I checked the northern part of the club. Sugar guided a chubby guy to the back and disappeared among the green crystal curtain. There, she would provide a private show for a hundred dollars.
The DJ shifted the song to one that was upbeat. “Now entering the stage, the hot and beautiful. . .Honey!”
No one clapped, but a few sat up in their seats.
Honey strolled up the steps to perform her third round of dancing for the evening. A few guys walked over and tossed her a dollar, before she even stepped on.
Honey had been at the club for six months now. I wondered how long she would remain. Many of the girls didn’t strip here for longer than a year. Most made some quick money and pursued something else. Many headed off to college. The ones that stayed in this place usually ended up with a habit, eventually they left the club and moved to one of the nearest cities like Seattle or Portland to make extra money.
Titty Palace stood on the outskirts of Southwest Washington. It was near a small town called Tenino. Not many people lived in the area. The population consisted of farmers, retired folk, and hippies yearning to live off-the-grid and as far as they could from civilization. The rest were like me—men and women running from something. People who just wanted to be left alone with their torrid past and haunting problems. Recluse. Loners. Outsiders by choice.
I took a sip of the tea as Honey twirled her hips to the music.
More men rose from their seats and brought over bills.
So far, she was the top earner of the month. While she hadn’t made the money I did in my old days with the mob in Chicago, she’d earned enough to buy a new car and move into the small rental unit in my neighbor’s back yard.
But to call him a neighbor was a stretch. Everyone lived on at least eighty acres, guaranteeing privacy, massive room for gardens, and even grazing ability for livestock. Many had cows, rabbits, chickens, and hogs. I just owned two big Huskies that had stumbled onto my property as puppies one night.
Regardless, Honey moved near me—too close for my liking. I was sure it wasn’t intentional.
However, a few mornings she had walked onto my property, came right up to my front door, and knocked. I never answered. If I’d wanted company, I would’ve lived closer to the city. And I’d never found out what she wanted. If I cared, I would’ve opened the door.
On the stage, she watched me. Her body moved perfectly to the rhythm of the rock song blasting from the speakers. A man sat on the stool in front of the stage and waved a twenty dollar bill her way.
She would get to him soon, but for now she kept her attention on me.
I sipped my tea, enjoying the Chai blend.
Honey raised her hands to her top and began to slip it away.
That was the moment, I turned back around and signaled for Strawberry.
She hurried over and rolled her eyes. “You want another Chai?”
“No. Close me out.”
Strawberry frowned. “You’re ridiculous. You’ve only been here for an hour.”
“That’s long enough.” I rose and grabbed my trench coat.
“Stay a little longer, Yoshiro.”
“I’m bored.” I put the trench on.
“With the titties? How can you be bored?”
“Keep the change.” I dropped a twenty on the bar, waved goodbye, and headed away. There was no need to glance back at the stage. I could feel Honey watching me.
Leave it alone, sweetheart.
The new girls always wanted to test me. I never understood why. There were enough men in the club to garner all of their attention. Why focus on the one man that’s looking to be left alone?
I approached the door.
Two men emerged.
They’d barreled past the Titty Palace’s big bouncer, Kevin—who happened to be my only friend. Tall, chubby, and white, Harold thought Kevin would be perfect for the job. Not much ethnic people came around, and Kevin’s big frame gave off the impression that he could do damage. Unfortunately, appearances tended to be deceiving.
I looked at Kevin and gave him the unanswered question I always did.
You need my help?
With a grim expression, Kevin shrugged.
I waited to assess the situation.
I’d never seen the men before. They had a different attire than the regulars. Around here, men wore hiking boots, jeans, a thick flannel shirt, and jacket. These two had on expensive suits and polished leather shoes. It was pretty stupid to wear on a snowy evening around here, where there was more mud than pavement. One was tall, reaching my height of 6’2. The other was short with a long beard. They had that worn down look on their faces that working for over a decade brought. Due to that, both must’ve been around my age—mid-thirties.