STOP IT!"
Cat was kicked forcefully out of the dream, awakened, and she heard Wendy in the bunk next to her. She had actually yelled, "Stop it!"
"Wendy?" a voice asked. It was Hope. "Are you okay?"
Feeling overwhelming dizziness, Cat sat up and looked at Wendy, who was trying to catch her breath.
"It's okay," Hope said. "You just had a bad dream."
"A nightmare," Wendy said. "My mother. Oh, God. Not these again. I thought I'd kicked them." She plopped back onto her pillow and curled up into a fetal position.
"Do you need anything?" Hope asked.
Cat dropped down off her bunk and padded over to Wendy, placing her hand on her shoulder. "You were yelling 'stop it.' You got out of the dream that way. I mean, I think. That's what it looked like."
"Did I really yell?" Wendy sat up and looked at Hope.
"Yes," Hope nodded.
"Sorry to wake you guys up," Wendy said.
"No worries," Hope said in unison with Cat's, "Don't worry about it."
They all went back to sleep, but at breakfast that morning, Cat took Wendy aside and apologized. "I didn't mean to give you nightmares," she explained. "I'm so sorry I showed you the receipt."
The nightmare had given Cat a crisis of confidence. She hadn't been able to get back to sleep and wondered desperately what Granny Grace would think of what she was doing. She didn't like hurting Wendy, however inadvertently.
"It's okay," Wendy said. She sighed. "I think you're right, anyway. We should go talk to my mom. I want to know the truth. Like it says in the Book of John, 'Sanctify them in your truth; your word is truth.' And I can tell her she was right, if she was right after all."
"Are you sure?" Cat asked.
"Yeah. You know the only reason I've had anything to do with her for the past five years is because I'm trying to save her, Cat. I'm trying to bring my mother to Jesus. Trust me, it's been a little like trying to save the whore of Babylon. That woman does not wish to be saved. But it's like Anita said: she's the only mother I've got. If I can't share God's love with her, who can I share it with? Maybe if I go to her and say she was right, and listen to her, I'll get closer to saving her."
Cat had not been prepared for this, and she chided herself for not seeing it. Of course. Wendy didn't have to see her mother. She was taken from her and put into the foster system years ago, and it sounded like her mother had made no changes in her life nor fought to get Wendy back. At eighteen, it would be Wendy's choice to see her mother or not anyway. Why would she, except to save her? Cat's heart went out to Wendy. She had reason to resent her mother, and here she was trying to share with her the one thing that had made a difference in Wendy's life.
"Okay," Cat agreed. "If you're sure."
"I'm sure, Cat. And we've got the day off anyway," she said. The precollege program gave the girls Mondays off for free time or to visit their families. "Let's spread some light into that den of iniquity."
Diamond Dick's was in a small town on the Illinois side of the Mississippi River that had only two businesses: a copper smelter and Diamond Dick's. The copper smelter had poisoned the small river running through it to the point where local dogs suffered burns just from wading in it. It was generally believed by the god-fearing set that Diamond Dick's polluted folks' minds as bad as the smelter polluted the river.
Wendy had called her mother and arranged to meet her at the strip club. It was Monday, and the place was getting ready for the noon business. Wendy wasn't technically allowed in the bar, and Cat wasn't either since she was pretending to be under twenty-one, but ironically, they could both strip since they were over eighteen. Wendy's mother ushered them in through the back door without a problem.
She brought them into the dressing room, where several strippers were changing out of their street clothes and putting on scant costumes for the noon show. One pulled herself into a red unitard with a hole cut out of the butt that revealed more than the garment covered. A similar hole in the front showed off cleavage that made Cat envious. Another wore garters and a pink teddy with heels and stood in front of the mirror, loading her cheeks with blush. A third was sitting in a director's chair and wearing a robe, a pair of red patent-leather heels peeking out the bottom. She wore glasses and was reading out of a very thick textbook, a highlighter pen in one hand.
"Hey, Chi Chi, Ms. Thing, Mitzi," Wendy's mom announced, calling out the girls' stage names. "My kid's here for a visit. Say hi to Wendy."
The girl at the director's chair looked up long enough to nod, but then bent back over her book. The other two glanced over, smiled, and waved.
"So you said you wanted to apologize," her mother said, waving her hands as she spoke. They were done up in an overly elaborate French manicure, with the nails of both index fingers sporting dangling heart-shaped charms. She wore the same green frosty eye shadow that Cat had seen in the dream, and she could see that it did bring out the woman's green eyes. She'd been a gorgeous girl at one point, Cat thought. But life had clearly been hard on her body and looks. She had deep, dark circles under her eyes, her teeth were stained grey, and her skin was like the leather on an old football.
"I can't imagine what you'd want to apologize to me for, Wendy," she said. "You're always telling me how sorry I should be for fucking up your life. And for being such a sinner. I'm going straight to hell when I die, ain't I?" She tossed her dyed-red hair over her shoulder and laughed for the benefit of the strippers, who were busy ignoring the whole scene.
"Mom, listen," Wendy said. "I want to apologize for not believing you. For calling you a liar. You told me once that the men from Plantation were regulars here. And you were right."
All three strippers stared at them now. The bookworm had even looked up from her text.
Cat produced the receipt she'd found in Larry's wastebasket. "We found this in the assistant director's office. Maybe you know him? Larry Price. He committed suicide recently."
Chi Chi, the one in the red unitard, let out a gasp and ran over, sort of stilt-walking in her stilettos. "Not Larry!" she cried, peering at the receipt. "Yeah, that's his signature," she said. "He's one of my regulars. Or was, anyway. I wondered why I hadn't seen him in a while." She looked genuinely crestfallen.
Cat watched Wendy's face as Larry's strip club attendance was confirmed. Her jaw was set with a hard edge. "One of your regulars?" Wendy asked.
"Yeah, he and that other one, the one who always seemed like he was the ringleader, in charge," she said. "They sometimes come in here together, with a group of other men."
"You mean Jim Plantation?" Cat asked Chi Chi.
"Yeah," she replied. "The guy from that cable show? The one who wants to get us all into heaven." She rolled her eyes.
The girl in the pink teddy, presumably Ms. Thing, spoke up. "The one with the cane tips me outrageously," she added. "I'm like his favorite."
"Is he an older dude?" Cat asked.
"Yeah," she said. "White beard, very old-fashioned, the way he acts."
A self-satisfied smile was plastered over Wendy's mother's face. "You see? Your old lady doesn't make this shit up. You should listen to me."
"Yes, Mom," Wendy said. "I should." She reached out and took her mother's hand. Cat thought of the dream, the spinning, how she wouldn't let go of Wendy.
"Maybe you two should sit down and have a nice, long talk," Cat suggested, motioning to a table in the back. She wanted to talk with the strippers some more without distraction.
Wendy and her mother took her cue and sat in the back, out of earshot of the rest of the room. Cat turned to Chi Chi, who was at the mirror again, brushing her hair. "What kind of customer was Larry?" Cat asked her.
Chi Chi smiled. "Very gentlemanly. Never tried to touch me against the rules. Sometimes I'd go out and sit with his group, and Larry and I talked about boxing. He's a big fan, and my brother's a fighter."
"And Jim?" she inquired.
Ms. Thing chimed in. "Not as nice as Larry, but he never tried anything. Those guys from the church are great customers. Always well behaved. Generous, too."
Cat wanted to ask something but wasn't sure how to go about it. "Did either of them ever request... um... private services?"
Someone snorted in disgust. It was Mitzi, the one with her nose in a book, who had yet to speak. She laughed incredulously. "Is that what you think we are?" she scoffed. "Hookers?"
Chi Chi and Ms. Thing were frowning. Cat felt her face grow warm with shame. She didn't know what to say.
"Listen, Susie Sunday," Mitzi snapped, standing up and placing a hand on her hip, "just because we dance around on stage in our undies doesn't mean we're prostitutes. There's a difference. A rather big difference."
"I'm sorry," Cat apologized.
"Besides which," Mitzi continued, "boy, are you barking up the wrong tree. Larry Price wouldn't have actual sex with any of us. I'm quite certain he only came here for the dancing and the outfits. Now if you'll excuse me, I have studying to do. You see, I might have time to blow a few johns on the side if I weren't prepping for the bar exam."
Cat walked over toward Mitzi. "Are you telling me that Larry Price was gay?"
Mitzi looked Cat square in the eyes. "I'm just saying that guy was a pretty good actor, but I've got an even better gaydar. And around Larry, it was always in the red zone."
Cat looked at Chi Chi and Ms. Thing. They nodded and sort of shrugged agreement. Chi Chi ran her hands down the sides of her body and said, "You'd have to be gay to not want to get with this."
Ms. Thing smacked her with a towel. "Go on, girl. Isn't it time to get your bad self up on stage?"
Chi Chi left. But Cat had more questions. "What about Jim?" she asked.
"Ah..." Mitzi poised one finger in the air and then acted as if checking off a box as she pronounced, "Gay."
"And the others. The guy with the cane?"
"Those guys, they're not gay," Mitzi declared. "Who do you think Jim was putting on the show for? It wasn't for us. It was for the other men."
"Are you kidding me?" Cat said. "Jim Plantation is the most antigay leader in the bistate area."
"Yeah, well, methinks the lady doth protest too much," Mitzi said.
"He's married," Cat stated, knowing her voice sounded unconvincing.
Mitzi shot a meaningful look at Ms. Thing but directed her words toward Cat. "Yeah, and you'll never guess who he married."
"Don't tell her," Ms. Thing cautioned. "C'mon, Mitz. After all her attempts to start a new life."
"Why not? Don't you want the church girl here to know who Jim married? It's not a reflection on Sherrie. I'm proud of what I do, and it's too bad Sherrie wasn't. It's too bad she married that self-righteous hypocrite who turned her away from all her friends."
"Sherrie wouldn't want it..."
"He didn't—" Cat said.
"Don't," said Ms. Thing.
"Jim married a stripper," announced Mitzi. "Sherrie is her name. She used to work here. She used to be our friend."
"Damn, Mitz," sighed Ms. Thing. "You always have such a big mouth."
"I told you I don't believe in keeping other people's secrets," Mitzi replied.
Cat's head was swimming. Larry had been gay, and so was Jim. Yet Jim had married a stripper from Diamond Dick's, and that was the woman she'd met in Seattle in the abandoned condo building. Sherrie.
Wendy and her mother got up from their table in the back just then, breaking up the conversation. They walked arm and arm together, and then Wendy turned to her mother to say good-bye.
"Think about the rehab program, okay?" she said, squeezing her mother's arm as she let go. Cat knew Wendy was trying to talk her mother into the ministry's antidrug program. So apparently her faith in the Plantation Church hadn't been shaken by the revelation that Jim and his cadre weren't exactly living what they preached.
They bid good-bye to Ms. Thing and Mitzi, who called after them, "Feel free to come back here for a reality check any time."
Once they were headed back to the church, Cat turned to Wendy and asked, "So, how are you doing? Did knowing that Jim, Larry, and those guys were regulars at Diamond Dick's change your mind about the church?"
Wendy was driving and kept focusing straight ahead. "At first, yes," she said solemnly. "But then, I'm not exactly a perfect little angel, and the fosters accepted me, and so has the church. I thought of Jim and Larry as gods, and that was on me. They're not gods. They're of the flesh, just like me and you. I'm not excusing what they did, what they all continue to do. But I'm not going to be the one to cast the first stone, either."
Cat wondered who would cast the first stone, if anyone. But she couldn't let herself get wrapped up in this internal church drama. She needed to focus on her investigation, which had taken more than one unexpected turn.
What in the world should she do next? From her years as a student in Midtown, she knew where all the gay bars were in St. Louis. She could hit the obvious spots that Jim and Larry most likely went to. She'd also been trying to figure out a way to get into Jim's private residence. He had an office at the church, but Anita's front desk was adjacent to it, her door always open between the two. After the run-in with Rev. Chambers in Larry's office, she hadn't tried to find a way into Larry's private apartment there on church grounds, either, but it was on her list.
With the rest of her day off, Cat decided to head to St. Louis, swinging by to visit her parents first.
She called to let them know she'd be by, and her father had set out snacks and drinks on their patio, with a festive sun umbrella to block the glare. The weather had cooled off a bit for St. Louis in early August; an uncharacteristically balmy breeze blew through her parents' small city backyard. The garden was in full bloom, her mother's prized hydrangeas putting on a stately show and her yellow daylilies looking dependably jaunty.
Her father had set out a shrimp ring and dipping cocktail as well as a bowl of chips. The food from the Plantation Church kitchen had skewed heavily toward the healthy and wholesome side. While certainly not vegetarian, the dishes were well balanced and decidedly plain, with the Saturday ice cream social the only moment of decadence in the week. Cat scarfed down the shrimp and chips as if she were starving.
"So how goes the undercover work?" her father asked. Her parents knew she was in the precollege program at Plantation because she'd needed to feign getting their "permission" to enroll her. Even though she was playing the role of a legal eighteen-year-old, the church believed in good relationships between parents and their children, and they did everything they could to get the parents' support of their kid's participation in the program.
"They've already sent us a request for a donation," her mother interjected, rolling her eyes. "That was rather fast."
"They probably figure they'd get us while we're feeling grateful to them for taking our college-bound kid off our hands a few months early," he joked. "Y'all
are antsy and tough to be around that last summer."
"That must be why you shipped me off to Granny Grace's," Cat said.
Her father winked, and her mother just smiled. They were all sipping white wine, and since she hadn't had a drop to drink in weeks, Cat felt it warm her cheeks immediately.
"I rather like this feeling of getting to start over," Cat teased. "Maybe I'll move back home and re-enroll at St. Louis U. I could always get a second degree."
"Sure," her father said. "While you're at it, pick me up a degree. I never even got a first degree, let alone a second. Unless you're talking burns, of course." He rolled up his arm to show off the scars he got from an electrical fire on one of his construction projects. "Got plenty of those."
Cat and her mother giggled. "Joe, put your arm away," her mother scolded. "No one wants to see that. We're eating shrimp, for God's sake."
"We're eating shrimp for God's sake? Well, why didn't you say so? I better eat more, in that case."
After the teasing died down, Cat began to talk about what it was like to be undercover. She couldn't tell them details about the case, but she told them about the church teachings. Her father became animated when she came to the Purity Pledge.
"I can see where this is going, Cathedral Spire, and I'm not having it," he cautioned, waving a shrimp in her face. "Under no circumstances will I be escorting my grown daughter to something as ridiculous, insulting, and patriarchally presumptive as a Purity Ball."
Cat couldn't help busting up at the sight of her father wiggling a shrimp in her face. Affecting a high Southern-belle tone, she replied, "You mean to tell me you're unwilling to wage a spiritual war in honor of my chastity? Daddy, I'm deeply disappointed, and so is my chastity. Lately it has been feeling quite threatened."
The three of them were laughing now, and Cat was surprised to find she felt a stab of guilt at having fun at the expense of those she knew in the Plantation Church.
"I'm afraid I've made them sound like idiots," she said regretfully. "But they're not. They want the same things anyone wants. And I find their passion to be admirable."
Her mother looked a bit pained and worried. "They're getting to you, aren't they, Cat?"
Cat in the Flock (Dreamslippers Book 1) Page 13
