First Girl Gone(55)
She followed Will across the room to a table in the darkest corner, where they’d be able to watch from the shadows. A swiveling strobe light passed over them periodically, but other than that they were well hidden.
“This is weirdly like the cantina scene in Star Wars,” Allie said. “Except, you know, filthy.”
“And sort of pathetic,” Charlie said.
“You pass through these doors, and it’s like a different universe exists within these walls. Totally foreign to ours, bustling with strange life and customs.”
A waitress in a Red Velvet Lounge branded tank top and black booty shorts came over to take their mandatory drink order. Her top was slit down the front, revealing lots of cleavage and just a hint of black lace bra.
“Jim Beam, neat,” Will said.
The waitress turned her gaze on Charlie and smiled.
“What about you, hon?” Her voice was high-pitched and soft like a little girl.
“I’ll have the same,” she said.
The lights went down across the room, and there was a moment of quiet as the darkness caught everyone’s attention. A single spotlight flared on the stage, and out came a dancer with a snake draped over her shoulders—a python, if Charlie wasn’t mistaken. The men in the front row grew rowdier as she emerged. Hooting. Hollering.
The waitress returned with their drinks. Charlie sipped at her glass, dabbing at the droplet of watered-down bourbon that clung to her lip.
“So are you less nervous now that you see how ridiculous this place is?” Will asked.
“Well, yeah,” Charlie said.
She thought about launching into Allie’s Star Wars cantina observation but held her tongue. Allie hated when Charlie stole her material.
Just as quickly, Charlie’s mind snapped to the idea that Will had come here before. There was something disorienting about that—here he was making fun of it, conspiring with her as if they were both outsiders observing this strangeness, and yet the bouncer out front had recognized him.
She looked Will up and down, let her eyes scan the room again. She couldn’t picture it.
“You’re wondering if he’s more of a wing guy or a breast guy, right?” Allie said.
The image flashed in Charlie’s head of Will pulled up next to the buffet, loading fiery orange wings onto his plate, rapid-fire tapping the tongs excitedly between wings as though applauding with the kitchen tool. She cringed and took another drink.
“I’m curious about something,” Charlie said, waiting until she had Will’s full attention. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you said you come here, didn’t you? Like on a regular basis. You knew exactly what club I was talking about when I was still sort of grasping around for the place. Like no hesitation, you knew. Immediately.”
He laughed.
“Oh, I come here alright. Not on my free time, though.”
Charlie felt her brow crinkle.
“What does that mean?”
“It probably sounds weird, but it’s a work thing. Certain clients are more comfortable meeting in places like this, believe it or not.”
“Like who?”
He shrugged and took another sip. She’d thought about telling him the drinks were all the cheap stuff, but he’d surprised her by ordering Jim Beam in the first place—a fairly cheap, if well-regarded, bourbon.
“Oh, I represent all kinds of people,” he said. “Everyone from local ministers to factory workers to people like the owners of clubs like this one. Take a step back and think in general terms. Imagine, say, pro athletes, rock stars, that kind of thing. You can imagine Dennis Rodman or Gene Simmons wanting to meet in a strip club, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Well, a lot of guys in the business world are in a sort of equal state of arrested development, even if they wear a suit instead of face paint and piercings. Bottom line: everyone needs a lawyer at some point. It’s my job to accommodate all of them. In some cases, that means going into their worlds, into the places where they’re comfortable, and I don’t mind it a bit. You get to see all the different hues and tones when you go out among the people.”
Charlie glanced at the dancer, who was still gyrating onstage with the snake strung across her shoulders, though she’d lost some of her clothing along the way.
“And who are you to judge if the people you’re among just so happen to be half-nude and dry-humping a metal pole, right?” she said dryly.
Will shrugged.
“All of life is light and shadow, right? Well, I’d rather have more colors than fewer in my life. I know other people don’t see it that way, and that’s fine, too.”
He tipped his head back and finished off his bourbon before he went on.
“It strikes me that a lot of us live in a sort of echo chamber these days. We surround ourselves with people who agree with us on everything— politics, art, entertainment. A lot of people might say a place like this is offensive on multiple levels, and I might even agree on some points. But who am I to impose my ideals on someone else? And what a boring, monotonous world it would be if I could.”
Charlie eyeballed Will as he waved over their waitress and ordered another drink. His answer made sense. There were even qualities in it she found charming, and yet… well, Will had always been good with words. Had he merely found a way to make frequenting a strip club sound like some noble cause? Maybe he’d told a partial truth, concealed the ugly parts and played up the pretty ones.