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  “You make one hell of a drink,” I said, saluting him with a raised glass. “Can I get another when you have a minute?”

  “Coming right up. By the way, I’m Zach.”

  “Hi Zach, I’m Sarah.”

  “Is this your first visit to the club?”

  I nodded.

  “Meeting someone?”

  I shook my head then realized that a woman hanging out alone at a strip club might come across as being a bit odd. “Actually,” I said, “I’m looking for a job … something part time, maybe a few nights a week.”

  “Well, if you want to write down your information, I’ll see that the manager gets it.”

  “Cool. Thank you.” I saw Zach look toward the stage and smile. As I turned my head out of curiosity, I found my view blocked by a man who stood staring at me.

  “Excuse me,” he said, gesturing at the stool on the other side of mine. “Is that taken?”

  “Yeah, sure, I mean, no ...” I gestured awkwardly at the vacant stool. “Sorry, this margarita has gone straight to my head.” He was impossibly good looking, with tightly-shaven black hair and stubble on his chin and upper lip. His piercing blue eyes bore into me.

  “No apology necessary.” As he cozied up next to me I checked out his clothing. He wore a dark grey linen suit with a crisp, white, button-down shirt and burgundy tie.

  “I’ll have what she’s having,” he said, extending a hand towards me when Zach appeared. Can I buy you another margarita?”

  “No thanks. Well, actually, okay.” I was anxious. This guy was a total gentleman so far, but so damn good looking it was clouding my judgment. Was he flirting with me or just being polite? I thanked him as Zach set the margarita in front of me. I decided I’d better nurse this one. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” he said. “It’s the least I could do.”

  “But I haven’t done anything.”

  “Well, you were kind enough to let me sit here while you wait for your boyfriend.”

  “Oh, I’m not expecting anyone. The seat’s all yours. I’m here solo looking for a bartending job.” I wasn’t sure why I’d just explained myself to a total stranger. What did it matter? I was there for one reason: to get whatever information I could from Tiffany.

  “I see. Well, lucky for me then.” He cocked his head as he spoke which seemed to suggest I should be grateful that a stud like him would talk to someone like me. At that moment he no longer seemed quite so handsome. Be it my imagination or insecurity, I had a sense he was just amusing himself with me while waiting for someone better to come along. As a result, I ignored whatever it was he said next and turned back toward the stage. Besides, the last time I let a guy buy me a drink he ended up dead.

  When I turned back around a few minutes later, he was gone.

  Chapter 19

  A few hours passed, and I could barely keep myself upright any longer. Not so much because I was drunk. It was just way past my bedtime: almost midnight. My legs had grown numb, remaining stationary for far too long.

  The club had to be closing soon. I asked Zach if he knew the dancers, but he’d only been working there a few weeks and couldn’t tell me much.

  When the music finally stopped and the lights came on, I found my mind utterly devoid of any clever ideas for getting to Tiffany. Within ten minutes, the place was nearly empty. Zach set the bar tab in front of me. I cringed to think how much it would be. Fortunately, Carter would reimburse me. Four twenty dollar bills later, I stood up, put on my jacket, and waved good-bye to Zach.

  I made my way toward the exit as slowly as I dared. Where was the dancers’ changing room? Had Tiffany already left? I paused near the exit doors, pretending to look for something inside my purse. The look on the bouncer’s face told me I’d overstayed my welcome.

  I stepped outside and inhaled sharply. I snugged my collar around my neck as the cold air struck my face. Where had I parked my car? I scanned the whole parking lot to no avail. I fished in my purse for the keys, figuring I’d press the lock button to flash the lights.

  After a moment, I came to a grim realization: the keys were gone and so was my vehicle.

  Panic began to set in. I pawed frantically through my purse a second time. No keys. Had I left them on the bar?

  I ran back toward the building. The door was locked. I banged and banged until someone showed. A stocky guy with a tattoo on his neck opened the door a crack. He looked quite annoyed.

  “Please,” I gasped, nearly out of breath, “I think I left my car keys on the bar. I need to get back in.”

  “Sorry. Club’s closed,” he said, dismissing me with a wave of his hand.

  “But I can’t get home without my keys?”

  “Not my problem.”

  “Give me a break, will ya? Could you at least go check for me? I’ll wait out here in the freezing cold.” I wrapped my arms around my chest and tucked my chin for emphasis. I thought he was going to ignore me when the door swung wide. He stepped aside to let me in.

  “Thank you very much,” I said, maneuvering around his bulky frame. I headed straight for Zach, who was cleaning up behind the bar. “Excuse me, Zach,” I said, still out of breath. “Did you find a set of keys?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t. Did you check the ladies room?”

  “I haven’t, but I’m going to right now.” I remembered that I’d visited the restroom after my second margarita.

  I opened the door, stepped inside, and turned on the light. I immediately jumped back and let out an involuntary scream. A man was standing directly in front of me with his back against the wall. A blonde woman knelt before him, her face buried in his crotch.

  “Holy shit,” I gasped, stumbling backwards and slipping on the tile. I grabbed the edge of a nearby trash can to prevent myself from hitting the floor. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  The young woman stood up, wiping her mouth as she whirled around. She glared at me while the man awkwardly fumbled with his zipper.

  “Do you fucking mind?” she said in a thick Boston accent. I recognized her as one of the cocktail waitresses.

  “I’m really sorry,” I blurted out. “I lost my car keys. I thought I might have dropped them in here.” I backed away, searching for the door handle. I hurried back toward the bar.

  “No luck?” Zach asked.

  I shook my head, fighting back tears of frustration. “I’ll figure something out. Unfortunately, my car seems to be gone, too.”

  “Are you serious? That really sucks. Look, I’ll give you a ride home if you don’t mind waiting.”

  “Thank you, that’s very kind, but I’m going to call a friend to give me a lift.” I dialed Carter’s number and prayed he would answer. Fortunately, he picked up after three rings.

  “Thank god, Carter. I think my car was stolen. I’m stuck here at the strip club.”

  “Slow down. You woke me from a dead sleep. Now, what’s going on?”

  “I’m still at the club and I need a ride. Can you please come get me.”

  “It’s ... after midnight.”

  “No kidding,” I replied, nearly at my wits end. I heard a sigh at the other end of the line.

  “Fine, I’m on my way.”

  I took a deep breath and did my best to calm down when I noticed the bouncer walking towards me. I glanced around the room. Zach was nowhere in sight.

  “Ma’am, we’re closed. You’ve got to get out of here,” he said, grabbing my arm.

  “I’m waiting for a friend to pick me up,” I replied, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

  “Well, you’ll have to wait outside.” The bouncer tightened his grip around my bicep.

  “You’re hurting me,” I said, raising my voice.

  “Tony, let go of her,” a female’s voice commanded. The bouncer and I both turned.

  “Tiff, you’re still here?” The brute released my arm.

  “Sure looks that way, doesn’t it?” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

  “F
riend of yours?” he asked, jabbing my arm with his fat thumb.

  “It doesn’t matter who she is. You don’t manhandle women, understand?”

  The bouncer raised both his hands in mock surrender then walked away. Tiffany gave me a tired smile.

  “Sorry about that. Tony can be a real pain in the ass. You okay?”

  “That remains to be seen,” I said with a smile. “I lost my keys and I think someone may have stolen my car, so it’s been quite an evening. I’m waiting for a friend to pick me up. He should be here in twenty minutes or so.”

  “Oh, I would be so pissed if that happened to me,” Tiffany said. “Listen, I’m going to wind down with a glass of wine. You’re welcome to join me.”

  “Thanks. I’d like that very much. By the way, I’m Sarah.”

  “Tiffany,” she said, taking my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  I followed her to the bar and watched as she reached across the counter and retrieved two wine glasses and a bottle of red. She’d changed out of her dancing clothes into faded blue jeans and a pink t-shirt. She looked ten years younger with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and the heavy make-up gone.

  “Zach won’t mind. We’re allowed one drink after the show. He must be out back doing inventory.” She opened the bottle and poured a glass for each of us.

  “Zach seems like a nice guy,” I said as she slid a glass of wine in my direction. “And cute, too.”

  “Yeah, Zach’s much nicer than the last bartender we had, who was a total prick. He eventually got fired for stealing a bottle of Maker’s Mark.”

  “I do some bartending on the side. It would be fun to work here.”

  “That would be great. We really should have female bartenders here, too.”

  “By the way, I really enjoyed your performance, tonight.” As soon as I said it, I realized she might interpret the comment differently than I had intended. But it was time to take this conversation to the next level, as I only had a few minutes.

  “Thanks,” she said, looking down at her lap. “I don’t plan on doing this forever. Just until I have a decent amount of money saved. I make a lot more doing this than I would waiting tables forty hours a week.”

  I felt a little sorry for her. She was a beautiful girl. Why was she stripping, I wondered? She could have been a Victoria’s Secret model. “Hey, we do what we have to do, right?”

  “I guess so. But I’m not getting any younger. I’ll be thirty next month. Believe it or not, that’s considered old in this business.”

  “Have you thought of modeling.”

  She laughed. “You’re far too kind.” She massaged the back of her neck and gave me a curious look. “So, you came here alone tonight. Does that mean you’re into women?”

  I almost choked on my wine. I set the glass down and dabbed my lower lip with a napkin. “No, I’m not gay,” I said. “But I can see how you might think that.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that ... well ... never mind.” She shook her head.

  “Actually,” I said, tapping my fingers on the wine glass, “I had a boyfriend up until a few days ago.”

  She swiveled her stool around to face me. “What happened?”

  “He cheated on me.”

  “That totally sucks. How’d you find out?”

  I paused, in order to fabricate a believable sob story. “I found a condom wrapper in the pocket of his jeans. We never used them.” I rested my chin on my hand and sighed.

  After a brief silence, Tiffany muttered under her breath. “Asshole. Men really suck, sometimes.”

  “You’re not kidding. When I confronted him about it, he had the nerve to tell me I was a lousy lay. Can you believe that?” The lies were suddenly flowing.

  “You’re kidding. What’d you say?”

  “I told him to go to hell. But he just laughed at me, you know, like he didn’t believe I’d ever leave his sorry ass.”

  “I hope you walked out and didn’t look back.” Tiffany crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed.

  “I tried to leave, but he shoved me against the wall.” I was beginning to wonder if I was overdoing it. “I can’t believe I ever fell for that jerk to begin with.”

  “You call the cops? Please tell me you had him arrested.”

  “I didn’t have a chance. He split, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since.” I stared into my drink and pondered my story. Had she bought it? “Sorry,” I said. “I’m sure the last thing you needed tonight was someone bending your ear about an abusive boyfriend. Thanks for letting me vent.”

  “Talk all you want. I’m a good listener.” She shifted on her stool. “My friends tell me I should’ve been a therapist.” She giggled and took a sip of her wine.

  We sat in silence for a long moment. I finally got up the nerve to ask the question I had come to find an answer for. “So, do you have a boyfriend?”

  Tiffany looked at her glass, downed the remainder of her wine then immediately refilled it. “Not anymore,” she said.

  I waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, I asked, “What happened?”

  She lowered her eyes. “It’s the same old story. I always want the ones I can’t have.”

  “He was married?”

  She nodded. “He was. Not that it stopped him from running around. He had others, too.”

  “Were you in love with him?”

  “That’s the funny thing. I don’t think I was. But he made me laugh, you know? He was fun and carefree. My dancing didn’t seem to bother him at all.”

  “How’d you find out he was married?”

  “He got a call one night while he was at my place. He left the room, but I overheard him talking.”

  “You must have been hurt.”

  “You know, I think I felt worse for him. It must be awful to be stuck in a marriage with someone you don’t want to be with. Anyways, I ended it and told him he should try to work things out with his wife.”

  If she was referring to Marty, and I had to assume she was, I detected no bitterness whatsoever. “Did you meet him here?” I asked.

  She nodded. “I did. I suppose I should have known better than to get involved with a customer. But he was so sweet. It was hard to say no to that man.”

  “I wish I could find a sweet, honest man to fall in love with. I seem to be attracted only to the bad boys.”

  “You’re not alone. But I know someone who might be able to help you deal with that asshole ex-boyfriend of yours.” She reached across the bar, grabbed a pen, and scribbled something on a napkin.

  “Who’s this?” I asked. She had written the name Armand and included a phone number.

  “Just call him. You can thank me later.”

  I was at a complete loss. I slipped the napkin into my purse just as Zach returned.

  “Hello, ladies. I see you’ve helped yourself to my wine stock.”

  “Yes, and we’re doing a grand job of drowning our sorrows.” Tiffany smiled discretely behind her wine glass.

  A buzzing sound inside my purse told me I had an incoming text message. I checked: it was from Carter. It read: Five minutes away. Meet me outside.

  “Well,” I said, “my ride’s here. I’m grateful to you both for letting me hang out. If I’d waited outside, I’d be a human popsicle by now.”

  “No problem. Take care, Sarah. I hope we’ll see you again.” She and Zach both waved as I turned and walked toward the exit.

  Outside, Carter was just pulling up to the curb.

  “Sorry you had to come get me, but I didn’t know who else to call.” As I settled in, a sinking feeling came over me. “I think someone stole my car. Guess I’d better report it.”

  “We can stop at the police station on the way back.”

  “Thanks.” I brought my hand to my mouth to stifle a yawn. “Otherwise, it all worked out. I was able to talk to Tiffany.”

  “Did you get anything we can use?” he asked.

  “I gave her a sob story about my chea
ting boyfriend, and she mentioned being involved with a married man. She didn’t offer a name and I didn’t push.”

  “Do you think she was referring to Marty?”

  “I think so, but oddly enough, she didn’t seem the least bit angry or resentful. Wells said Marty told him Tiffany was livid when he broke it off with her. But Tiffany claims she was the one who ended her relationship with the married guy.”

  “Maybe she was talking about some other guy?”

  “Or maybe Marty’s lofty ego was bruised and he told Wells a different story to save face. He seemed like the type who wouldn’t admit to being dumped, especially by a stripper.”

  “We need to find out for sure.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “We follow her home.”

  “Tonight?” I asked. Carter’s sudden U-turn provided the answer. We returned to the club and parked across the street. He shut off the engine and killed the lights.

  “I hope you’re not in any hurry to get home,” he said.

  I shrugged. “No one will miss me.” I remembered the napkin. “I got a phone number,” I said, digging in my purse.

  Carter produced a small flashlight he kept in the center console. He took the napkin and clicked the light on. “Who’s Armand?”

  “No idea. All she said was that he’d take care of the asshole boyfriend I told her about.”

  Carter gave me a quizzical look. “Okay, give him a call in the morning.” He switched the light off, returned it to the console, and looked across the street.

  “You know,” I said, after a brief silence, “I was thinking if things don’t work out with you, maybe I’ll get a part-time job bartending at Lola’s.”

  “What do you know about bartending?”

  “A lot. I worked my way through massage school by bartending.”

  “Ever work at a strip club?”

  “No, but so what? If I can make drinks at Applebee’s, I can certainly make them at Lola’s.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” Carter threw his head back in laughter.

  “What’s so damn funny? You got something against Applebee’s?”