Unhinged Read online

  “The fact that they went out of their way to hire you – illegally – is, uh, fishy, to say the least.” He flicked his cigarette into the road. “Even if you are the best man for the job.”

  “Maybe the manager – Garrett, the guy you spoke to at the door – maybe he just didn’t know,” I said. “He came from the States for this job. It’s possible that he simply didn’t know about this licensing thing up here.”

  I was trying to put my happiness about having Dave standing inches from me to one side. I needed to separate my emotions from what he was saying. There were so many things about this place that didn’t add up. On the one hand, it seemed clean and aboveboard, especially for a strip joint. The girls, for the most part, seemed healthy and happy, though of course I hadn’t spent much time with any of them. And, so far, the manager wanted to talk about little more than his daughter and Canada’s Wonderland.

  But Kelly. She had been more than startled when Garrett walked in while she was writing out her phone number for me, and she hadn’t wanted him to know that she was passing it to me. Assuming that Fred was telling the truth, he had gotten beaten up in the alley – the alley that Dave and I were standing in front of, in fact. And then there was Fred’s Zuzi, and the Zuzi I had talked to tonight.

  “Possible, but highly unlikely. Look, you know better than anyone that I’m not exactly a by-the-book kind of guy.”

  “You don’t say. How many IDs are you carrying?” I said.

  “Exactly.” He squeezed my hand. “But I don’t advertise. You know, I operate on a different… level, than this kind of thing.” He nodded toward the club, and the bachelorette group on the sidewalk, which had grown in number as well as noise. “It’s a risk for them, hiring an unlicensed bouncer, and it’s a risk for you.”

  “We should talk to Belliveau,” I said.

  “You should,” he said. “I’m going to stay out of his way. Cops make me nervous. Especially when they know too much. Or worse, when they think they do.”

  “He’s by the book, yes, but he’s also my friend,” I said. “I think we can arrange a little détente.” I held my hand out for another cigarette, and glanced toward the door of the club. There was a small lineup now. Garrett had said I should take a long break, and I hadn’t eaten anything, but I didn’t want to leave him alone at the door. Despite the fact that I knew I shouldn’t trust him, he hadn’t been anything but kind. “I need to find out what my risk actually is, if some cop or government official came in demanding to see my papers, or whatever.”

  “By the time I get back to the bakery, Jonas will know all that,” Dave said. I nodded.

  “One way or another, I’m going to, at the very least, finish my shift,” I said. I started to tell him about Zuzi and Fred, but Darren had already filled him in. So I quickly explained what she’d said earlier. “I’m supposed to walk Zuzi to her car at the end of the night,” I said. “I think she’ll talk to me.”

  “I’d stay, but I have really got to get my head down for a couple of hours,” Dave said. “I didn’t get any sleep on the flight. And I want us all to sit down and talk this through tonight when you get back. The boys should be asleep by then.”

  “Ha,” I said. “You haven’t visited in a while. Those two can stay up until dawn. Inherited the Cleary body clock.” I looked at him under the street lamp, and he did look tired. I wondered what had gone wrong in Jakarta. I’d hear about it eventually.

  That idea made me nearly burst with happiness for a moment. He might never be able to, as he’d put it, trust me with his heart. But then again, maybe he could. Having him standing so close, feeling his presence for the first time in months, made me giddy and hopeful. And in an instant, I felt a wave of love and calm, like Jack was giving me his blessing. I hadn’t felt that before. I’d wanted to feel it. I’d been waiting. But even if it was just my own mind giving myself permission to love Dave properly, it felt as real as the ground under my feet.

  “Go home,” I said, “back to the bakery. Get some sleep, and don’t let the boys try to keep you up playing the Xbox.”

  “What time will you get out of here?” he wanted to know. “In other words, when do we start worrying if you’re not home?”

  “Worry about me? Didn’t you hear? I’m Superwoman. I just stopped a drunk with his dick hanging out from dry-humping a crying stripper.” It was meant to come out funny, but I felt a bit sick when I said it. For a second I felt like I was having a delayed reaction to what had happened the week before, with the frat boys grabbing me. A surge of angry sadness took me for a second. What gave anyone the right to think that another person’s body was their property, to use however they wanted?

  The look on my face must have said it all. Dave was right: I had no filters. At least, not with the people closest to me. He hugged me tightly. “I told you once that you were a warrior,” he said into my ear. The feeling of his breath made me shiver. It had been so long. “You are, Danny, but you don’t always have to be. Do what you have to do here, but then come home. Let somebody else fly the plane for a while.” I nodded against his shoulder.

  “Leaving aside the fact that I’m not properly trained or licensed for this work,” I said, “I don’t think my temperament is suited to it.”

  “Temperament. And temper,” he said.

  “It’s entirely possible that I could snap one day…”

  “And snap some guy’s arm in half? Yeah. I came in just as you were walking down to that table. For a minute there I thought that man was going to be leaving on a stretcher.”

  “I’m just glad he was too drunk to fight.” I looked at my watch. “I’ve really got to eat something fast and get this evening over with. As to what time I’ll be home? Probably two-thirty or so, three o’clock.” The small queue had gone inside; I hoped we wouldn’t get another rush. Garrett would close early if there were only a few people. “I’ll text Darren when I’m leaving.”

  “Wake me up when you get home,” he said. “We’ll all sit and talk then.”

  “Will you be in my room?”

  Dave smiled at me and held his arm up, hailing a passing cab. “Maybe,” he said. “Is it habitable in there? Food all over the floor? Newspapers from two weeks ago under the duvet?”

  “Babe, I’m living with Darren and Marta,” I said. “I can’t get away with much.” He kissed me quickly and got in the taxi, and I watched him drive away, happier than I’d been in months. No, happier than I’d been in years, probably.

  I walked back toward Helen of Troy slowly, trying to wipe the stupid grin off my face. I didn’t even freak out when one of the bachelorette girls clustered outside projectile vomited as I was passing her, and a good portion of it sprayed my shoes and the bottom of my pants. I just patted her on the back, told her I’d get her friends to come out and take care of her, and sailed into Helen of Troy with a stranger’s puke on my legs and a smile on my face.

  EIGHTEEN

  “Are you okay? Did you get sick?” Garrett said to me the second I walked into the club. He was staring at my vomit-splashed legs with something between concern and horror. “Was it having to deal with that man? Because you did such a good job, Danny, and Zanzibar is just fine.”

  “Zanzibar? That’s her name?”

  “Well, her real name is Ann,” Garrett said quietly. “The simpler the real name, the crazier the stage name.” He looked again with distaste at my legs and feet. In the lights near the bar, it really wasn’t pleasant. And I could smell it.

  “Oh, yuck,” I said when the odor hit me. “It was bachelorettes. Let’s just say at least one of them was over-served, and I happened to be in the line of fire.”

  “I see. Well, you can’t be on the floor like that. As soon as we get the new lockers, later this week, you should bring in a change of clothes. In the meantime, you should probably go home. That’s not a great advertisement at the door.”

  I would have loved to go home, especially now that Dave was there, and Jonas. But if this wound up being my last
shift, I didn’t want to miss the chance to talk to Zuzi.

  “I’ll tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t I go backstage and see if any of the girls have a spare pair of pants or jeans or leggings or something that would fit me. Even if I’m not presentable for the door, I could still be here for backup. It’s pretty busy.”

  “Good idea! Great initiative, Danny.” He clapped my shoulder, and I embarrassed myself by actually blushing.

  Hey. I didn’t have the McDonald’s stage in my woefully short career development. I worked at my dad’s dry cleaning business in high school, and, being a Cleary, he wasn’t the “great initiative” type. He was a fantastic man and a great dad, but there’s a reason my siblings and I all wound up with a slightly warped sense of humor.

  “But if you can’t find anything, just head on home, and I’ll see you for your next shift. And don’t worry, you’ll get paid for the full night tonight regardless.” His attention got pulled away by one of the waitresses. I was dismissed.

  I walked along the side of the floor, avoiding the tables by as wide a berth as I could. The smell of vomit is not appetizing when one is trying to eat a burger, or enjoy a lap dance. I grinned at the DJ when I passed his booth, and he gave me a thumbs up. I was glad there was a girl onstage doing her thing, in case he got it into his head to segue into Aretha again.

  Backstage, Ann, aka Zanzibar, was perched on a stool in front of one of the mirrors, taking off what makeup she hadn’t cried away. She was in her street clothes – simple jeans, a plain t-shirt and Nikes – and as I slowly approached her, I realized that this girl could not have been older than sixteen.

  “Hi,” I said. I grabbed the stool next to hers. “How you doing?”

  “Fine, thank you,” she said. She grabbed another cotton ball and attacked the makeup still lurking around her left eye. Her voice was childlike, high, but had a self-assurance about it that surprised me. She turned to look at me. “What happened to him?” she asked me. “Did they hurt him?” She turned back to the mirror. “I hope they hurt him.”

  “I stuck my car key deep into his ear and told him it was a knife, that I was going to burst his eardrum,” I said. The only other girls in the room were chattering loudly to each other by the bathroom, paying no attention. I leaned toward her a bit so I didn’t have to speak loudly. “I told him that we were putting the price of an expensive bottle of champagne on his bill for you, and that if he didn’t leave quietly, if he complained, some nasty people would visit him at home.”

  She stopped waging war on her face for a minute and looked at me in the mirror. “You did?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s only my second shift, though. I don’t know how they work that out, I mean with the waitress or whatever.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’ll make sure I get it.”

  “I hope that kind of thing doesn’t happen very often,” I said. I was speaking calmly, quietly, as though to a frightened puppy.

  “Not that kind of thing, no,” she said. “He seemed to think paying for one table dance gave him the right to nearly anally rape me. I can confidently say that that doesn’t happen every day.”

  I took a breath and let it out slowly. “I wish I had cut his dick off,” I said.

  “So do I,” she said. “But you did pretty well, I’d say.”

  “Do you mind if I ask,” I started to say, but she put her hand up.

  “Please don’t ask me how old I am,” she said. She closed her eyes with the world-weariness of a woman three or four times her age. Whatever that was.

  “I was going to ask if you knew if anybody keeps spare leggings or something in here. Some chick outside puked on me.” I showed her my pants and my boots. Of course, I had been about to ask her age, but with this one I was walking on eggshells. And I wanted to know who she meant when she asked me if “they” had hurt him.

  “Angie,” Ann called out.

  One of the dancers near the door yelled back. “Yeah?”

  “You have any spare leggings for this girl? She got vomit on her.”

  “Not my own vomit,” I said. I stood up and showed the girls who came trotting over. “One of those bachelorettes when I was outside having a smoke.”

  “Oh God, those girls,” the one called Angie said. “I’m glad they’re out having fun and all, but they tip for shit.” She looked at me. “So you’re the new door guy,” she said. “I heard about you, busting up those college kids.”

  “Yeah, well, they swarmed me and grabbed my tits,” I said. “What’s a girl to do?”

  “Story of our lives,” the other one said. She went back into the bathroom and shut the door, singing an aria from an opera my mother used to listen to. It made me homesick for Maine, suddenly, and made me want to go back to the bakery and see my family.

  “Wow, she’s got an amazing voice,” I said to the other two.

  “She does. She’s auditioning at the moment. Does this to pay for her singing lessons.” Angie looked me up and down. “I don’t have leggings, but you can borrow a pair of my basketball shorts.” Ann looked at her dubiously. “What? I play with a league a couple of days a week before I come in here. They’re clean,” she said to me, “just really wrinkled.”

  “As long as they don’t smell like puke, that would be great. I’ll bring them back on Friday. Or I can drop them off tomorrow, if you need them.”

  “Friday’s fine,” she said. “I’m not here again until Saturday anyway.” She pulled a mammoth gym bag out of an open locker and rummaged around, then tossed me a baggy, shiny pair of long shorts. “I don’t imagine you’ll want to be out in the club in those, but it’s better than driving home and getting the smell of puke in your car.”

  “They’re perfect. Thanks. I’m Danny, by the way.”

  “I know,” she said. She smiled at me expectantly. “Well, try them on. And shove those pants you’re wearing in a plastic bag or something.”

  Ann and Angie were both looking at me. I’m not used to undressing in front of people so casually. Especially other women. Especially strippers with perfect bodies.

  “You want we should turn around, doll?” Angie said. She was grinning at me. I liked her. “Protect your modesty?” She had been completely topless during our entire exchange, so it seemed a bit silly to feel shy.

  “Never mind. But remember, I’m not used to having people stare at my body.”

  “Unlike some people in this room, she wanted to say,” Angie said to Ann.

  I took off my boots gingerly, trying not to get the drying vomit on my hands.

  “You can borrow flip-flops too,” Angie said, “but they might be too small.” I pulled off my socks and shoved them in the boots. I felt like the world’s least sexy stripper. I unzipped my pants and stepped out of them.

  “Muscles,” Angie said with approval. “Shave and get some self-tanner on those, and you could do alright.”

  I laughed and pulled on her shorts. They were a bit snug around the waist – like most of the girls, Angie had a waifish frame – but otherwise they fit fine. I looked ridiculous, but they fit fine. And I was very glad to get out of those pants. Angie tossed me a baggie with flip-flops in them and I slid them on. They actually fit perfectly.

  “You’re a lifesaver,” I said to her. She was balling up my pants and putting them in an empty plastic shopping bag that someone had left on the floor, and then she tossed my boots in after them, and tied them up tight.

  “There,” she said. “Have fun unwrapping that.”

  “Something to look forward to.” My wallet was in the pocket of my pants in the bag, but I’d had my keys in my hand when I came in. I wanted to leave, but I didn’t. I wanted to talk to Zuzi. The whole point of this had been to talk to Zuzi.

  “Shit,” I said. “I was supposed to walk Zuzi to her car at the end of the night. Is she out on the floor?”

  “Nah, she booked an hour or so ago,” Angie said. She grabbed a stool and her makeup bag. “Said she had cramps, wasn’t up
to it tonight.” She filled in her over-plucked eyebrows with feathery strokes of a pencil. “Sometimes, you just can’t make the magic happen.”

  For a minute I debated cornering Garrett and getting Zuzi’s number as well as Kelly’s, but nixed the idea when I imagined walking through the club in the basketball shorts.

  Ann cleared her throat. “I’m taking off,” she said. “You want to walk me to my car?” Her tone said that she felt like she was doing me a favor, making me feel useful, but at her age and after what she’d been through tonight, I doubted that was the case.

  “Sure,” I said. “Let’s get gone.” I was hungry, regretting missing my staff meal. Damn drunk bachelorettes.

  There was a side door directly from the dressing room into the alley.

  “I hope you don’t use this exit by yourself,” I said to Ann. I picked my way over a broken bottle in Angie’s flip-flops. “Perfect place for some creep to wait for his favorite dancer to leave for the night.”

  “Usually I go through the kitchen,” Ann said. “But a couple of those guys are nearly as bad as the customers.”

  “Really?” I said. “I’ll mention that to Garrett. That’s fucked up.” I kept my eyes on the ground. The alley wasn’t lit, other than ambient light from the street and the parking lot behind, and it looked like some of the neighborhood junkies used the alley to shoot up sometimes. I walked carefully. I wasn’t keen on getting broken glass or, worse, a hypodermic needle in the toe. I was used to wearing boots, not flip-flops.

  Something caught my eye as I watched the ground. A pair of glasses in the weeds next to the edge of the building. I knelt and picked them up.

  They were Batman reading glasses, white plastic with blue and black bat ears. The boys had given them to Fred for his birthday, and he always kept them in his pocket. He loved those glasses.

  Fred had definitely been in this alley.

  I heard a small squeal behind me, and from the corner of my eye I saw Ann’s legs kicking. Someone had picked her up, someone in black. I started to stand, but something hit me hard, across my lower back. Something both heavy and sharp. I felt my skin break even through the heavy t-shirt I was wearing, and I fell forward. I tried to turn my body, to meet the ground with my arms instead of my face, but I was only partially successful. Something sharp cut my cheek.