Ameera, Unveiled (36 page)

“Okay, let’s let the birthday girl finish her dinner,” the pimp called off a playful couple. He slid over to Jennifer and gave her a kiss on the cheek before returning to his group. He blew his whistle and off they went to scout for more chests to pin.

Lara slid back beside Jennifer. “What the hell was that?” she asked, poking around her plate for foreign objects. “That woman crawled over me in that tiny dress—with no underwear.”

“You got out of view while I had to remain in beaver land,” Jennifer said. We burst into laughter. Jennifer looked at her plate as if someone had violated it. She pushed it away.

“What happened?” Sybil asked Jennifer across the room.

“Did anyone see ménage à trois on the menu?” Denise asked, grinning.

The waitress entered the room with a lit birthday cake and placed it in front of Jennifer. Two serving assistants carried champagne and glasses.

Sybil stood to sing and we all joined in. Glasses were passed around a table full of bubbling champagne. The waitress handed Jennifer a knife to cut her cake.

While Jennifer served cake, Kelly stood and raised her champagne glass. “I think a toast is in order for a day of surprises.” We all gave her our attention and reached for our glasses. “First, happy Hedo birthday, Jennifer. Second, Lara’s here—woo-hoo!” Lara stood and gave a queenly wave. “But I also think we need to toast Sybil for getting us our first show!” We all clinked and zaghareeted. Kelly sat down.

Denise stood and said, “There may be one more toast.” She paused and looked around the room, creating a mysterious air. “I think we should toast Kelly’s marriage . . .” there was a pause, “and her divorce.” We all cheered.

After dinner, we all quickly changed. I slipped into white stretchy pants and paired them with a fringed tank top in gold and chartreuse. I carried my kitty Mardi Gras mask.

Polly sported a sexy black dress and heels. Her mask was black velvet with pearls accenting black feathers on the right corner. “You picked an appropriate costume,” she said to me.

“Call me, Kat—Kitty Kat!” I said, imitating a line from
Wedding Crashers
. We giggled as we entered the dining room.

Sybil waved to make sure we saw our table. I checked out everyone’s costumes.

“Look at you two,” Sybil asked. “Did you and Melody plan to be cats?” She was wearing a black spaghetti-strap dress and a simple feather mask.

“No,” I said. “And we didn’t know we’d bought the same color glitter-dot material for our togas at the same store, cut by the same employee.”

Denise and Kelly entered and headed straight to the bar.

“Kelly said she wanted to be a blue butterfly and, by George, there she is,” Polly said.

Kelly wore butterfly wings in lieu of a mask.

“Denise looks sexy and very Carnivale in that red corset and black mask,” Sybil remarked.

“Where’s Ruth?” I asked.

“Getting ready,” Sybil said, smirking. “Should be here soon.”

As we chattered about dinner, we turned and noticed a white fairy and a black fairy Forte entering the main room. As they joined the table, I saw a woman walking toward us in wedges and a slutty sausage dress. I looked twice as she headed toward us with beer in hand.

“Ruth?” Jennifer asked. We all looked at her from head to toe.

“I hope you plan to report in with the Hedo police and get Monday’s ticket dismissed,” Kelly advised.

“Has anyone else had Sybil send you one of her ‘prizes’ when she cleaned out a closet?” Ruth asked. Most nodded affirmatively. As a newbie, I’d yet to be given Sybil’s discards.

“I got this in the mail a year or so ago,” Ruth said. “Never knew what to do with it. Figured Jamaica was a good fit.”

“Oh my God,” Jennifer said to Ruth. “You look amazing.”

Ruth wasn’t only poured into her dress; she’d done an excellent job on hair and makeup. I felt a twinge of jealousy at her slim body’s ability to flatter a very tacky, tight-fitting dress.

“Let’s move outside to watch the characters go by,” Kelly said. “Anybody wanna dance in the disco and play on the pole?” Lara raised her hand and pulled Jennifer’s into the air.

“I’m dragging two kitty cats there,” Polly said.

“We need to show Ruth off and get her Hedo ticket dismissed,” Sybil said.

“So we’ve got two naughty fairies, a slut, two madams in corsets, a blue butterfly, and two pussies?” Denise said. “Sounds like a Hedo Christmas song.”

We walked the property for an hour, helping Lara learn locations of interest. We even sneaked over to the Nude pool. As we got closer to the piano bar, we heard bad singing.

“Karaoke!” Lara exclaimed, accelerating her pace to the piano bar.

“She’s really good,” Denise confided to me. Sybil and Jennifer nodded and kept up the pace.

By the time I’d caught up, Lara was flipping through a songbook and deciding on what to sing. Her black fairy costume would keep their attention. The cups on her black leather bra were flames licking her voluptuous breasts. She’d paired the bra with a black pleather miniskirt and black ankle boots. She walked up to the DJ to hand him a paper with a number on it.

We’d found a corner to sit in and waited for the show. The current contestant struggled with a song.

“Don’t you find it odd to watch someone tipsy in drag sing ‘Me and Bobby McGee’?” I asked. “It’s hard enough to sing sober.”

Denise and Kelly nodded.

“Speaking of performing, you excited about tomorrow’s show?” Jennifer asked. She was adjusting her white fairy mask. Melody broke into a big smile as Kelly jumped up and down like a cheerleader. I gave a polite smile.

“Lara, I think the DJ’s pointing at you.”

“Wow, that was fast,” she said. She walked toward the stage, chatted briefly with the DJ, and took the mic he handed her. Several hoots were thrown her way as she prepared to perform. She nodded and the DJ started her song: Pat Benatar’s “Hit Me with Your Best Shot.”

I sat stunned as she belted it out as well as Pat would’ve performed it (in my opinion). The crowd awoke and joined in. Lara worked the stage as she sang, engaging with her new Hedo fans.
If only I could muster half her stage
savvy
, I thought. The song wound down as the crowd cheered.

“Thanks, everybody,” Lara said, bowing slightly. “Don’t forget, belly dance classes tomorrow at 1:30 p.m. at the fitness center.” She returned the mic and strutted back to our corner.

“Lara sings the national anthem when we perform at a fair or military appearances,” Kelly informed me.

The layers of talent and personality just kept unfolding.
What’s her story
? I asked myself.

“Let’s go play on the disco pole,” Lara said, apparently energized after her performance.

“I’m done,” Polly said. “As much as I love to dance, I’m going back to my room.”

“Me too,” Sybil said. “I’ll walk with you. Happy birthday, Jennifer.”

“Coming with us, Kat?” Kelly asked.

“Sure. I wouldn’t miss Lara’s first impression of the disco.”

Jazz smiled at us as we descended to the entrance door. “Heard it was your birthday. Hope you’re enjoying it here at Hedonism,” he said to Jennifer while he looked at Lara.

“I’ve had a fabulous birthday,” Jennifer said. “This is my sister, Lara.”

Lara put her hand out to shake, but Jazz lifted it and kissed it. “You’re as beautiful as your sister. You’re all goodaz!”

“Nice to meet you.” Lara grinned. We followed her into the disco. Lara looked at the wall behind the bar. “That’s where you’ve been practicing every morning?” she asked. “That’s a nice-size floor.”

“Yeah . . . well . . . tell us what you think in the morning,” Jennifer said.

Two naughty fairies, two pussies, a blue butterfly, and a madam in a corset entered the disco and danced till midnight.

28

We had to put together a thirty-minute show and run through the lineup the next morning. The pit of my stomach tightened, but I looked at who was circling me in Jamaica. We were all here now, and I was happy that Melody could tell her husband about a show. I tried not to think about what the rest of “having a show” meant for me.

“Ladies, we’ve got a show to learn,” Sybil asked. “Jennifer—lineup?”

Jennifer nodded as she tied her hip scarf. “What’cha think, Lara?”

Lara checked out the nooks and crannies. She stood under the Plexiglas floor of the Jacuzzi. “I can see people sitting there.”

“They’re up there too.” Jennifer pointed at a window near the bridge. She grabbed a piece of paper and stood beside Sybil. “I’ve roughed out something. See if it works. Patty’s dance, Ruth’s cane, the Forte Wing duet, Gypsy quartet, Ruth’s Spanish fan solo, and Lara’s dance?”

“Anyone see a costume-change problem?” Sybil asked as she took the list and studied it. “When’re we doing the zaghareet lesson?”

I stood next to Kelly. “Is there enough time to get into gypsy costumes in two songs?”

Denise overheard my Nervous Nellie voice, so she placed her hand softly on my back and smiled. “It’ll be fine,” she said. “We can help each other if someone gets done first.”

“I think getting back into cabaret may be more challenging,” Kelly said. “Pick an easy costume. Why don’t we do the zaghareet lesson at the beginning?”

For ten more humid minutes, we noted CD tracks beside the lineup and put each other in charge of pushing buttons. We agreed to run through the show twice.

“Let’s go, ladies,” Sybil shouted. The room divided and everyone assumed their spots. Ruth pushed the button on the CD player. As we ran through the number, I surprised myself with how much I knew without a lot of mental checking.

“Let’s keep it rolling like the real show,” Jennifer said, pushing us. “Move from song to song, dance to dance.”

Lara ran to the CD player and searched for the track on Jennifer’s lineup sheet. I scurried to the bleachers and practiced getting into Gypsy, although it wasn’t a full dress rehearsal. Three minutes later, I was tying the last hip scarf over my gypsy skirt, noting that I had two skirts and jewelry to add. Jennifer and Lara wound down in the wing number I’d seen at The Maproom. I wasn’t panicking . . . yet.

Ruth started the Muerte music—Gypsy land to us. I pranced offstage and prepared for my final number in Lara’s “Pathway to Goa.” Ruth’s was a split solo that depended on the music director to flip between tracks. We got it but prayed Grand Lido would too. It allowed us to change into cabaret for the final number.

After Ruth morphed from Spanish fan to flamenco veil, we used the pause to start Lara’s “Pathway to Goa.” I assumed my place between Lara and Jennifer. I felt a twinge of confidence as the drums started. In a little more than four minutes, we took our final pose as Ruth cut the music.

“Okay, ladies,” Sybil said. “Breakfast then meet you on the beach.” She and Ruth buzzed out of the disco, carrying the CD player.

Lara grabbed paper towels from our secret stash. “Damn, it’s hot in here. You guys have been doing this all week?”

We left the stale, sticky air to inhale the salty sea breeze from the bay. “I like the lineup, Jennifer,” Denise said. “Using Ruth’s solo buys us time to change.”

“So how was Jenn’s flight?” Lara asked, stabbing her fruit. Her Mimosa flute sweated as much as we had in the disco.

“I took a tranquilizer and had a couple of drinks,” Jennifer confessed. “And we didn’t have turbulence.”

Lara rolled her eyes. I sensed a story, stared, and gave a confused-puppy look. “Does Jennifer not fly well?” I asked.

Several of the girls looked at Jennifer and broke into laughter. Jennifer put her napkin in front of her face to hide as she choked on her bagel. Lara looked at me and took a big swig of her Mimosa.

“After we graduated high school, our parents sent us on a cruise,” she explained. “We flew from New York to Miami. She’d never flown before and was really scared. The minute she buckled her seat belt, she started belting the vodka she had in her purse.”

“Can’t do that since 9/11!” Jennifer added, as if she were mourning a lost relative.

“Halfway through the trip,” Lara continued, “we hit turbulence. She jumped out of her seat and started waving her arms. She looked like the robot on
Lost in Space
. She yelled, at the top of her lungs, ‘We’re gonna die!’, several times.”