Experiment in Terror 03 Dead Sky Morning (11 page)

“You need to relax a bit, kiddo,” he said. “Enjoy it. Enjoy the naked ladies and the pervy weirdos and the free booze.”

“I’m sitting with a pervy weirdo.”

“So you should be used to it. And you know what? I need to relax too. This place helps. You just feel things. No need for thoughts here.”

“Except perverted thoughts.”

“That’s not really thinking. That’s instinct.”

He waved over the waitress, this time a different one dressed in a simple black dress. Her hair was cut short, which showed off her cute, minxy face and pouty lips.

“Two more Jack and Coke doubles, sweetheart,” he said to her. He was sleazy about it, which would have bothered me, but I detected that level of amusement that always sat beneath Dex’s surface. In the end, everything was still a bit of a joke.

The waitress eyed me up and down. I had already taken off the Canucks jersey and was just wearing my black top from underneath. “This your girlfriend? She’s cute.”

I fidgeted while Dex said, “She is cute, isn’t she.”

I blushed at what Dex said (and at the fact that he didn’t correct her – it’s the little things). She eyed me again and came in closer to me, smelling like overtly flowery body lotion. “Honey, with your eyes and those breasts, you should be up there too.” And like that, she left, leaving Dex and I saddled with that comment.

My cheeks grew hot, hotter than they had been all night, and I gave Dex an incredulous look.

“Guess it doesn’t matter what sex you are,” I squeaked.

“Don’t be so modest,” he said, turning his attention back to the next dancer, a black girl with a butt that rivaled mine. Maybe I could be a stripper…if I lost a million pounds and wore 10–inch heels.

“I’m not modest…” I trailed off. I really didn’t need to get into it. Once again the booze was just begging for me to open up like a book.

“You know, kiddo…you’re way better than any of these women,” he said seriously, his eyes still on the stage. “You just need some confidence.”

That I knew. And I was getting better. But confidence didn’t come out of nowhere.

“You’ve got a beautiful face,” he continued, his voice a register lower. The roughness of it made the hairs on my arms stand up. “Gorgeous eyes. I mean I’ve rarely seen eyes like yours. Fuck. It’s like looking out at the ocean, trying to read it as the weather’s changing. Perfect lips. The most adorable freckles and the tiniest little nose. You’re like a sexy…bunny.”

I was so confused. Dex was laying on the compliments like I’ve never heard him do before, all the while watching a naked chick gyrate on a pole. The absurdity levels were overflowing tonight.

I didn’t know what to say…did he just say I was gorgeous? Did he just compare me to a rabbit? But he ended up turning his face to meet mine, looking surprised at my dumb expression.

“Speechless? That’s a start.”

At that, the waitress came by and plunked our drinks down. Dex slipped her $25 bucks with a wink. In turn, she winked at me and sauntered off.

“Has no one ever complimented you before?” he asked honestly, once she had left. He pushed my drink into my hands even though I wasn’t done with the other one.

I shook my head. I mean, I’ve heard I was cute. And I knew I wasn’t as bad as my ego wanted me to believe. When I called myself fat, I knew I wasn’t actually fat anymore (though I definitely was back in the day), I just knew I was miles from perfect. And if I wasn’t perfect, like Jenn, like these girls stripping, like the women on TV, then what was the point? I might as well give up.

He was watching me closely. I focused my eyes on his.

“Can you see the ocean now?” I challenged.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “You don’t believe me. But you want to. You still think you’re fat. Or something. You think those fucktards on the internet are on to something.”

That actually is what I was about to think next. His insightfulness was crazy. Was I really that easy to read?

“I really hate you sometimes,” I blurted out.

He shrugged. “I don’t blame you. I hate myself too sometimes. Often. Look, I brought my partner to a strip club while on assignment, and not a very good strip club at that. We might as well be at Hooters. I guess I am just a pervert with rapist facial hair.”

“Well, you’re my kind of pervert,” I said. And then immediately regretted it. You’re my kind of pervert? What the hell was that? So, I covered it up with, “And I probably don’t need this drink.”

“Yeah you do. So do I.” He downed his drink and moved on to the next one. He stared down at the fizzy bubbles for a beat, taking in a deep breath.

“Honestly kiddo? You’re beautiful. You use your weight as an excuse but you’re just all woman. Not every woman has to look like a stripper. Or a model. Or Megan Fox. You’re petite, have a tiny waist, a fantastic rack, a devastating ass…what the hell more do you want? You should know it. Everyone else knows it…that’s why you’re getting all these asinine comments. Can’t you just see that it’s just jealously that’s ripping these people apart?”

I swallowed hard, my cheeks still burning, my heart pounding hard against my ribcage. I felt tingly, dizzy, awkward. The man I loved just told me how beautiful I was. I could barely explain it. How could he just say these things to me? Didn’t he know?

“And now I’ve embarrassed you. Which was my plan.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “So you didn’t mean any of that?”

He grinned at me. His eyes looked a bit sloppy. He was feeling the bourbon as well.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, slapping the table with his palm and heading off towards what I assumed were the bathrooms. Probably to jerk off. Though at this point, I wasn’t exactly sure who he would be jerking off about. I could pretty much guarantee it wasn’t Jenn for once. I’d be lying if I didn’t have a sick, twisted little thrill about that. That was fantasy fodder for later.

I sat back in the booth and carefully sipped my new drink. It was much stronger than the other one. Bartender probably poured me a triple. I didn’t drink all that often and tonight I think I drank more than I had all year. But I did feel relaxed…despite everything that had been going on. Despite the comments and my parents and Creepy Clown Lady telling me people would be coming to take me away…

OK, I probably shouldn’t have thought of that last one. Suddenly her face was all I saw. I shut my eyes hard, hoping to will it away, hoping her disembodied, foreign voice wouldn’t infiltrate my senses and barge into a place I had protected. I was at a strip club with Dex. That alone was enough for me to focus on.

When I opened my eyes again I was shocked to see a woman standing in front of me. But it wasn’t Creepy Clown Lady – far from it. It was Marla, the redhaired ravisher. She was clothed again, this time in tight club gear. She smiled at me with perfect teeth, which had me calculating how much they would have cost and how much she made a night.

I stared at her teeth for so long that she stepped forward and put her hand on the table, leaning forward.

“So, how about this?” she purred, her voice somewhere between cat and lion.

“Uhhh,” I stuttered, not sure what she meant.

“It’s your call. Want to do it here?”

“What?”

“Your boyfriend bought me, silly. For you.”

I looked over her shoulder and saw Dex slowly making his way over, another drink in his hand. He stopped a yard away, leaned against the wall and just watched us. It was…weird. Unnerving. Perverted.

I gave the girl, Marla, an innocent look. “I don’t think he meant to buy you…least not for me.”

She chuckled, rich and throaty. “It’s just a lap dance, sweetie.”

She grabbed my arms and pulled me out so I was sitting at the edge of the booth. And she started moving, slowly, up and down like a silk–skinned snake. Ironically it was to a song called “Stripsearch.”

I wanted to laugh. Badly. But I kept it in and watched it all unfold. After all, I didn’t have to do anything. I just had to sit and watch.

Marla had some smooth moves (and smooth skin) with some intense eye contact action. It was enough that I had to look away half the time, especially when her clothes started coming off. Was that even part of the lap dance? Or did the rules not count because I was a girl?

I brought my eyes over to Dex, who still stood behind Marla, watching the whole thing go down with a strange look on his face. It was conflicted. Maybe he wasn’t sure what he should be staring at. His quivering nervous partner or the quivering naked Marla with the excellent taste in music?

He took a few steps forward and finally met my own eyes. He was chewing away on his lip, ignoring the underwear that she just discarded on the floor, ignoring the fact that she was stroking my knees and bending over in front of him.

I don’t think I ever felt so awkward in my life. Keeping my attention on Dex instead of Marla was only helping marginally. Both felt off.

There’s something wrong with him.

The thought flashed through my brain, distracting me from Marla’s buoyant bosom that was waving in my face. She noticed this look. She reached for my head and slipped her hands into my hair. She brought her lips up to mine and I thought she was going to kiss me. All I could think about was how her red lipstick was going to make a mess of my face.

But she just whispered, “Relax. This is really all for him. He wants to see you loosen up. Enjoy it.” She pulled away and winked at me.

She danced for a few beats more to the driving guitar at the end of the tune. And then the song was over. She picked up a robe that had come from out of nowhere and walked past Dex without any acknowledgement. He followed her walk with his leering eyes. Then came back to the booth and plopped down in his seat.

I stared at him, not amused. I know Dex was just being like any other guy, getting off on the idea of two chicks getting it on, or something close to that. But there was something off about him tonight. When I thought there was something wrong with him, there was a reason. He was being strange; I could see it in his eyes when he didn’t know I was looking. I wondered if it had anything to do with the phone call from earlier.

Then another thought flashed through my head. One that made me perk up a bit and then feel guilty for doing so. What if Jenn broke up with him? Or visa versa? What if Dex was a single man now? I mean, the strip club is usually the first place they go after a breakup…

“What?” he asked lazily.

“Nothing,” I said. I pulled out my phone and looked at the time. It was getting late and we did have a ferry to catch in the morning. I could do well on little sleep, but not when combined with a hangover.

“You want to go?”

I nodded. “I had fun though.” I didn’t want him to think I was ungrateful. It was my own idea that we hang out outside of work…although I didn’t in a million years expect that we’d go to a hockey game and a strip club in another country. “Obviously you had more fun than me. Though you weren’t in the bathroom all that long.”

I expected him to laugh at that or protest. He was watching me closely instead. I took my sight off him and watched the stripper on the stage. I didn’t want him to read me anymore. It didn’t seem fair.

“I hope you remember what I’ve said,” he said earnestly. He finished the rest of his drink in a few gulps, got out of his seat and walked around to my end. He held out his hand for me.

“Everytime I think of strip clubs, I will think of you,” I joked, taking his hand and letting him pull me up.

He pulled me up so I was right up into his chest. I was expecting him to take a step back but he didn’t. I could feel the bottom of his scruffy chin grazing the top of my head. He put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me back just enough to get a better look at me.

“I hope next time you feel – well, retarded – about yourself, you’ll remember that I think you’re…”

I looked up into his eyes. They were drunk, yes, but still absolutely mesmerizing.

He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead he said, “Sorry I licked your face.”

He turned and started to make his way out of the club. I followed in a hurry, feeling the eyes of the patrons and waitresses staring at me. We must have seemed like quite an odd pair.

We went back to the hotel but I didn’t fall asleep for at least two hours. My mind kept going over the events of the night. Creepy Clown Lady was a definite cause for alarm (or panic, or madness) but it was Dex’s words that kept resonating throughout, digging deeper at my heart and causing it to flutter with random palpitations. Did he really mean what he said? And if he did…what were we doing? I didn’t want him to go back to his hotel room, I wanted him in this big empty bed, beside me. I wanted to put more dirty and obscene thoughts in his head. I wanted to
feel
that he wanted me, not to just hear it.

Did I see a glimpse of the real Dex tonight? Or was that someone else, just a mask to cover up what was really going on, what he really wanted to hide.

I didn’t even think about checking my phone once.

CHAPTER SIX

“Oh, by the way, if Jimmy asks about those porn charges, just say it was you,” Dex said with a sly grin while sticking a cigarette in his mouth.