Chain of Fools by Steven Womack

Author:Steven Womack [Womack, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-77555-9
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2010-12-29T00:00:00+00:00

While the spotlight was still in her eyes, I switched tables, moving to one in the back corner that was shrouded in the shadow of a large planter filled with ferns.

I couldn’t watch her dance. My eyes scanned the crowd.

The men hooted and hollered and stomped their feet and shoved dollar bills at her. I stared into a watered-down Coke as the music pounded rhythmically like the jungle drums in some ancient black-and-white racist Tarzan epic. The strobes flashed and the colored lights slipped in and out of the edge of my vision like liquid.

It was over in what seemed to me a painfully long time, but was probably less than five minutes. That’s the way they do it in these places; keep things moving so the suckers don’t get bored. Let them get numb, get hard, get stoned, get stupid. But never let them get bored.

I looked up as she collected her lingerie and the dollar bills off the slick wooden stage floor. The disc jockey’s voice became a loud fuzzy blur. Off stage left, Corey walked down a few steps and disappeared to the side, clutching her clothes and the bills.

A few minutes later, she appeared once again, this time dressed, as far as it went, and with her hair combed neatly. I settled back in the chair as she worked the floor, hustling for a couch dance. The men weren’t buying; it was late and, besides, the babe now shaking her stuff on the stage was a real looker.

She came around from my right, polling each table, smiling demurely, flirting in an innocent, light way that she wouldn’t be able to invoke in another year or two.

Two tables over, a depressed-looking guy in a white Polo golf shirt and green polyester pants looked like he was going to take the offer. She bent down, practically spilling herself into his face, and chatted amiably for a few seconds. He smiled, reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. He held it open, discreetly checked the cash situation, then folded it closed and stuffed it back in his pants.

Corey smiled at him. She may have been disappointed, but she certainly didn’t bust his chops. Then she stood straight, chest out, and strutted over to the table where I held my head down to my drink, my eyes rolled up, barely looking at her.

“Hi,” she said, bending over to make herself heard over the music. “I’m Ventana. Would you like a—”

The smile disappeared from her face like a window closing as I lifted my head.

“I thought you didn’t hang around in places like this.”

“Sit down,” I said. “Please.”

“I’m new here,” she said. “They expect me to hustle.”

“I know,” I said. “I’ve been looking for you all night and I’m out of cash. Can’t you sit for a minute?”

She pulled out the black chrome-and-vinyl chair and slid in next to me. “What do you think you’re doing, Harry?”

“Trying to find a very sick girl,” I said.

That caught her off guard.

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