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“Oh.”
The rest of the night I watched him out of the corner of my eye and gradually came to realize that behind that shy, sleepy grin, there wasn’t much else going on.
It was a little baffling. How a guy like that could survive in a motorcycle gang amongst sharks like Lou Shaw, I had no idea. But I let it go. If the Midnight Riders were content to look after him, then that was at least one bonus mark in their column as far as I was concerned. And they could use a couple.
Towards the end of the evening, one dancer took up residence at the bar – a thin woman in a string bikini wearing a long, platinum-blonde wig. You might say she was talkative; if so, you would definitely be understating the case. Shelley could hardly get a word in edgewise, and for a chatty Kathy like Shelley, that’s saying something.
“This is Jasmine,” Shelley finally introduced us, probably trying to offload the motormouth stripper on me.
“I don’t look like a Jasmine, though, do I? You don’t have to say nothin’, I know I don’t. Real name’s Tammy, pleased to meetcha,” the stripper said, and stuck out her hand to shake mine. “I oughta change my stage name to Bubbles or Bambi or somethin’. Make ‘em think I’m stupider’n I look. It’s the blonde hair. I picked Jasmine ‘cause I liked Aladdin when I was a little girl, you know that Disney movie with the blue genie?” she said, and pulled off her wig to reveal a pixie cut of thick black hair. “But men don’t tip brunettes as good as blondes, and they sure as shit don’t tip short-haired ones. Blondes have more fun and make more tips. Am I right or am I right, Shelley?”
Shelley gave her blonde hair a little toss and laughed. “You’re right, darlin’.”
“You gettin’ any tips?” Tammy asked me.
“No, but I’m basically just serving the motorcycle guys.”
“At least you ain’t givin’ ‘em lap dances. Here, try my hair,” she said, and held out the wig.
“Um – no, I’m okay – ”
“Try it!” she insisted, and plunked down the wig on my head before I could ward her off.
Shelley was about to bust a gut. “Girl, you look like the preacher’s daughter just went to the glamour shots place!”
I gave Shelley a sideways look, then turned back to my ‘hair benefactor.’ “I appreciate it, Jasmi – Tammy – ”
“Try it!” she cried enthusiastically as she straightened the wig and smoothed it out. “Hell, I’ll tip you myself if you don’t get at least a little sumpin’ sumpin’!”
I thought about ripping the damn thing off my head. However, I wanted to make allies, not enemies, so I reluctantly turned towards the motorcycle guys with my tray of shots.
Tammy swatted my butt as I walked away. “Get that dolla, make you holla!”
I groaned inwardly as I approached the motorcycle guys – but a miracle happened: they all started shouting and cheering as I approached, and at least half plunked down dollars as I doled out their drinks. I wondered what the hell was going on, until I glanced around and saw Tammy standing on the bar, flicking imaginary dollar bills off an invisible wad in a ‘make it rain’ kind of gesture.
I looked at her with a hand on my hip, like, Seriously?
“Get that dolla, make you holla!” she yelled with a huge grin on her face.
I laughed and mouthed Thank you to her as I pocketed my tips.
Then I saw her eyes widen, and wondered what she was reacting to.
“You look pretty good as a blonde,” a familiar voice rumbled behind me.
My heart immediately skipped a beat.
I turned around to see Jack grinning at me.
Gone were all my previous fears that he might be a killer. He had reassured me with his earlier phone call, and now all I saw was a good man. A man who had grieved the loss of someone he had tried to help. A man who had tried to help my cousin in her darkest hour.
But I played my role. I smirked at him playfully – which took all the powers of control I had, because what I really wanted to do was burst into grateful, relieved tears and throw my arms around his neck.
“You want me to wear it for later?”
“Naaah… I like you as a brunette. Plus, when I pull your hair, I don’t want it coming off.”
I raised one eyebrow. “Oh really?”
