Page 64 of Insidious Heart
“You talk to anyone?”
I look at Beau from the corner of my eye, my father’s stare fixed on the girl dancing on the pole in front of him, my stomach churning from how into this he is.
That’s nothing new. I know Beau loves strip clubs and anything like them, but I’ve never had to sit next to him while he was watching.
I’ve picked him up from both clubs in Rolling Meadows, even had to make a few runs outside of town when he decided to venture into new ones, but that was always a quick trip while my father was so shitfaced he had no idea he even called me instead of someone else in the Seeds. And at that point he was so far gone you wouldn’t know he was coherent while he watched the dancers let alone enjoyed it, but right now? Unfortunately, Beau Williams isn’t quite there yet, and the fact he keeps grabbing his crotch and leaning toward the catwalk while scolding me is making me sick to my stomach.
“You gonna answer me, or do I need to make you?” My father spares me a glance, one that has fear racing down my spine, then turns back to the blonde ballerina in front of us. “Don’t think I won’t just ‘cause we’re on enemy turf.”
“I…” I swallow thickly and pray the bile stays in my stomach while I debate on how much truth to share. “I talked to the bartender.”
“The fat punk bitch?”
I wince at that, even though I’d love to argue with Beau and call him an asshole for insulting one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. Ember is curvy and beautiful, she’s edgy and fun. And she is definitely not a bitch but I’m sure she can get pretty scary when she needs to. Either way, Ember does not deserve to be talked about like that and it just makes my stomach hurt even more because I’m too spineless to stand up for her.
“She was the only one I talked to.”For a while.
My father adjusts himself in his seat, leaning even closer to the stage as the girl loses her g-string and pops her butt at him. “You sure ‘bout that? Cal said something ‘bout you talking to a few guys from the Kings.”
I turn my head as the girl crouches into a rather impressive bridge, her naked vag directly pointed at us.
The dancer is really pretty and she’s very talented, probably even classically trained in ballet, and while I won’t ever judge anyone for their preferences or anything else, vagina in the face right now just isn’t for me. Especially in the middle of a strip club packed full of dangerous men while sitting right next to my father who can’t be bothered to hide how much vag in the faceisfor him.
Ember was right, though.
The Dollhouse is nothing like any of the clubs I’ve had to drag my dad out of, and the girls here look so different from the ones I’ve seen there. And they really are talented.
Before the ballerina there was a dancer who came out like a hardcore dominatrix. I’m talking spiked boots, whips, and chains. She even had a mask on and walked out with another dancer who was wearing a latex suit and leash. While I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from that performance, I found myself really paying attention to it. And as it continued, I realized they were telling a story, one I thought I somehow recognized to be honest, so I asked Ember and she confirmed. They were acting out their take onThe Wizard of Oz.I have no idea how I made the connection, but after a few minutes and some questions I felt stupid for asking, I got my confirmation.
Ember and I chatted a little after that, my new friend explaining how the girls come up with their own gimmick and performance; how they like to make it theatrical instead of just dancing to the music, and she also said that’s a big part of why there is absolutely no touching the talent at the club. It’s not abutcher shop where they can grope the meatas Ember put it, this is performance art with real entertainers and just because they get completely naked—mostly, but not all the girls do anymore, I guess—doesn’t mean they should be treated otherwise.
I really liked that.
I like that these girls are valued and appreciated,protected.
They aren’t treated like property just because they chose a different lifestyle, and it has me thinking that if the Kings go to this much trouble for their employees, I bet their old ladies and families are treated like gold and then some.
“Stevie!” My father snapping in my ear has me jumping in my seat and facing him again. “I asked you a fucking question,again, and your dumbass is either having a hard time comprehending it, or you’re a fucking lesbian piece of shit and this little ballet bimbo is doing it for ya.”
I shake my head and bite my tongue because oh my god this man is seriously the worst.
Not that I didn’t already know that. His treatment of women, or people in general, isn’t some mystery to me, but to see him in action like this is a real eye opener. I can now addhomophobeandbody shamerto the already extensive list of things that make Beau Williams a bastard. And let me tell you,drove my mother to commit suicideandbeats me unconsciouswere enough on their own but somehowdear old dadnever ceases to amaze.
But he’s staring daggers at me, those sickly brown and yellow eyes narrowed on half of my face, waiting for a response.
So, I give him one. “I… I talked to a couple of guys that had Kings colors on their cuts.” Beau’s jaw clenches and I can see him grinding his teeth through his scraggly beard. “We didn’t exactly talk, not really, but Ember introduced them to me when they came up to tell her to send the dancers out.”
My father stares at me for a beat, a look of rage passing over his features that guarantees that lecture he mentioned earlier will definitely happen, and it will most likely be worse than the one he originally planned, and just when he opens his mouth to speak, Cal stops next to Beau and leans to whisper something in his ear.
Crisis momentarily averted.
I discreetly blow out a breath and turn back to the stage in time to see another dancer come out, one dressed in a full steampunk costume, and as her entrance music starts pumping through the speakers, something else off the edge of the stage catches my eye.
There, in the shadows, relatively hidden, is my ghost.
And Victor istwerkingand shaking his ass against Pope while he has what seems to be a serious conversation with another man I haven’t seen before. A man that looks a lot like an older, kind of attractive grizzly bear.
I wonder who that is.
