The Jewel Box (9 page)

A week later at Gabriel’s suggestion, the same foursome wound up at a matinee showing of
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
. Gabriel’s dark moustache wasn’t as long and wild as Redford’s and his blond hair wasn’t as tousled, but other facial characteristics made me feel like I was sandwiched between two versions of the delicious Sundance Kid.

Beau demanded punctuality from waitresses, so I rushed the others from theater to the club where the four of us sat around talking until I was forced to work for a living. After waiting on a few customers, I hurried back to the table just as a new dancer, Sugar Box, was dragging a chair between Teddy Bear and Al. Almost as pretty as Teddy Bear, this loud mouthed, thigh slapping, long legged dancer with ebony eyes and blazing black hair didn’t use seductive behavior to make her money. When it came
time for her to dance, she darted from the table and chose
Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay
for her dance routine. Sugar Box blackened two teeth and turned her gimme cap backwards, before sitting on the little stage with slouched shoulders and a fishing pole in hand, acting out her rendition of Mr. Redding’s words. She dramatically peered into the crowd while Otis sang of watching the ships roll in, and slowly bobbed her head until he began whistling, at which time she loudly but pathetically whistled along.

Taking outstretched dollars and drink offers from men as she made her way back to our table, Sugar Box sat unladylike, spreading one leg on the back of Al’s chair and the other on a vacant chair. “Lovely.” I frowned.

“Gotta air my crotch,” Sugar Box said, then told a joke so vulgar it even brought a blush to Gabriel’s tan face. Al bought her a drink. She poured it down her throat. “Buy two more so you don’t have to keep dragging out your wallet.” Al complied and Teddy Bear daintily sipped her Kool-Aid cocktail, trying not to show her irritation. On Sugar Box’s fifth cocktail, she began telling Al about her ex-husband who had the largest love bugle she’d ever been blessed to blow. That’s when Teddy Bear stormed away from the table. Ten minutes later, Sugar Box took off to make money elsewhere, and Al went gloomy on us. “For Christ’s sakes, man.” Gabriel punched his shoulder. “That one’s probably seen more penises than a first year urology resident.”

Crude Sugar Box was incorrigible, but smart enough to sell more cocktails every night than most dancers combined. Lord only knows how much she made in dancing tips, and in a few weeks she was gone with the wind.

Teddy Bear never went to another lunch or movie, but her participation spawned a practice that soon became Al’s calling card. Gabriel and I were elected chaperones each time Mr. Looking For Love In All The Wrong Places fell in heat. As a foursome we saw countless movies and often shared lunch, with Gabriel keeping his impeccable manners thing going—along with his finger into untouched rolls routine. I never got over the sensation derived from our mouth-to-mouth kiss, but had a new kinship with him. We definitely shared an attraction to the inappropriate and a sense of reckless impulse.

Even though her tenure lasted longer than most, when Teddy Bear departed, Al turned Father Flanagan and befriended a dancer who was a major contrast to the sexy nursing student. With a pathetic, downcast
face and glum expressions that ran the gamut from mourning to despair, Rosemary could have made a living doubling as a bloodhound in Disney movies. Gabriel nicknamed this repugnant goddess of grime, “Rosemary Rotten-crotch.” Her stringy dishwater blonde hair always looked dirty, her acne covered face qualified as a
before
photo for Clearasil ads, and poor Rosemary radiated gag-inducing body odor.

“She’s uglier than a twenty dollar mule and smells like she slops pigs before coming to work,” Gabriel said, swigging his Budweiser at the bar.

“I doubt any farmer would hire her to slop hogs, but every evening around midnight there’s plenty of men in this joint willing to spend money on her.” Beau stacked bar napkins.

“Yeah, like Al.” I grabbed some stir straws. “After too many drinks, he gets real chummy. That’s why Gabriel leaves the table and comes up here.”

“That old bastard better not suggest an outing with this verminous creature. This one’s an infectious disease just waiting to happen. I swear I saw a fly land on her the other night and instantly drop dead.” Gabriel polished off his beer.

I pursed my lips in a little moue of distaste, something I learned from Mother. “Al just feels sorry for her, that’s why he slips her ten bucks to dance to Stevie Wonder’s music.”

“Hell, I love Stevie Wonder, but I’ll give her fifty—make that a hundred—not to dance at all.” He nodded at Beau for a refill.

“Behave.” I pinched Gabriel’s arm. “Al’s being humane instead of horny, for a change.”

“I’m glad Al gives her money.” Beau slid Gabe his beer. “Otherwise I’d have to pad her drink sales. She’s the only dancer not breaking a hundred every night.”

“Cause she can’t get near anyone without causing them to puke,” Gabriel said.

“Baby, can you and Laura give her some deodorant and toothpaste?” Beau pulled a twenty from the register and handed it to me. “Maybe school her on hygiene?”

“We can try, but installing a shower might work better.”

Other than dancing to the trio of songs by Stevie for Al’s payoff, Rosemary repeatedly danced to
Love Grows Where My Rosemary Goes
.
Without fail, when the Edison Lighthouse song began to flow from the jukebox, Gabriel turned his back to the stage or headed to the men’s room, saying he had to go puke his guts out.

As fickle as other dancers, Rosemary soon skedaddled from the Jewel Box and was replaced by “Annie Oakley,” who had aptly named herself, much to Gabriel’s chagrin. Moseying around with a lightweight rope she utilized to lasso customers, Annie desperately tried to look the part, pulling her long, reddish brown hair into braids and wearing western garb, complete with cheap boots and spurs. Her western hat was black felt with a cord that pulled around her face and locked with a wooden bead under her chin. Hardly the style worn by true cowgirls, but she was damn proud of it, and constantly shifted the bead to lift the hat and tip her head at men as they walked through the club. Annie had knock-knees and Howdy-Doodie gap teeth that caused her to whistle when she spoke, but the feature men often commented on was her eyes. Even though she wore thick Coke bottle type glasses to correct her vision, she constantly squinted to see her surroundings. Every time she went on stage, men moved their chairs back in fear of being injured during her attempts to display her roping abilities. Laura and I had to clean up many a broken glass behind Annie before she ended her Jewel Box stint. We didn’t miss her one bit.

Gabriel and Al celebrated my twenty-third birthday at the club with me, and Al got so drunk you’d have thought it was his special day. Gabriel practically carried him out, then came back inside and walked up behind me at the waitress station. “Wanna go see
M*A*S*H
?” he asked, his breath flowing into my hair.

“Does Al have a new love?” I stepped back.

“Not yet. You just like movies so much, I figured maybe I could pick you up on Sunday and we could venture out alone. If you don’t have plans.”

“I usually groom my beard that day.” I looked over at Beau’s ear bending our direction. “But if you don’t mind unruly facial hair, I’ll go.” No Al with his flavor of the week. Just us. Sounded like fun.

After our first solo Sunday and Gabriel meeting my sister’s family, it soon turned into a regular event. Gabriel drove to West Houston, picked up Nikki and me at Ellen’s, took us for lunch or ice cream, and then dropped Nikki back while we went to a movie. During those months he got to know my sister and her husband—who thought he was a fairly swell guy for a philanderer. Yes. They questioned our relationship, asking how his wife felt about it. I repeated Gabriel’s explanation: Astrid demanded time alone and didn’t give a rat’s ass about his whereabouts. His marital status didn’t seem germane to our friendship.

Al’s next love was a short and sassy dancer named Betty, whose ear hugging, fluffed up bob of brightly tinted red hair noticeably contrasted her black, inch long, false eyelashes. For several nights she completely ignored the partners because of their attire, but when she noticed Al was a big spender she was all over him like stink on you-know-what. The partners nicknamed her “Red,” and of course Al fell head over heels for her, saying she exuded sexiness. Gabriel said, “Al wouldn’t know sexy if it stung him on the scrotum and left a calling card in his crack.”

“Gotta admit her turned up nose and pouty lips are fetching.” I accentuated her positives.

“But only Bozo can pull off that god-awful red hair color.” Gabriel shook his head.

“I can’t believe Al fell for her haughty demeanor.”

“Hell, how can he stand her abrasive voice? It cuts straight through my shoulder blades every time she laughs.”

Betty (now dubbed, Red) walked around the club in a tube top, skin tight mini skirt, and six inch stilettos, holding her purse as though she had the Hope Diamond inside. She constantly flashed her fake smile while holding her head high and slightly tilted to one side like she expected the paparazzi to snap her photo at any time. Pretty snooty attitude for someone working in a topless club. But maybe that’s what rang Al’s bell. Old love stricken Al spent a small fortune on her, but she still refused to go out with him, even with Gabriel and me as chaperones.

After weeks of Al practically getting on his knees and begging for a date, Red agreed to let him move her into her new apartment. “Al has butt blemishes older than this girl, but he’s trying to get a piece of ass and now I’m roped into helping him move her goddamned furniture,” Gabriel complained. “The old bastards’ hornier than a broke-dick dog.”

“Where do you get these weird aphorisms?”

“Shakespeare,” he answered.

“You my friend, are strange.”

“Me? Take a gander at my partner who’d give his left nut to make that conceited bitch happy. We should’ve never started the lunch and movie bullshit.”

“At least that creepy caterpillar finally crawled off his upper lip. Your moustache is fetching, but his was. . .” I stuck my finger in my mouth to replicate regurgitation.

On Saturday the guys came to the club after the move, Gabriel looking thoroughly put out, and Al smiling like we were giving away free beer and growth hormones.

“What’s with Al, did Red let him kiss her elbow or something?”

“No.” Gabriel frowned. “The crazy fucker talked her into having breakfast with him tomorrow morning so he can get more sexually frustrated. Naturally we have to go along.” He looked at me, a broad beam shining from his eyes. “But that’s okay… I’ll get to see you earlier than usual. Just don’t make me look at her disgusting face so early in the day.”

“You can look at me.” I winked. “But I might dye my hair bright red for tomorrow.”

“Don’t make me puke. Speaking of hair, aren’t you doing something different to yours lately?”

“Letting it grow back to its natural champagne blonde with only highlights from the sun.”

“Yeaaah?” He pulled a smoke from his shirt pocket. “I kinda liked that platinum color.”

“Oh pleeease. That snow white shade is fine for dark clubs and Hollywood, but in the real world it tends to draw a lot of attention. Cat calls from choir boys and that sort of thing.”

“Ye watchers and ye holy ones, Bright seraphs, cer-u-bim,” he sang.

I rarely got to bed before three-thirty in the morning after washing my smoke permeated skin and hair until the water ran clear, and I usually slept late due to exhaustion and my nightly dose of Phenapen (no longer needed for pain, just sleep). Still, I was looking forward to an eleven a.m. breakfast. Up before nine, I primped longer than usual, wanting to look my best, and when Gabriel arrived at Charles and Ellen’s I was reading
One Fish, Two Fish
to Nikki. Being around him out of the Jewel Box was a nice treat and I appreciated how he overlooked where we had met, treating me as though we were introduced at a church social. Okay, maybe more like a truck pull, but he treated me special and it seemed we’d known each other since we were in diapers. I knew we wouldn’t be dining at the Ritz, but had dressed appropriately for a public setting, wearing a tasteful lime green sundress (suitable for church social or truck pull).