Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(34)
CHARLOTTE
“I got no respect for a man who won't hit back. You kill my dog, you better hide your cat.”
MUHAMMAD ALI, THE GREATEST: MY OWN STORY
Since I now had the information needed to untangle the club’s finances and set it on the right path moving forward, I needed to turn my attention back to the actual reason I worked at The Pony: befriending the dancers and finding Heather.
Not wanting to ask Hank for insight—the less we interacted moving forward the better, lest my crush reassert itself—I asked Dave for advice Wednesday night as he walked me to my car. Or rather, I suppose it was super early Thursday morning.
“If I wanted to bring in some food tomorrow for the dancers and staff, a special treat to thank them for their warm welcome, what should I bring? Muffins from the Donner Bakery at the Lodge? Or cream puffs? Or what?”
“Eh.” He tilted his head back and forth. “I wouldn’t bring in baked goods. Serafina, the chef, gets weird about that kind of stuff. And some of the ladies—the dancers—are always talking about their bodies and dieting. But what about a big fancy fruit tray?”
“Oh! I can do that myself.” We reached my car and I pulled out my key fob to unlock the door.
“With, like, a healthy dip and less healthy dip.” Dave reached around me and opened my door. “Do sugar-free peanut butter on one side and Nutella on the other. That way your bases are covered.”
“Hmm. What if one of them has a nut allergy?” Peanut butter was contraband at the kids’ school, and for good reason. “I’ll bring in the nut dips and keep them covered and put out an allergy-safe dip, then ask if anyone has an allergy, and if not, put out the other dips. And I’ll hold back the strawberries, too. Thanks, Dave.” I smiled at the bouncer.
He returned my smile, hesitated for a moment, then said, “You have the most beautiful smile, Charlotte. I hope it’s okay for me to say so.”
I pressed my lips together but was unable to hide the pleasure his words gave me. Dave hadn’t asked me out again. He’d been nothing but professional and friendly since my first day. I didn’t mistake this sweet talk now for a renewal of his interest. It was clear that Dave was simply a good person paying me a kind compliment.
“It is perfectly fine for you to say, but thanks for checking. And I think you’ve got a beautiful smile, too. Thanks for giving it to me so often.”
His smile widened and he stepped back. “Anytime. Drive safe.”
Now I hesitated, a sudden question nagging at me. “Dave, may I ask—and please let me know if this is overstepping—why haven’t you asked out one of the dancers? They all seem so lovely and sweet.”
“Oh, they are, for the most part. But Hank has a strict no-fraternization policy with all the dancers. None of the staff can date them, and they can’t date each other. Tina told me two dancers kissed backstage a few years ago after flirting for a few weeks and Hank ended their work agreements”—Dave snapped his fingers—“just like that.”
I crossed my arms. “For kissing? That’s harsh.”
“I don’t know. Hank, he . . . well, he knows the business.” Dave’s eyes moved between mine, calculating. “Hey. Did you know he’s one of them?”
I blinked, about to ask One of who? but then a jolt of understanding hit me like a lightning strike. “Hank was a stripper? I mean, a dancer? Hank was an exotic dancer?”
“Was and is.” Dave appeared delighted by my reaction. “We get both bachelorette parties and bachelor parties that want an all-male show, or a mix of both. Tina says it’s mostly in the fall, but there’s a few sprinkled throughout the rest of the year. I’ve only seen two so far. But Hank’s got this—this team of five dudes plus him for those events.”
I don’t know why, but I felt like laughing. I was floored.
“You look surprised.” He said this with a twinkle in his eye. “And a little disturbed.”
“I am surprised.” Without looking, I let my purse fall to the seat behind me and then propped my hand on the open door. “Can I ask, did he start stripping when he bought the club? Or . . .?”
“Tina said he stripped in college as soon as he turned eighteen. Some sort of super ritzy, exclusive gentlemen’s club or high-class strip joint up in Boston. They supposedly catered to all tastes, kinks, and spectrums of sexuality.”
“Well, okay then.” My heart spasmed and the air in my lungs turned hot. My brain didn’t know how to process this information, and the resultant emotions were an incoherent mixture of sad, curious, alarmed, and . . . enchanted? Why the heck was I enchanted?
“Yeah. Anyway. I only tell you because the man has walked the walk, and—”
“And swung on the pole?” The quip emerged before I could stop it.
Dave laughed. Then he rolled his lips between his teeth. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed at that.”
“No. I shouldn’t have said it. Sorry. I’m shocked.” I continued pondering Hank and the club and everything I knew about both, and a new question occurred to me. “Hey, if there’s sometimes male dancers here, do they all use the same dressing room?”
The process for accessing the dressing room had been explained to me last weekend. It was always locked from the inside and weighted to close automatically unless you put something on the floor to prop it open—which was forbidden. To enter, you had to ring the tiny doorbell and wait for someone to let you in. Unless you were a dancer. If you were a dancer, you knocked to announce yourself and then used your key.