The Ninth Caller Ch 08

"Holy fuck, look what the cat dragged in," Fred cried as he watched Ricky walk through the front door of The Dollhouse. It was late in the afternoon, and the club was largely deserted at this hour, but a few regulars were starting to trickle in. Ricky, until recently, had been one of those regulars. "I haven't seen your mangy ass in here for months." He grinned, and added, "I thought maybe you got religion and gave up women for the baby Jesus."

"Hardly!" Ricky exclaimed as he climbed up onto the barstool. "I have just..., well, I have been away."

"Bullshit!" Fred said. "You ain't been nowhere. I have seen you around town. Damn boy, you are always working." He smirked, and said, "No matter your reason, though. I am just glad you're back." He laughed as he added, "and God knows, the girls have missed you. You always were a good tipper. I bet you got a fistful of ones in your wranglers, just itching to be thrown at the feet of some of the beauties."

"Yeah," Ricky said as he looked down at the bar. "Something like that."

"So..., what'll it be? Wild Turkey, straight up? That's your usual, right?"

"I think I will just have a coke today."

"What?" Fred cried as he opened his mouth wide in mock shock. "Holy Jesus it must be a sign of the coming rapture. You? A coke? Are you kidding?"

"No, just a coke."

"Hey, Ricky," Fred said as he smiled. "You know a coke is 10 bucks, right? Same as a shot of bourbon."

"Damn, you're a crook," Ricky said with a smile. "Well, for that money, lighten up on the ice will ya?"

"You got it, boss," Fred said. "And for your information, I am no crook. I know the drinks are expensive, but, I gotta make money, you know. I can't have a bunch of horny fuckers in here nursing their drinks all night as they get their jollies watching the Titty show."

"But, I thought you got a cut of the girl's tips?"

"You don't know how the strip club business works, do you?" Fred said. "The girls keep all their tips. I only make money on the drinks, and the small fee I charge them for the use of the space."

"I had no idea," Ricky said. "No wonder these drinks are so expensive," he said, before adding with a grin, "you thieving bastard."

"So, you sure you don't want your Wild Turkey after all?" Fred said. "I hate seeing you waste your money on a watered-down coke. As a longtime customer, I can give you half off on the first round."

"Maybe later, but...," Ricky stammered.

"Ah..., I get it," Fred nodded. "You giving up the sauce are you? I know the signs."

"Yeah."

"Admirable," Fred said. "Very admirable. Look, I will cut you some slack and only charge you $2.50 for the cokes. I kicked booze myself a few years back, so I know how it is."

"Thanks man," Ricky said. "It is a struggle, those fucking —"

"—Clicks?"

"Clicks!" Ricky exclaimed. "You understand then!"

"Damn straight. Squelching down those clicks is a mother fucker."

"How in the fuck do you do it here?" Ricky said as he raised his eyebrow and pointed at the line of liquor bottles on the bar behind him. "With all this booze around?"

"Ah..., that is the secret, Ricky," Fred said. "I conquered my demons and make them work for me. I found that having the stuff near me, but still resisting, keeps me strong. You know, that which doesn't kill me —,"

"Makes me stronger! That's what Ti..., I mean, that's what a friend of mine told me. He is struggling with addiction too."

"Obviously, your friend is a wise man," Fred said. "Now, I know all those AA types claim different. They say to just avoid temptation at all costs, but, that doesn't work for everyone. God knows, it did not work for me. But, we all have to find our own path."

Ricky started to speak, but turned to the door as it swung open. Harsh, late afternoon sun streamed into the dark interior, as a young man stomped inside.

"Hey what does a guy have to do to get a drink around here!" Billy barked as he walked inside and sat down at the other end of the bar.

"Be right with you, boy!" Fred snapped as he glared over at his abrupt, and new, customer. He paused as he looked Billy up and down, and said, "Hey, you got some ID on you? You don't look old enough to be in here."

Billy smiled, opened his wallet and passed him his driver's license. "Sure thing, bartender. I got it right here, all nice and legal." He smirked, and added, "so..., when does the pussy show start."

Fred glanced at his license before returning it. "The next set starts in just a few minutes, but, let me finish up with this customer, and I will get right to you."

"It's OK, Fred," Ricky said as he winked and pointed at Billy. "He looks anxious to see some titties. Why don't you get that boy a drink. You remember how it was when we were his age."

Fred smiled as he glanced over at Billy. "Yeah, he probably hasn't see too many naked ladies that ain't pixelated, so I am sure he is anxious to finally get a gander at the real thing for once."

"I seen plenty," Billy snapped. "But I am especially interested in seeing your new dancer. I heard you have a new skank performing here tonight."

"Hey, you little bastard," Fred glowered as he leaned over the bar and came nose to nose with Billy. Each one of Fred's fists were the size of a canned ham and now were lifted up in a threatening gesture in front of his Billy's jaw. As his eyes narrowed, Fred's face flushed as he fought the urge to punch the arrogant little asshole in the face. "You are gonna be a problem. I can see that. The ladies that work here demand your respect, bastard! If you can't get that through your hormonally charged skull, then you can just get the fuck out of here right now. I don't put up with no bullshit in here."

"Sorry," Billy said as he voice dropped. "I guess I am just a bit anxious."

"First time at a strip club?" Ricky asked, trying to cut the sudden escalation in tension.

"No, but, I heard a..., friend of mine is starting tonight. I thought I would come check her out."

"Can you imagine?" Ricky laughed as he looked over at Fred. "The boy here knows one of the dancers. I bet we would have traded our left nuts to check out some of the girls we went to school with if we found out they were strippers."

"Some of them were, Ricky," Fred said with a laugh.

"No shit? Who?"

"You remember Becky Smith? You went to school with her, right?"

"Holy fuck, she had some massive melons on her. I would have blown my whole paycheck just to motorboat those babies."

"Listen grandpa," Billy barked. "I think it's great you two are perving down memory lane, but my interest in this..., friend is kind of personal."

"So, my obnoxious little shit," Fred said. "Who's your friend?"

"Angie Lynn Bailey."

"What a small world," Ricky cried. "I just moved her in to an apartment today."

"Clover Hill, I suppose?" Fred said.

"How did you guess," Ricky answered with a wink. "I hope she earns some money quick. That girl got nothing. Just a bunch of broken down, goodwill furniture."

"That place is always a popular choice with my girls, especially newcomers," Fred said as he smirked. "So..., that explains why you decided to stop by today. Angie Lynn is a hottie. I could see that when she auditioned. No doubt she will earn more than enough dough to furnish that shit hole up nice in no time." His eyes narrowed, as he added, "Now it makes sense. Being around that tight young thing got you all worked up, and you wanted to stop by and get a look at her goods. You old pervy dog!"

"Woof," Ricky said with a laugh. "Don't forget, you make your money on us perves, you know."

"God bless you horny bastards," Fred said.

"So it seems like you guys know Angie Lynn," Billy said as his face tightened. "I figured she'd end up here. Seems like I bet right."

"Yeah, she just started today," Fred said. "So I guess your wet dreams are going to come true, boy. You are going to get to see your dream girl naked and in the flesh."

"She's not my dream girl, bud," Billy said. "But I definitely have some unfinished business to attend to with her."

Fred leaned forward, and stared into Billy's eyes again, and said, "listen..., if you think you are going to get any real action here, you are a fucking retard. She is a dancer, not a whore." He sneered as he added, "and she seems like a smart girl too, so I doubt she would give you any pussy anyway."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Billy snapped. "So, when does she go on?"

"Soon, Darla has the next set."

"Darla still dancing?" Ricky said.

"Yeah," Fred said. "She's the best."

"Well...," Billy said. "I will wait for Angie Lynn. So, about that drink."

"Yes. So, what'll it be?"

"A bottle of PBR."

"Eight dollars please," Fred said.

"Eight dollars! For Pabst Blue Ribbon! Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Hey, if you don't like it, you can get your ass out of here," Fred snarled. "In fact, why don't you just leave anyway. I don't like the look of you. I can tell you are going to give my dancers trouble."

"Hey, Fred," Ricky said as he slid a twenty across the bar. "Ease up on the kid. He just is letting his balls rule his head. God knows, we all have had that problem before. He's got pussy on the brain."

"Yeah...," Fred said as he cast a dark eye towards Billy. He reached down into the refrigerator under the bar and pulled out a bottle of PBR, and set it in front of Billy. "OK, boy, here you go. You are lucky that Ricky over there is buying, so you should thank him. But remember..., I am watching you. You get out of line one inch and I will toss your ass out so fast it will make your head spin."

"I won't cause any problems. I promise," Billy said as he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a sip. He turned to Ricky and said, "thanks man."

"Think nothing of it. I was young and horny too, once."

"Now you are just old and horny," Fred interrupted with a great big barrel chest laugh.

Ricky, Fred and Billy turned towards the stage as the sounds of Steve Perry's voice filled the club over the sound system. "Oh Sherrie, our love, holds on, holds on."

Billy's face dropped and he said, "Jesus, Gramps, you got anything other than this dinosaur music to play for the strippers?"

Ricky threw his head back hard and laughed as he downed his coke. "The boy's got your number, Fred!"

*****

Frank sighed as his rented Lexus turned the corner on the small mountain road and McKee Kentucky came fully into view. The town, or what was left of it, looked tired and it matched the fatigue in his bones. There had been no direct flights from New York to Lexington, the closest airport, and he ended up missing his connection in Atlanta. This cascaded into a five-hour layover in that 9th circle of hell that is Hartsfield-Jackson airport. There were not enough Cinnabons in the world to make that hassle worth it. Finally, after catching a standby for coach, which he hated, he endured a bumpy and uncomfortable hop into Lexington — late. He was lucky to snag the last luxury car from Avis. If he had had to endure a 96 Impala, the only other care available, he might have decided to end it all right there.

Even after all of this, he had another hour and a half to go, but at least now, the sight of his rundown hometown showed his journey was at an end. McKee was exactly as he remembered it. In decline and accelerating in its descent and way the fuck off of the beaten path. The sight of the beaten down clapboard houses, abandoned stores, and plethora of "for sale" signs in almost every yard caused every bad vibe he ever had about the place to hum in his stomach like an agitated hive of angry bees. He definitely left this town for a reason, and the memories of why flooded over him like an icy January rain.

That said, he couldn't complain about the actual weather, though. The day was gorgeous, if hot, and not a cloud was in the sky. The sun was just setting over the mountains, and the golden haze of the late August sky filtered through the cool overhanging branches hugging the narrow road. If the town wasn't such a hopeless shithole, he might even have thought it looked "pretty".

"This is just lovely," Sofia said from the passenger seat.

"Looks are deceiving," Frank said.

"But just look at those mountains, though. With the sun just setting behind them, it reminds me of Romania. It must have been wonderful to grow up here."

Frank grunted an acknowledgement of her comment, but, where she saw only the natural beauty of the deep green Appalachian Mountains and the idyllic rural setting, he saw nothing but decay. As they passed by yet another boarded up storefront, something in his gut twinged. It had been twenty years since he had returned to his hometown, and it was dying then, just like a mortally wounded deer, when he had last left. Now, decades later, a casual glance through his windshield told him nothing had changed the trajectory of the village's prospects. If anything, the slope of their descent into the abyss had gotten steeper and jets had been strapped onto the rocket ship racing them into the ground.

He and Sofia continued driving in silence for a few more minutes as they drove into McKee proper. Now actually within the city limits, he realized it was even worse than he remembered. The large Leggett department store his late mother took him to buy a suit for graduation when he was a kid had been turned into a K-Mart on his last visit. Now, the fading and broken Dollar Tree sign over the entrance showed that even the K-Mart had been too high brow. A large, and obviously aged, "Going out of Business" placard hung in the broken window. A sad and pitiful end.

"Jeesh, if you can't even keep a Dollar Tree open, you are in trouble," Frank said.

"What? What was that?" Sofia asked.

"Oh, nothing," he answered as he continued to drive.

When the passed his old elementary school, now a charred burned out ruin, his spirits sank even lower. He learned from the news his school had caught fire ten years earlier and was surprised, but not shocked, to find out the town didn't even have the funds to haul the wreckage away. Now, like a great unhealed scar, this ultimate sign of collapse stood watch on the hill overlooking the town. Like so many of the golden dreams of the children it once educated, it was now nothing but ruined garbage.

"It looks like McKee has seen better days," Sofia said. "Now it really does feel like my native Romania!"

"Ceausescu couldn't have done a more thorough job destroying this town if he tried."

"Hey, it's not that bad?" Sofia said. "Trust me, I have seen much worse."

Frank smiled as he glanced over at her.

"How much farther to the Hotel?" Sofia asked as she yawned.

"Motel — if we are lucky," Frank answered. When he heard her yawn, and saw her lean back in her chair, propping her bare feet up on the dashboard, he smiled. Her earthy Romanian beauty and long lickable legs and toes, now shown to him fully as she lounged next to him, made this depressing trip down memory lane worth it. "I appreciate you coming with me, Sofia. I apologize for giving you such a hard time back in New York."

"Hey, no problem, Frank," she answered. "I need to see this through. Never have the spirits been so forceful."

"Have you sensed anything since we have arrived?"

"No, not yet. But..., the evening is young."

Spotting her peasant dress slide up to her thighs, Frank smiled even wider. "Yes..., the evening is young."

*****

Darla smiled as she watched Angie Lynn finish her set. Like a mother hen watching her chick leave the nest, she swelled with pride as she watched Angie Lynn dance. The girl was a natural. Not only was she gorgeous, all of the girls at The Dollhouse were pretty, a base requirement in the exotic dancing profession, but she had moves. That cannot be taught, and a pretty girl flopping around like a wounded seal would not make much money.

For twenty minutes, Angie Lynn had writhed across the stage as if she had been doing this work all of her life. Her long legs, full breasts and cock hardening figure had whipped the crowd up into a frenzy. Seeing the wads of cash thrown on stage by the obviously aroused patrons, Darla knew her protégé was making a ton of money.

"Looks like your girl is raking it in tonight," Raylene said as she adjusted her bra and prepared to take the stage.

"She certainly is," Darla said. She smiled as she added, "I don't know if she is going to leave any money for us!"

"Beyotch!" Raylene laughed. "Damn, she got those redneck boys eating out of the palm of her hand."

"I bet that isn't the only thing they want to eat," Darla said. "That one boy up front sure has been attentive."

"That young guy?" Raylene said as she pointed out to Billy. "Yeah, he seems to be set on a pussy mission tonight." She shook her head and laughed, "Man, is he is barking up the wrong tree."

"He ain't too bad looking, though," Darla said as she narrowed her eyes and looked at him. "I certainly wouldn't kick him out of my bed."

"I always knew you were a cougar. He barely looks out of his teens."

"Growl!" Darla said as she laughed. "I like my cubbies young."

"Well, on the other end of that spectrum, did you notice that Ricky is here tonight?"

"No, really?" Darla said as she scanned the crowd looking for his face. "He hasn't been in here for months. He was always a good tipper. Hell, I think he was primarily responsible for me paying off my truck. God knows, I could use some cash to cover my payments on the new flatscreen."

"Well, I hope you have a plan B, cause I saw he was tossing quite a few ones at your girl there."

Darla and Raylene laughed as the last notes of Rick Springfield's "Jessie's Girl" faded. Angie Lynn rushed back stage, her eyes welling up with tears as she stormed pass the two.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Darla said.

"Nothing, nothing at all," Angie Lynn said as she choked down a sob and continued towards the dressing room.

"Now, don't be bullshitting me," Darla said as she reached out and grabbed Angie Lynn's arm. "You are crying."

"I am not. I..., I just need to pee."

"Bullshit! You are crying. Your makeup is starting to run, so there is no sense denying it," Darla said as she turned Angie Lynn around to face her. "You really have nothing to cry about. You did great!"

"Yeah," Raylene added. "If anyone should be crying, it should be us," she added as she pointed to Darla. "You took all those boy's cash. There won't be anything left for us."

"Well, I don't know if I am going to be able to continue to do this," Angie Lynn said.

"What?" Darla said. "It has only been your first night, and hell, you cleaned up. How much money did you make?"

Angie Lynn pulled the wad of cash out of her G-String and started counting. "It looks like maybe $200?"

"Two hundred dollars in one set! Fuck me stone cold stupid," Raylene laughed. "You ain't going to quit. I won't let you." She smiled kindly as she reached over and playfully giggled Angie Lynn's left breast. "Girl, you got the goods — and the moves. If I still had titties like you, and could move like that, I wouldn't let no one stop me. You have to make the cash while you can."

"Did someone bother you?" Darla said. "I noticed that young guy seemed to keep calling you over."

"Yeah...," Angie Lynn said as she looked down at her feet. "We have a sort of..., well, a bad history. He said all kind of shit to me, and then took pictures of me while I was dancing. Said he was going to make sure all of my friends found out what a whore I was now if I didn't cooperate with him."

"Oh he did, did he?" Raylene said as she stepped forward and looked out into the audience. "That guy over there, the young guy sitting up front? He's kinda hot!"

"Yeah, well, with that hotness comes a big heaping helping of asshole."

"What's the fuckers name?" Raylene said. "I will go have Fred toss his ass right out if he is bothering you. We can't let these dickheads come in here and start —"