Shopping out of the way, Vivian, Wendy, Lucy and Kate walked to Bourbon and down a couple of blocks, and there it was. Kitty City. Hot pink neon lights reflected off the murky puddles in the street.
“This isn’t going to be one of those live sex act places, is it?” Lucy asked.
“Guess we’re about to find out,” Vivian said.
Standing outside the door and trying to lure in dollar bills was a dancer in high-heeled, black patent leather boots with a string around her neck, the middle of her back, top of her waist, around her thighs and down her crack. She turned to greet the girls when they walked up, revealing the thin strap in front, barely covering her nipples, and a small flap of fabric covering her coochie.
“We love the ladies, no escort needed,” String girl said and handed them a postcard of Trikki Vikki. “We have a special treat tonight, but there is a two-drink minimum.”
Vivian said thanks while Lucy snickered and Wendy started to laugh, then tried to cover it up with a cough.
Once inside, they found a table close to the stage. The current feature, a spiky-haired, flat-chested girl, looked stoned. She was using the pole more to hold herself up than to dance.
Vivian couldn’t help but think of Josh Weathers’ song, “What Does It Mean To You,” as she looked around. His lyrics rang true for the girls here, You know your momma raised ya better. None of them looked happy to be there. Eight hundred dollars a night, opens up your days. And you got them bills you just…got to pay. Brand new Benz sittin…in the driveway, but that’s probably why they were.
Vivian laughed to herself. I doubt these girls are pulling in $300 a night, much less $800. Her attention was diverted by the waitress in a red pleather dress with keyhole cutouts around the navel and cleavage. The girls ordered a round of beers, and Vivian looked at the waitress like she must have misunderstood the order when she set glasses not much bigger than a shot glass in front of them.
“Sixteen dollars, please,” Pleatherette said.
“Uhhh, we ordered four beers,” Vivian said.
“Yep, that’s it. Sixteen dollars.”
The girls paid, shot their beer, then ordered their mandatory second round. Vivian scanned the crowd for big guys. Instead she saw two big girls in matching shirts, Bitch 1 and Bitch 2. They sat stage left and had their attention focused on the stoned dancer. One of them noticed Vivian looking at them and waved.
Vivian gave a hesitant smile.
The music changed to Marcy Playground’s “I Smell Sex and Candy.” A big-busted, solid black dancer sauntered on stage wearing a candy-striper outfit and carrying an oversized candy cane, the kind in yards around Christmas. She shimmied, swiveled and swung, never dropping her prop.
The Bitches were front and center, ready to give Candy a treat. Bitch 1 was tall, probably 5-9, with dirty blonde hair. She frantically waved a dollar in the air as Candy danced over, removing her striper layer and revealing a G-string as yellow as a banana Laffy Taffy.
Lucy leaned over to Vivian, nodding her head in approval. “You have to admit, that’s a good color for her.”
Bitch 2 was shorter with dark, country-girl plain Jane hair. She was more discreet with her dollar, gently placing it in Candy’s taffy string.
Instead of walking back to their table, the matching Bitch set took the spot next to Vivian and the girls, who all looked at each other and shared a moment of mortification.
It won’t last long, Vivian thought.
Bitch 2 leaned over to Vivian. All Vivian could see was the giant cold sore on her lip.
“Hey there, I’m Tereza. This is Susie.” Bitch 1 lifted her chin in a nod. “Are you here to see Trikki Vikki?”
“As a matter of fact, we are,” Vivian answered, trying to look at her eyes and not her nasty lip. “We saw her last night, too. She’s something else.”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Vivian held up her shot glass of beer. “I’m set. Thanks, though.”
Bitch 2 rubbed Vivian’s arm. “If you change your mind, let me know.”
Bitch 1 hit 2’s arm. “What the fuck are you doing? Flirting with this straight bitch right in front of me?”
Bitch 2 shoved her chair back, which fell over. “I’ll talk to whoever I want to talk to. What’s your problem?”
The bouncer was suddenly between them. “That’s it. You’re out.”
Bitch 1’s eyes flashed and she shoved her girth against him. “This is bullshit. We haven’t done anything. We bought our two stupid drinks.”
“Out.” The bouncer stood his ground and pointed to the front entrance.
Bitch 2 stormed off and Bitch 1 got in his face. “You’re messing with the wrong bitch.” She turned and walked out.
At the door, Bitch 1 broadsided a familiar face.
Adrienne shoved her back. “Watch where the fuck you’re goin’!”
The bouncer jumped between them and kept shoving the Bitches out the door. Al pulled another table and two chairs over to sit with Vivian and the girls.
“I can’t believe I’m in this place,” Adrienne said, inspecting the surroundings. “I feel like I should disinfect the seat.”
Lucy passed her an antibacterial wipe. “I used one, too.”
Adrienne took it and cleaned her hands. “Thanks, sugar.”
Vivian took in the sticky residue on their table and cringed, then hugged Adrienne’s neck. “So good to see y’all! Thanks for meeting us at this sleazy joint.”
Al smirked. “I’ve been in worse.” He looked up at the current feature on stage. “On second thought,” he joked.
The stripper was too thin, too drunk and too uncoordinated.
“I think she’s the in-between entertainment,” Kate said as she finished off her itty-bitty beer.
“We need something better goin’ on over here,” Al said, looking around for a server. She arrived and he ordered two bottles of champagne. “Don’t give me the cheap shit, either.”
After the waitress walked off, Wendy asked Al, “Any updates from your friends?”
“Word on the street is there is no word on the street. My guy that knows the lead detective on Simone Hitchens’ case got some info, but it’s nothing Antonio hasn’t told us.”
A man emerged from a metallic fringe curtain hanging near the back of the stage and sat down at the table the Bitches had vacated. Vivian immediately recognized him from the security video.