It wasn’t a busy time at the clown strip club, but it was the time Isabella was on the clock. She wasn’t as aggressive as the other dancers, so she never got to work the peak hours. She wasn’t much of a night person anyway and usually went to sleep around nine or ten like some kind of child or an old lady. Bingo thought it was kind of cute, but it meant he didn’t get to see her very much since he was usually up pretty late. He tried to wake up early enough to see her dance whenever he got the chance, but it had been a while. With the tension escalating between the Bozos and the French clown gang, Le Mystère, Bingo was working more hours than usual, putting in time as backup muscle on any job involving the boss or his son, Jimmy Bozo.
When they entered the club, the cleaners stood in the back of the room, awkwardness written all over their faces. Maybe they’d never been in a clown strip club before, or maybe it was because their makeup had smeared so much that it was obvious they were just vanillas in clown-face. But dancers in these clubs were masters at reading body language and knew they had to engage the shy customers if they ever hoped to get money out of them. Within five minutes, the two men were surrounded by half-naked clowns bumping their noses on their foreheads and pulling them by their ties toward the private rooms.
“Hey, Bingo,” the thick-jawed bartender asked when he saw Bingo’s big mug staring at him from the other side of the bar. “What can I get for you?”
“Where’s Isabella? She’s supposed to be working here today, ain’t she?”
The bartender shrugged as he wiped the bar with a washcloth. “No clue. I haven’t seen her in a few days.”
“Is she sick or something?”
“Not that I know of. She just stopped coming in. The owner’s been pissed.”
It was as Bingo feared. He hoped it wasn’t too late. It would destroy him if he had to live with the knowledge that a sweet girl like Isabella got iced on account of him.
“When was she last in?”
“I think Monday was the last I saw her.”
“Did she leave with any guys?”
“Not that I know of. People know to stay away from her, Bing. And if some vanilla tourist comes on a little strong our bouncers put him in his place. You got nothing to worry about.”
“Hmm…,” Bingo grunted. “I’ll try her at her place. Thanks, Lobo.”
When Bingo went for the two guys he came in with, they were stuck in the private booths as the clown dancers splattered cream pies in their faces and showered them with confetti. The thug decided he’d wait for them to finish so the girls could get their full payment. After dating Isabella for half a year, he’d learned that the girls working there deserved to get as much money as they could for having to deal with the guys that came in there. He wasn’t about to stand between them and their tips.