Drumsticks by Charlotte Carter Page B

got bouncers up the wahzoo in here. Besides, what if Aubrey’s on now? You’ll get one look at her bod and forget all about me.”
    â€œNot a chance,” he said.
    Shock. Puzzlement. Titillation. All there on his face.
    Was I enjoying this. At last, I was the cool kid who was always leading everybody else into sin.
    â€œWhy don’t you call it a night, Dan. I’ll speak to you.”
    â€œI’m going in with you.”
    â€œOkay. Come on in.”
    We made our way through the smoke-filled room. Men. Everywhere you turned. Young and old. Most of them drunk.
    Dan said, straining to be heard above the din, “The mayor doesn’t like strippers. What’s your friend going to do if they start enforcing the law about places like this?”
    I thought about it for a minute, and shrugged. “Maybe Alvin Ailey?”
    As we were laughing about that, we heard a squeal of delight from somewhere behind us. “Smash! What up?” the voice said.
    I turned to see Justin hurrying toward us.
    Now, I would have predicted that a drink-and-chat meeting between Dan Hinton and the always outrageous Justin might well turn into a major surrealist event. But I was wrong. Mostly because Justin fell into near rapturous silence and let Dan do most of the chatting. By God, Dan Hinton had, like me, been raised by some rock-solid middle-class Negroes: he could keep up a polite line of small talk with just about anybody—even while they were staring at his crotch.
    About a quarter to three, I convinced Dan to go home. I was exhausted and wanted to lie down in Aubrey’s dressing room until she was changed and ready to leave. She was so busy that night she didn’t even know I was in the house. But, I said teasingly to Dan, “I’ll introduce you to her next time.”
    He kissed me good night like a rutting musk ox. I suppose the endless parade of naked female flesh, together with the testosterone in the air and the mild attack of homosexual panic that Justin had probably evoked, all contributed to his fervid embrace.
    So ended my dream date.
    Justin wore a filthy expression.
    â€œDown, boy,” I said. “The live sex act is over.”
    â€œChild, where did you get that man?” he said. “You must be paying Mama Lou time and a half. I want that fucking doll back, you hear me?”
    â€œPut your tongue back in your head, J.” Aubrey was suddenly at my side. “Nanette, where did you get that man who just left out of here?”
    Last dance, like the song says.
    The naked girls were all finished for the night and the cleaning people were sweeping the floor and stacking the chairs.
    What time was it when I ate dinner? Nine or so. I had no business being hungry again, but there I was at the bar sharing an order of moo goo gai pan with Justin. The Chinese place off Canal Street never closed.
    Aubrey was backstage cleaning herself up.
    â€œLove is in the air,” J said with a sigh, making his chopsticks do a little dance across the bar surface. “Mama Lou is working those roots.”
    â€œOh, you think so, huh?”
    â€œYes, I do. Me and Kenny. You and Daniel. Love is all around and you’re gonna make it after all, Smash-up. We’re going to have a fabulous holiday season.”
    â€œYeah. Fa-la-la.”
    â€œSpeaking of Madam Lou and her magic, is there any news since our little enterprise uptown?” he asked. “Still trying to prove that Ida Williams was deliberately offed?”
    â€œStill trying to find out exactly what happened. Ida wasn’t exactly Miss Jane Pittman, turns out. She’d been in prison. Loveless doesn’t think I’m quite so crazy now for being suspicious. I don’t know much about the investigation. This pain-in-the-ass cop I know is supposed to be keeping me up-to-date on things. But I had to do something for him first. He’s kind of got me over a barrel.”
    Raised eyebrow. “My, my.