sweeping gesture with his arm. “Do come in, my dear. You are looking lovely as always.”
“Oh, Merle,” Bernice said. “You’re such a charmer.” She handed him a stack of bills and took a seat in the room’s only wing chair, bending over to unbuckle her shoes.
Merle handed the stack to me and introduced us. “Bernice, this is the new bookkeeper, Sara. Sara, this beautiful creature is Bernice LaBerge, the pride and joy of Guys and Dolls.”
Bernice and I had already met, but Merle didn’t know that.
“Nice to meet you, Bernice,” I said. “I noticed you had a crowd of admirers out there.”
“My fans are quite loyal. They’ve been coming to see me for years.”
How many years? I wanted to ask.
She pulled off one shoe before setting to work on the other. “Of course, my fans were far more generous before they went on Social Security.”
She and Merle shared a laugh.
Merle pulled his rolling chair over in front of Bernice. Once she’d freed her other foot from the stiletto, she raised her feet and placed them in Merle’s lap. He immediately set to work giving her a foot rub.
Bernice leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Aah. That’s the ticket, Merle. That’s the ticket.”
I counted the cash Bernice had handed me, wondering if Donald Geils was watching me through the security camera. Sixty-seven dollars. Not too shabby for an hour’s work.
While Bernice and Merle chatted, I pulled up the tips account, found Bernice’s name on the list of employees, and input the date, time, and amount of her tips.
Her aching feet now sufficiently rubbed, Bernice reached down, hooked a finger through the back strap of each shoe and stood to go.
Merle looked up at her with puppy-dog eyes. “When are you going to be my girl, Bernice?”
She put a hand to his cheek. “Someday, Merle,” she said softly. “Someday.” She touched her lips gently to his bald head and quietly stepped out of the room.
chapter twelve
All That Glitters Is Not Gold
After Bernice left, Merle remained with his back to me for several seconds, not moving, until he finally issued a sigh and turned around. “Think you got how the system works?”
“Easy peasy.”
“Good.” He stood. “I need to visit the men’s room.”
While Merle was away, the girl who had been performing the lap dance came to the cash office door. I opened it and she handed me her tips.
“I’m Candy,” she said. “With a y .”
The only y on my mind was, Why is she telling me how to spell Candy? “Okaaay.”
As Candy stepped away, the other dancer came through the door.
“Hi,” she said, handing me a warm and slightly damp stack of bills. Urk. At least the girl couldn’t be accused of not giving it her all on the stage. “I’m Candi,” she said. “With an i .”
Aha! Now the spelling lesson made sense. “Candi with an i . Got it.”
I closed the door and put the money in two envelopes, one for Candy with a y and one for Candi with an i . Candi with an i had a bigger stack, probably because she was more stacked.
I’d just taken my seat to count the dancers’ tips when another knock sounded at the door. I looked through the window to see Christina standing in the hallway dressed in a Guys & Dolls cocktail-waitress uniform—a sheer-sleeved black halter top with a matching micromini, fishnet tights, and heels. She’d added a rhinestone choker for a touch of class. The skimpy uniform revealed quite a bit of Christina’s cleavage, as well as several inches of flat, brown belly. Her dark hair hung loose and wild. She held a round drink tray tucked under one arm.
I opened the door, noting Don Geils’s office door across the hall was now open, too.
“Hi,” she said. “I need a cash tray, please.”
“And you are?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
“Christie,” she said.
I retrieved one of the small plastic money tills, counted out forty dollars in start-up cash as Merle had directed me, and handed the till to
“Oh, Merle,” Bernice said. “You’re such a charmer.” She handed him a stack of bills and took a seat in the room’s only wing chair, bending over to unbuckle her shoes.
Merle handed the stack to me and introduced us. “Bernice, this is the new bookkeeper, Sara. Sara, this beautiful creature is Bernice LaBerge, the pride and joy of Guys and Dolls.”
Bernice and I had already met, but Merle didn’t know that.
“Nice to meet you, Bernice,” I said. “I noticed you had a crowd of admirers out there.”
“My fans are quite loyal. They’ve been coming to see me for years.”
How many years? I wanted to ask.
She pulled off one shoe before setting to work on the other. “Of course, my fans were far more generous before they went on Social Security.”
She and Merle shared a laugh.
Merle pulled his rolling chair over in front of Bernice. Once she’d freed her other foot from the stiletto, she raised her feet and placed them in Merle’s lap. He immediately set to work giving her a foot rub.
Bernice leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Aah. That’s the ticket, Merle. That’s the ticket.”
I counted the cash Bernice had handed me, wondering if Donald Geils was watching me through the security camera. Sixty-seven dollars. Not too shabby for an hour’s work.
While Bernice and Merle chatted, I pulled up the tips account, found Bernice’s name on the list of employees, and input the date, time, and amount of her tips.
Her aching feet now sufficiently rubbed, Bernice reached down, hooked a finger through the back strap of each shoe and stood to go.
Merle looked up at her with puppy-dog eyes. “When are you going to be my girl, Bernice?”
She put a hand to his cheek. “Someday, Merle,” she said softly. “Someday.” She touched her lips gently to his bald head and quietly stepped out of the room.
chapter twelve
All That Glitters Is Not Gold
After Bernice left, Merle remained with his back to me for several seconds, not moving, until he finally issued a sigh and turned around. “Think you got how the system works?”
“Easy peasy.”
“Good.” He stood. “I need to visit the men’s room.”
While Merle was away, the girl who had been performing the lap dance came to the cash office door. I opened it and she handed me her tips.
“I’m Candy,” she said. “With a y .”
The only y on my mind was, Why is she telling me how to spell Candy? “Okaaay.”
As Candy stepped away, the other dancer came through the door.
“Hi,” she said, handing me a warm and slightly damp stack of bills. Urk. At least the girl couldn’t be accused of not giving it her all on the stage. “I’m Candi,” she said. “With an i .”
Aha! Now the spelling lesson made sense. “Candi with an i . Got it.”
I closed the door and put the money in two envelopes, one for Candy with a y and one for Candi with an i . Candi with an i had a bigger stack, probably because she was more stacked.
I’d just taken my seat to count the dancers’ tips when another knock sounded at the door. I looked through the window to see Christina standing in the hallway dressed in a Guys & Dolls cocktail-waitress uniform—a sheer-sleeved black halter top with a matching micromini, fishnet tights, and heels. She’d added a rhinestone choker for a touch of class. The skimpy uniform revealed quite a bit of Christina’s cleavage, as well as several inches of flat, brown belly. Her dark hair hung loose and wild. She held a round drink tray tucked under one arm.
I opened the door, noting Don Geils’s office door across the hall was now open, too.
“Hi,” she said. “I need a cash tray, please.”
“And you are?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
“Christie,” she said.
I retrieved one of the small plastic money tills, counted out forty dollars in start-up cash as Merle had directed me, and handed the till to
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