Things We Do in the Dark(66)

The Cherry was where you landed when life didn’t go as planned. It didn’t have to be a bad thing. But it wasn’t really a great thing.

One of the bouncers poked his head into the dressing room. “Hey, Betty.”

“Fuck off, Rory,” Dallas said. “No men allowed.”

“I just need Betty for a second,” the bouncer said. “Hey, Betty. Betty.”

Joey swiveled to face him, her mouth full of chicken. “Sorry, wrong Asian stripper.”

“Shit.” Rory deflated when he saw her face. “You know if Betty’s coming in tonight?”

“Don’t know. My Filipino telepathy isn’t working at the moment.”

Beside her, Dallas snorted. After Rory left, Joey turned to her with a grin, but saw that the other dancer wasn’t laughing. It was just a line of coke going up her nose.

“Okay, where’d you score that?” Joey glanced back over her shoulder to make sure no one else was around. “You know you can’t do that shit inside the club. Cherry will fire you.”

“Betty hooked me up.” The dancer adjusted her breasts inside her blue crop top. Because she was so thin, her breast implants made her boobs look like bolt-ons (even Dallas called them that), but it worked for her. Onstage, when she untied her top, they’d burst out, and it always got a loud cheer. “This batch is cut with too much shit, though. Two hits and I can barely feel it. Usually she gets the good stuff.”

Joey sighed and finished her dinner. She’d tried so many times to talk Mae out of selling, but the money was even better than dancing. The two of them had opposite personalities—Joey was the calm, while Mae was the storm—and it was impossible to tell Mae what to do. Still, they balanced each other out, and their friendship had become meaningful. A few months earlier, on a whim, they’d gotten matching butterfly tattoos, which made the people at the club mix them up even more. Everybody already thought they looked alike, though Mae and Joey couldn’t see it.

Lately, though, being mistaken for Mae had become a problem. Her boyfriend was part of the Blood Brothers, and Mae was now the club’s main dealer of illegal narcotics. She could get anything anyone asked for. Cocaine was most requested, as it kept the dancers going all night.

The first time Joey met Vinh—who went by Vinny—he was picking Mae up after work one night. She was surprised at how tiny he was, five four at most, his skinny body drowning in jeans and a sweatshirt three sizes too big for him. He looked like a teenager who played Nintendo all day, nothing like the gangster he was reputed to be. Mae’s voice fluctuated between pride and fear whenever she told Joey about the violent, crazy things Vinny had done to the people who crossed him and the gang. And apparently his older brother, a high-ranking member of the BB, was even worse.

More than a few times, Mae had come into work with bruises, and once, even a sprained wrist. When Joey expressed concern, her friend shrugged it off. “I hit him, too,” Mae said. “This is why body makeup was invented.” It didn’t matter how many times Joey encouraged Mae to break up with Vinny, her friend had to get there herself. And Joey was worried that if she didn’t get there quickly enough, he would kill her.

Yet Vinny was always polite. “Nice to see you, Joey,” he would say, and he and Mae would offer her a ride home in his souped-up Civic any night she wasn’t going home with Chaz.

“Girls,” a commanding voice said from the dressing room doorway.

Beside her, Dallas jumped, the coke vial disappearing into the palm of her hand. Joey didn’t have to look up to know that it was Cherry.

“Hey, Cherry.” Joey was applying a thin line of glue to her false eyelashes. “I’ll be ready on time.”

“After the stage, head up to VIP, okay?” Cherry was speaking to Joey, but her eyes were focused on Dallas. “Eight-person bachelor party requested the hot Asian chick they saw outside. Since Betty hasn’t shown up, that must be you.”

Joey looked up, waving the strip lash in her hand so the glue would turn tacky, which made it easier to stick on. “A bachelor party? On New Year’s Eve?”

“New Year’s Day wedding, tomorrow afternoon.” Cherry shrugged. “They don’t look like high rollers, but they’re trying to be. They asked about the Champagne Room.”

Champagne Room? Joey exchanged a look with Dallas. Two hours in the Champagne Room could earn a girl a thousand bucks, minimum.

“Do they need a blond cheerleader, too?” Dallas piped up, hopeful.

“No.” Cherry turned her attention to Joey fully. “Hey. You been in touch with Betty? This is the second shift in a row she’s blown off. I don’t want to fire her ass until I know she’s okay.”

“Aw, Cherry, don’t fire her,” Dallas said. “I know she’s a flake, but the customers love her.”

“Was I talking to you?” the owner snapped.

“I haven’t talked to her in a couple days,” Joey said. “But she has roommates who’d look after her if she was sick. I can check in on her tomorrow.”

Cherry’s gaze shifted back to the older dancer. “Dallas, that better be face powder on your nose. Finish getting ready, and get your ass out there.”

“It’s not just my ass they’re here to see,” Dallas replied smartly, but she wiped her nose and got up to stow her things in her locker. Before leaving the dressing room, she said, “For real, girl, I don’t know how you do this job without being on something.”