see your education wasn’t completely wasted,” he snickered, “ But no, that is Czar. I suppose it sounds similar enough to be confused.”
“How about I call you B-Zar. Like Bizarre. Get it?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“B-Zar it is!”
He cringed. Yes. One for me.
***
I crossed the Columbia River into Portland at dusk. A wide gray river passed below a wide gray sky. Portland looked even more dreary and damp than Seattle in the middle of winter.
Christmas lights framed the windows of shops and restaurants downtown. They twinkled on the puddles that collected from the heavy rain. I felt a cold shiver thinking of being alone at Christmas, in some strip-club.
B-Zar glanced over at me and gave me a big toothy grin. I swear his eye actually twinkled. I let out a long exasperated sigh and rolled my eyes before pulling into the parking lot across the street from Club Rouge.
The downtown foot traffic was busy for the last few shopping days before Christmas. Everyone was out and about to buy their last gifts for family and friends. Gleeful faces passed me, tucked under umbrellas and waterproof parkas. I grabbed the backpack with my stripper gear and headed straight for the front door of the club. B-Zar followed right behind me.
We made it into the front entrance of the club and were met by a short muscular bouncer wearing a fedora. I told him I was a featured dancer and B-Zar was my bodyguard. He gave us some verbal jabbing but finally let us pass without paying the cover.
Inside the music pulsated. A girl with full sleeve tattoos, nipple rings, and a clit ring walked delicately around the pole. Her pink hair was styled like a 1950s housewife.
I still wore my street clothes— skinny jeans and a patched, black hooded-sweatshirt. B-Zar was suddenly wearing a three piece suit that made him like he should be doing business on Wall Street or something. I smirked at him and realized I must have looked like shit.
I asked a waitress with horn rimmed glasses and pigtails for the manager. She pointed to a dude with curly, black hair that was so wet with product it left damp marks on the back of his purple silk shirt. I approached him with B-Zar at my back twirling my lip ring with my tongue.
“Hey, what up?” I said, trying to get his attention. He was absorbed in a conversation with a girl in the tiniest polka dot string bikini ever. He looked up at me like I was a disgusting street rat.
“Can I help you?” He said , all annoyed.
“I’m Eva. We talked on the phone. You said you would host me as a featured dancer tonight.”
“You’re Eva? You don’t look like your picture.”
“Dude. I’ve been driving all day, and it’s raining like a bitch outside.” I pulled the hood down off my head and gave him a puckered sex smile. He looked me up and down. His eyes lingered around my crotch.
“Ah. You’re the girl with the pole tricks. I expected you to be more… athletic.”
“Can’t a girl loose some weight without everyone thinking she’s on crack?”
“Fine. Just go get ready,” he said flipping his hand and motioning toward a closed door.
I took my queue and made for the dressing room. I pushed open the door and a wave of cheap perfume hit my nostrils and made my head swim. The door swung shut right in B-Zar’s face. I heard a scuffle outside and opened the door to see some bouncers manhandling B-Zar.
“Wait! Wait … He’s with me. He’s my bodyguard.”
“He can’t go in there. He should know that.”
B-Zar pulled his arms away from the bouncers and looked at them like he was about to swat away some annoying flies.
“He’s a little… slow. Sorry. Won’t happen again.”
“Slow?” Balthazar said, raising an eyebrow and straightening his suit and tie.
“Fine. Just don’t let it happen again,” said a bouncer who was probably a little slow himself. They walked away and B-Zar glared at me as I stood in front of the dressing room door.
“What , fool?” I
“How about I call you B-Zar. Like Bizarre. Get it?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“B-Zar it is!”
He cringed. Yes. One for me.
***
I crossed the Columbia River into Portland at dusk. A wide gray river passed below a wide gray sky. Portland looked even more dreary and damp than Seattle in the middle of winter.
Christmas lights framed the windows of shops and restaurants downtown. They twinkled on the puddles that collected from the heavy rain. I felt a cold shiver thinking of being alone at Christmas, in some strip-club.
B-Zar glanced over at me and gave me a big toothy grin. I swear his eye actually twinkled. I let out a long exasperated sigh and rolled my eyes before pulling into the parking lot across the street from Club Rouge.
The downtown foot traffic was busy for the last few shopping days before Christmas. Everyone was out and about to buy their last gifts for family and friends. Gleeful faces passed me, tucked under umbrellas and waterproof parkas. I grabbed the backpack with my stripper gear and headed straight for the front door of the club. B-Zar followed right behind me.
We made it into the front entrance of the club and were met by a short muscular bouncer wearing a fedora. I told him I was a featured dancer and B-Zar was my bodyguard. He gave us some verbal jabbing but finally let us pass without paying the cover.
Inside the music pulsated. A girl with full sleeve tattoos, nipple rings, and a clit ring walked delicately around the pole. Her pink hair was styled like a 1950s housewife.
I still wore my street clothes— skinny jeans and a patched, black hooded-sweatshirt. B-Zar was suddenly wearing a three piece suit that made him like he should be doing business on Wall Street or something. I smirked at him and realized I must have looked like shit.
I asked a waitress with horn rimmed glasses and pigtails for the manager. She pointed to a dude with curly, black hair that was so wet with product it left damp marks on the back of his purple silk shirt. I approached him with B-Zar at my back twirling my lip ring with my tongue.
“Hey, what up?” I said, trying to get his attention. He was absorbed in a conversation with a girl in the tiniest polka dot string bikini ever. He looked up at me like I was a disgusting street rat.
“Can I help you?” He said , all annoyed.
“I’m Eva. We talked on the phone. You said you would host me as a featured dancer tonight.”
“You’re Eva? You don’t look like your picture.”
“Dude. I’ve been driving all day, and it’s raining like a bitch outside.” I pulled the hood down off my head and gave him a puckered sex smile. He looked me up and down. His eyes lingered around my crotch.
“Ah. You’re the girl with the pole tricks. I expected you to be more… athletic.”
“Can’t a girl loose some weight without everyone thinking she’s on crack?”
“Fine. Just go get ready,” he said flipping his hand and motioning toward a closed door.
I took my queue and made for the dressing room. I pushed open the door and a wave of cheap perfume hit my nostrils and made my head swim. The door swung shut right in B-Zar’s face. I heard a scuffle outside and opened the door to see some bouncers manhandling B-Zar.
“Wait! Wait … He’s with me. He’s my bodyguard.”
“He can’t go in there. He should know that.”
B-Zar pulled his arms away from the bouncers and looked at them like he was about to swat away some annoying flies.
“He’s a little… slow. Sorry. Won’t happen again.”
“Slow?” Balthazar said, raising an eyebrow and straightening his suit and tie.
“Fine. Just don’t let it happen again,” said a bouncer who was probably a little slow himself. They walked away and B-Zar glared at me as I stood in front of the dressing room door.
“What , fool?” I
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