Reciprocity

“Well, what do you want?”
Mike picked up his chopsticks and awkwardly situated them between his fingers, wondered if Japanese actually ate their food with such an impractical utensil. Mike thought that maybe the chopsticks were just a part of some conspiracy, that the waiters and waitresses just put them out so they could laugh at their patrons, especially buttoned down, conservative types like Mike. Mike knew that he didn’t look the part of comedic foil, that his ironed, collared shirt and pleated khakis made him feel inconspicuous in most company. Most of the time Mike blended in just fine, nodded when he was supposed to nod, smiled when it was appropriate, threw in a disaffected laugh every now and then. But this wasn’t most of the time. Now Mike was dealing with Bobby, and one thing Bobby could see through, had always seen through, was bullshit.
“I guess I’m not that much different from anyone else,” Mike said. “I want a good job, a good woman, a nice hou...”
“No, I mean what do you want to eat. I hate to keep a lady waiting.”
Mike looked up from his chopsticks and saw a petite Asian lady standing next to the table with a patient, but amused smile on her face. Mike could feel his cheeks heating up and he grinned painfully at the waitress. Bobby watched Mike fumble with his menu and Mike let out an “uhmm” and a “let’s see here” before Bobby took control of the situation, like Bobby always did, always had.
“I think we need a few more minutes to check out the menu,” Bobby said, looking the waitress in the eye, smiling confidently. “I do know that we need some drinks, though. I’d like a Miller Lite, a shot of sake, and I think my buddy would like the same, if his tastes are still the same. We haven’t talked for weeks and this is the first time we’ve actually been out together in months. Can you believe that? Months.”
The waitress smiled back at Bobby and scribbled on her notepad. Bobby winked at Mike and took a sip of his water. Mike perked up like he was going to say something and Bobby stopped him before he could get out word one.
“On second thought,” Bobby said, “I think we’d like a couple TsingTao’s instead of the Miller Lite’s.”
The waitress made a couple quick scratches in her notebook and walked away before Mike could voice his disagreement with the drink order. Mike finally found his voice a few seconds later, even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good.
“You’re going to have to drink that stuff yourself,” Mike said.
“What, you don’t like sake? And TsingTao, that’s not bad beer. I mean, I know Miller Lite is usually your brand, but I figured when in Rome...”
“No, what I’m saying is that I don’t drink anymore. I haven’t touched a drop in six months.”

Bobby looked at Mike like he had just farted out loud.
“What? Why, did you have a problem with it or something?”
Mike shook his head and laughed.
“No, nothing like that. I just started working out, eating right, trying to take care of myself. You know.”
Bobby hesitated a moment and then a Cheshire smile grew on his face and he nodded knowingly.
“Oh yeah, you said you’ve been seeing a girl, right? So what are you a Vegan now or something?”
“No,” Mike said. “I mean, she is, but I told her that I would have to work into that part.”
Bobby laughed as the waitress set the sake and the beers on the table and walked off again, apparently sensing that the two ex-compatriots still weren’t ready to order. Bobby took a slow drink of the TsingTao and gave Mike a steely look, assessing him. Probing him.
“Does this girl have a name?” Bobby asked.
“Sarah. Didn’t I tell you that over the phone?” Mike said.
“You might have, I don’t remember. Tell me a little bit about her. What’s she like?”
Mike took a deep breath and thought about what he should say. Mike felt nervous even though he had given the same spiel to his parents and frat brothers about how great Sarah was, how just being around her made him a better person. But repeating that whole recital seemed fake now, seemed like something that Bobby would tear to shreds. Mike decided to keep it short, simple.
“Oh, she’s great. Awesome. Really got her shit together.”
Mike regretted that last statement the second it left his lips.
“And that’s important to you?” Bobby asked.
“What?”
“Having her shit together. Do you guys have a five-year plan or a ten-year plan or whatever it is that young yuppies have nowadays? Did she already pick out the ring? Two months salary or some bullshit like that, right?”
Mike shook his head in frustration and set his glass down.
“See, I knew it was going to be like this. Just because I‘ve found somebody, you can‘t stand it. Why can’t you just be happy for me?”
Bobby acted like he didn’t even hear Mike’s complaint. “Let me guess; you guys just happened to go into the jewelry store one day. Then you see her looking at a row of engagement rings. And all of them are way out of your price range. And then you ask her what she’s looking at and she says “oh nothing” and you say, “no really” and she just casually mentions that she really likes that ring, but it’s so expensive and she would like anything as long as it came from you, but her eyes are really saying, “You’ll buy me this one if you’re not a cheap asshole and if you ever want to get laid after you say “I do”.
Mike laughed, but his neck felt hot and his gut was churning and he felt like just walking out of the restaurant, away from Bobby’s sickening smile and chopsticks that weren’t practical in the least, away from everyone that was waiting for the opportunity to laugh at him, waiting for Mike to fuck up. Mike gave a hard look down at the glass of sake, then picked it up and downed it in one quick gulp. He slammed down the sake glass and then chased the burn with the beer, cold and thin and grainy. Bobby laughed and held out his own bottle and Mike tapped it, started to feel the warmth in his gut and the haze in his brain. Just like riding a bike.
“Cheers,” Bobby said, then nailed his own glass of sake.
“Cheers to what?” Mike asked.
“Cheers to us having fun tonight, man. Just like old times.”
Mike smiled weakly and took another long drink of his beer. Bobby gave Mike the thumbs up and a wink and waved over the waitress, told her that they were finally ready to order. And, oh yeah, a couple more beers, please. Mike sighed and knew he was in for a long night.

Let’s do this
“This is my buddy Mike,” Bobby said, motioning for the girls to come closer. Mike squinted and waited for the girls to come into focus, the sake and TsingTao proving formidable opponents in the fight for coherency. Mike forgot about the girls for a moment and looked around the club, felt the throbbing bass beats, breathed deep the palpable ambiance. Mike tried to remember the last two hours, but the only clear thought in his mind was the name of the beer he had been drinking. TsingTao. Mike snickered to himself and did his best imitation of a guttural Japanese warlord under his breath. TsingTaoooooow.
“Earth to Mike,” Bobby said, still smiling and not at all embarrassed by Mike’s drunken eccentricities. Mike had almost forgotten about that aspect of their relationship, how he could do anything stupid or silly or salacious and Bobby would just laugh and roll right along with him into the abyss. Mike hadn’t realized the rarity of true loyalty and felt deeply touched at that moment, even amidst the debauchery that surrounded him; the poles with women slithering up and down them, the men surrounding the multiple stages armed with one dollar bills.
Mike finally looked up and took notice of the two girls Bobby had called to their table. A blonde with full lips and sleepy eyes was already sitting on Bobby’s lap, leaning over and whispering in Bobby’s ear. The other girl, a svelte beauty with thick, curly red hair and sharp green eyes, was standing right in front of Mike with her hand extended to him. Mike took her hand and it was soft and she offered no resistance when Mike gently pulled her towards him and she sat down on his lap. Mike leaned in towards the girl‘s ear, the alcohol combined with Bobby’s contagious confidence buffering Mike’s usual awkwardness.
“Hi, I’m Mike,” he said, still holding the girl’s hand.
“Vanessa,” the girl said, letting go of Mike’s hand and wrapping her arm around his shoulder. Mike felt a tingle move down his spine and it flowed all the way down to his toes. Mike let out a thin shiver and all of a sudden his drunkenness was gone and he felt his normal self ready to take control again. Mike looked at Vanessa and she grinned knowingly at him and Mike decided that he would not allow himself to revert back to the part he usually played of a middling, passionless suburbanite. Not tonight. Mike leaned towards Vanessa again and whispered the first thing that came to mind.
“I like your freckles.”
Mike looked down at Vanessa’s shoulder and she did too and then they both looked up and into each other’s eyes. Vanessa’s freckles were light, but they were there and Mike couldn’t tell if she was blushing or not in the club’s darkness.
“That’s a first,” Vanessa said, her fingernails moving slowly in rhythm back and forth on Mike’s back. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” Mike said. “They make you unique. Special.”
Vanessa looked at Mike a little warily. Mike leaned towards the table, grabbed his old familiar Miller Lite and took a long drink. Liquid courage.
“So how many times a night do you get hit on?”
“Quite a few,” she said. “I’m fairly new here, so I think I get it a little more than the other girls. I think your line was the best, though.”
“I’m honored. But I was just making an observation. I couldn‘t pick up a woman as pretty as you without clubbing her in the head.”
Mike knew how dumb that sounded on several different levels. The self-pity mixed with a vague reference to violence. Smooth. Mike didn’t really care, though. He couldn’t believe he had gone so long without getting drunk, that he had denied himself such a simple pleasure. Sarah might not like it, but from now on Mike decided he would have a few drinks at least once a month. Maybe once a week.
“You’re being silly,” Vanessa said. She put her hand on Mike’s head and mussed his hair playfully. “You might consider a different haircut, maybe something spiky, something a little more daring.” She lifted Mike’s chin and looked appraisingly at his face. “I love your eyes, though. I’m a sucker for those bright, blue eyes.”
Mike was skeptical. In all the time he had been with Sarah, she had never mentioned liking his eyes. Sarah was always telling Mike what he could improve on, how he could become better, about all the potential he had. Mike could never remember Sarah saying anything good about what he was now, without having to add or accessorize. Drunk as he was with a stripper sitting on his lap, that thought weighed on Mike heavily.
“I’m thinking about getting engaged,” Mike blurted out. Mike felt like he was slipping away from everything he had built the past months and was grasping for something, anything to bring him back to reality.
“Congratulations,” Vanessa said. “When are you going to pop the question?”
“I’m not sure. I thought about doing it next week, maybe take her out to dinner, do it between the main course and dessert.”
“That sounds nice.”
“I thought so, too. Now I’m not so sure, though.”
“Why not?”
Mike pointed towards Bobby, who was whispering in the blonde’s ear and she seemed to be eating it up.
“It’s him. I’ve only been home for a few hours and already he’s got me doubting myself. Around him my world turns upside down.”
Vanessa patted Mike on his head and then moved her hand down the back of his neck and started rubbing it, her thumb and forefinger kneading slowly.
“Well, I think you should do it,” she said. “I mean, you love her, she loves you, what else is there, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Vanessa smiled and Mike shifted underneath her. She paused with her neck rub when he did, but started in again as soon as they were settled. Mike closed his eyes for a second and thought about how Sarah always complained when he wanted her to scratch his back or massage his shoulders.
“What do you mean you guess so?” Vanessa said. “You do love her, right?”
Mike sighed and took another drink of his beer. “Yeah. I mean, I have structure now. There’s a pattern. We work during the day and eat out twice a week, see a movie on Saturday, have dinner with her parents on Sunday afternoon. It’s nice knowing that there’s someone there who’s waiting for you, someone who will be there.”
“But do you love her?”
Mike felt his face heating up despite his drunkenness, or perhaps because of it, and he was fighting back his anger. Some fucking stripper was going to give him a lecture on love? How screwed up was her life, that she had to give lap dances and work a fake brass pole to make ends meet?
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Mike said. “People talk about falling in love and true love and I have no clue as to what that really means. Is it just about being able to tolerate someone until you die? Is it about stability? They should have a class about it, because I really have no freaking idea. Why don’t you tell me?”
Mike figured that Vanessa would bolt now, especially since he hadn’t given her a single dollar, hadn’t asked for a lap dance, hadn’t bought her a fifteen dollar drink. Vanessa didn’t get up, though. She looked around the club for an instant, then leaned in and gave Mike a quick kiss on the mouth, soft but full. Mike was speechless and felt a warmness in his chest that melted away his buzz.
“Poor baby,” Vanessa said. “I wouldn’t be in a hurry to do anything, if I were you. Take your time, you’ll figure it out.”
“I love you,” Mike said. Vanessa just laughed.
“See, there you go. Love doesn’t have to be forever. Sometimes a few seconds is enough.”
Mike thought about that for a moment and then noticed that Bobby and the blonde were staring at him and Vanessa. Bobby gave Mike the thumbs-up and Mike gave it right back, despite himself. Bobby said something to the blonde on his lap and she laughed and Mike wondered if it was about him, and then decided he didn’t care because he had his own beautiful woman on his lap. Then Vanessa stood up.
“I’m on,” she said, pointing towards the stage. “Thanks for the conversation.”
Mike rubbed his leg where Vanessa had been just a few seconds before and tried to think of something witty to say. His mind went blank and then he wondered if he should give her a few bucks or maybe just nod at her and try to look cool.
“Nice talking to you, too,” was all that Mike could come up with. He felt naked all of a sudden without Vanessa on his lap, her raspberry body lotion, her raspy voice. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
The blonde sat up from Bobby’s lap and Bobby seemed unfazed at her departure. Bobby stood up from the table and motioned for Mike to follow.
“Let’s get out of here,” Bobby said. “We’ve got a couple of hours to kill.”
Mike stood up and gave one last look towards Vanessa. She was on the stage now with several salivating males dying to shower her with ones. Mike felt strangely jealous and looked away before Vanessa could notice his staring. Mike turned his attention to the matter at hand.
“We’ve got a couple hours to kill before what?” Mike asked, still a tad pissed at being torn away from Vanessa.
“Before we hook up with those ho’s. They get off at midnight and we’re going to meet them downtown. You didn’t expect the night to end this early, did you?”
“She’s not a ho,” Mike said, albeit with little conviction. He didn’t care what Bobby called Vanessa, the point was that Mike was going to see her again. Already he was slightly nervous. Bobby just laughed.
“They’re all ho’s,” Bobby said. “You just have to know how much it’s going to cost you.”



Reality

Mike knew he had fucked up as soon as he sat down in Bobby’s car. Mike had felt something missing when he was in the strip club, but couldn’t quite place what it was. He had his ID, had cash, had chewing gum to cover up his tart beer breath. What Mike had been missing was sitting in the console between he and Bobby, and it was flashing and buzzing as if it were actively transmitting the anger Mike knew awaited him. It was his cell phone. Mike couldn’t believe he had left it there, didn’t even remember taking it out of his pocket. Mike went to reach for the cell phone, but Bobby put his hand over it before Mike could get to it.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Bobby said.
“C’mon, man, my cell’s blowing up. I just need to check in.”
Bobby started tapping buttons on Mike’s cell phone, but refused to hand it over.
“I’ll text her,” Bobby said. “Explain things, make sure she understands.”
“Don’t,” Mike said, pleading. “She’ll just get pissed. Sarah doesn’t joke around like we do.”
“Ah, no sense of humor. Strike one. Let’s see here, maybe I’ll tell her we’ve got some females lined up and she just needs to chill out and maybe you’ll call her tomorrow, if you feel like it. How’d that be?”
Mike was starting to panic and reached across the car for the phone, meaning to wrestle Bobby for it if he had to. Bobby held the phone just out of reach and his voice became serious.
“Back up, Mike. You’re not getting your phone right now.”
“Fuck that. Give me my goddam phone. I just need to talk to her for a minute, tell her everything’s cool.”
Bobby swerved a little towards the oncoming traffic and showed Mike a sickly smile. Mike wondered what the hell had happened to his oldest friend, why Bobby was all of a sudden so defiant and belligerent.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Mike said.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Bobby replied, still tapping on the cell phone and glancing at the road just enough to stay on it. “You move upstate and all of a sudden you’re Mr. tail-between-his-legs, fretting just because you haven’t talked to your girlfriend in a couple of hours. One night away and she can’t leave you alone? One fucking night?”
Bobby hit the “Send” button and held out the cell phone so Mike could see the message. Mike was both relieved and frightened by what was on the screen. It said:
can’t talk now honey
bob and i are in the movie theater
will call you in the morning
love mike
Bobby pulled Mike’s cell back and stuck it in his jacket pocket. Mike slumped in his seat and rubbed his temples, already feeling hung over even though he wasn’t through being drunk. Mike thought about trying to talk Bobby into giving him his cell phone and decided that it would be a futile attempt. Bobby would run the car off the road before he would give in to Mike.
“Now that’s one more thing I’m going to have to deal with,” Mike said, looking absently out the passenger side window.
“Why?” Bobby replied. “You saw the message. I didn’t send anything rude. Why would she be pissed at that?”
“I don’t know. She just will be. You’ve just got to know Sarah.”
“It doesn’t sound like I want to.” Bobby’s face became serious. “It’s just one night, Mike. If she’s like this now, how do you think she’s going to be after you get married?”
“I don’t know,” Mike said. He tried to feel anything but tired, thought about how mad Sarah was going to be at his snub. It didn’t matter if Mike told her how it really went down, she wouldn’t care. “Why didn’t you demand that he give you back your phone? Why didn’t you march yourself to the nearest payphone? Why didn’t you set yourself on fire and run down the street professing your undying love?”
Then Mike felt a sudden spur in his emotions. Vanessa. The prospect of getting to see her one more time soothed Mike’s worries, even though he didn’t know how Vanessa would treat him outside of the strip club, where idiots like himself thought that a plethora of one dollar bills and a little schmoozing would win the affections of women way out of their league. But that was okay with Mike. Just to see her, to spend a little time, maybe a little more conversation. Mike looked at his watch and saw that it wasn’t quite ten o’clock, still over two hours away from meeting the girls.
“So what are we going to do until midnight?” Mike asked.
“Just what I told your girlfriend we were doing,” Mike replied. “We’re going to the movies.”


At the Movies

The theater was nearly empty. A guy in the corner that Mike thought might have been jacking off using his popcorn container as a disguise. A schoolmarm with a huge sequin purse that she was digging in constantly to partake of candy she had smuggled in. A couple other solitary figures scattered, each one of them alone except for Mike and Bobby. Bobby passed Mike a flask filled with bourbon and Mike took a nip of it, waited for the burn, then chased it with his medium Coke that cost $4.95.
The movie was French, complete with subtitles, and Mike was having a hard time keeping up. Mike couldn’t pronounce the title and had barely captured the plot, something about two women in love with one guy or maybe one guy in love with two women... The point was that relationships almost never fit like a glove, that there would always be missing teeth in the cogs of love. There’s never a perfect match and those differences always flare up like a red pimple in the middle of your forehead. That cog has to spin like the wheel that it is and eventually those missing teeth are going to pop up again. All you can hope for is that the gaps in the cog aren’t so wide that the whole works comes crashing down. Mike took another nip from the flask, didn’t bother chasing it this time. He looked down at his watch, squinting because of the lack of light and saw that it was already five past twelve.
“Oh shit,” Mike said, giving Bobby a troubled look as he handed back the flask. “We need to get going if we‘re going to meet up with those girls.”
“Why?” Bobby asked.
“It’s already after midnight. By the time we get out of here and drive back across town... they might forget about us.”
Bobby laughed and reached inside his jacket. He held the jacket open like a corner peddler trying to get rid of fake Rolex’s and pulled out a baggie, scanning the theater several times for prying eyes.
“What’s that?” Mike asked, trying to whisper, but still too loud because of his surprise and drunkenness. Bobby gave Mike the “shush” sign along with a furrowed look and let the baggie drop back down into his jacket pocket. Mike leaned in and toned down his voice. “Is that coke?” he asked. Bobby nodded.
“Just what the doctor ordered. The girls will wait on us, don’t you worry. I haven’t met a stripper yet that didn’t like a little nose candy.”
Mike didn’t say anything, but he was disappointed. Here he had been thinking that Vanessa was interested in him, that she might even like him, and the only reason she was going to meet up with him again was so she could get high. Then Mike got doubly depressed as he thought about all the shit he was going to have to eat to satisfy Sarah for not answering her phone calls. Mike barely even noticed when Bobby tapped him on the shoulder, the credits rolling on the screen and the lights in the theater steadily becoming brighter.
“You ready to party with some gorgeous ladies?”
Mike just shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever,” he said, pouting.
“Did you like the movie?”
“What movie?”
Bobby just laughed and clapped Mike on the shoulder as they exited the theater and stepped out onto the sidewalk into the brisk autumn air.


Game On

Bobby zipped around the city streets with a series of hard brakes and quick take-offs that made Mike think about an ‘80’s television show featuring a computer generated car that could make ninety degree turns in pursuit of bad guys on the run. That is, Mike thought about that when he wasn’t passed out. Several times Mike blanked only to be awakened when his head would knock against the window or loll over onto Bobby’s shoulder. It had been a long time since Mike had been this drunk. Drunk, drunk.
Bobby slammed into a spot in a parking garage and shut off the car. He looked at Mike and shook his head, finally tapped Mike on the forehead to wake him up.
“Come on there, smooth criminal. Your princess is waiting for you.”
Mike murmured something inaudible and waved his hand, a flailing gesture for Bobby to go on without him. Bobby reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out the baggie. He then reached across Mike and under Mike’s seat, pulled out a large atlas and sat it on his lap. Bobby delicately sprinkled the coke out into two uniform lines on the atlas and then deftly rolled up a fast food receipt that had been sitting in the center console. Mike watched the ritual with heavy eyes and wondered what time it was. He looked down at the pretty white lines that looked like an = sign and thought, “Magic dust. All I need is some magic dust.”
Bobby took hold of the back of Mike’s neck, gentle and forceful at the same time, and guided Mike’s sniffer down to the coke. Bobby gave Mike the rolled up receipt and Mike finally caught on, sucked a line up one nostril, then the other. Mike perked up in his seat a few seconds later and opened his eyes as wide as they would go, blinked once, blinked again.
“Better?” Bobby asked.
“Much better,” Mike replied, all thoughts of Sarah gone, his drunkenness pushed back to a manageable level like a lion that had been tamed and locked back into its cage, still roaring, but contained.
“You ready?”
Mike looked over at Bobby and smiled. For the first time in a long time, Mike was actually smiling. “Let’s do this,” Mike said, and the two friends got out of Bobby’s car and headed towards the music.



Deep Six

The dance club was called Deep Six and Mike wondered to himself how they named it and whose responsibility that was, actually naming it, and who decided to go with flashing blue neon lights (Deep flash Six, Deep flash Six) and why was he sweating and why did he feel like taking off in a wild sprint with a wide and maddening smile on his face and why and why and why...
Bobby took hold of Mike’s shoulder and Mike felt like his pounding heart was going to leap out of his chest and go ahead without him. I’ll catch up later, Mike thought and laughed, looked over at Bobby. Wasn’t there a girl they were meeting here, perhaps even a pair of them? And didn’t the girl smell like berries and smoke and hairspray and wasn’t her skin soft and her lips wet and, and, and...
“Slooow down there partner,” Bobby said. “You look like you’re about to blow a gasket. I knew I should have only let you hit one line.”
Mike made a conscious effort to hold back, but it was like trying to walk backwards on the up escalator. Every molecule of Mike was telling him to go, Go, GO!, an avalanche of emotion and action. All Mike could think of was the girl and where the hell was she and how fast could he get to her. Luckily, Bobby was never one to wait on action and he didn’t force Mike to slow down too much, just enough to keep him from running past the bouncers.
Deep Six was alive and every patron seemed to be moving in time with the bass beats, the waitresses, the bartenders, the hipsters, the wannabes, all bouncing in rhythm, some of them only slightly, others fully in tune and on track and in the groove. Darkness followed by a pulse of incandescent whiteness, the light and the bass synched and Mike knew he was going to have a seizure of some sort when he finally saw what he had been looking for. Her. Woman. Uhhh...
Mike gritted his teeth and tried to force his mind to slow down, just ease up a little bit so he could imitate at least a modicum of composure. Vanessa. Yes, that’s her. She’s in the middle of the dance floor, alone. Usually there would be nine kinds of dudes all over Vanessa to make their play, but the way she dances, the ferocity of it, gives her several feet of clearance in spite of the crowd and even the gawkers are afraid to stare for too long. Finally, the song wound down and Vanessa opened her eyes and smiled at Mike, motioned for him to come closer. Mike felt the heat of jealous eyes and he loved every second of it. Just for a moment he was the man, at least until he figured out a way to screw it up.
“I didn’t think you were going to make it,” Vanessa said, and wrapped her arms around Mike’s shoulders. The stripper garb had been replaced with a thin sweater and faded jeans, and Vanessa looked just like any other club hopping college kid. The flamboyant red wig had been replaced with curly, mid-length brown hair that looked almost wet in the caustic glimmer of the lights. Vanessa’s eyes were still green and bright, though, and Mike resisted the urge to look away. For a moment he just stared into them and Vanessa stared back, playful and unabashed as she had been when Mike first met her, which now seemed like years ago.
“You’re high,” Vanessa said.
“Do what?” Mike said, laughing. “What makes you say that?”
“Because your pupils are barely there and the rest of your eyes are red as fire.” Vanessa pulled Mike closer and ran her hand through the hair on the back of his head. “Plus, you’re tense. You look like you’re about to come out of your skin.”
“Maybe I’m just nervous,” Mike said. “It’s not too often I’m in the middle of a dance floor with the hottest woman in the club. I might have a heart attack if I’m not careful.”
Vanessa just laughed and smiled. Another song came over the sound system, slower, yet still charged with a deep bass beat that Mike could feel in his chest. He thought about what he should say, what the next move should be. Then a Teutonic drumbeat began thrumming over the bass, a rhythmic sexual pounding, and Mike decided it would best if he just shut the fuck up. Vanessa turned around and backed into Mike and he instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist. Mike thought for a second about how primitive this was and he was reminded about a PBS special he had watched about mating rituals in the animal kingdom. Then Mike decided he was thinking too much and shut his brain off immediately. Just like his mouth, his brain was always getting in the way.
Mike leaned in and said something guttural and incoherent into Vanessa’s ear, his lips barely touching the lobe. Vanessa closed her eyes and put her right hand over Mike’s, which was resting on her the side of her waist. She pulled Mike’s hand towards her belly and he ran his fingers over her softly, like he was caressing a newborn. Vanessa’s body was taut, yet still soft and welcoming, a perfect dichotomy of strength and vulnerability. Sweat and raspberry body lotion filled Mike’s senses and he didn’t know how he had gone a lifetime without having this moment. The liquor, the coke, Vanessa; it was all of the above and yet more because here was a moment that Mike wasn’t worrying about flubbing up a line in a conversation or if he had the proper shirt on for the occasion or, or, or....
Mike knew that Vanessa wanted him and he wanted her and he also knew that this was something he would never have with Sarah. With Sarah it could only be structure, habit, and acquiescence. Mike wasn’t angry at Sarah for this; she was what she was and she would find someone willing to put up with her shit, some guy who needed a swift kick in the ass every once in a while. But Mike didn’t want a drill instructor, he wanted a woman. No more, no less.
The song began to fade and Mike held onto Vanessa’s hand and led her away from the dance floor. He looked around until he finally saw Bobby sitting with a blonde (not the one from the strip club) in a corner of the VIP section on a plush red couch with a square glass table in front of it. A bouncer was standing nearby and gave Mike a steely look. Bobby gave the bouncer the thumbs up and the bouncer stepped aside and let Mike and Vanessa pass. The blonde paid Mike and Vanessa little attention and Bobby gave Mike a slight nod and a smile, just a small acknowledgement before they went off to their separate conversations. Mike and Vanessa sat down on the couch and after a waiter took their drink order, they grinned awkwardly at one another.
“Where’s your friend?” Mike asked, referring to the other blonde, the one at the strip club.
“She bailed on me,” Vanessa said. “One of her regulars came in and was dropping a ton of cash. She’ll probably just get high with him after hours.”
“Do you do that much?”
“What, get high?”
“Yeah.”
Vanessa paused as the waiter brought the drinks. Mike wondered if maybe he had crossed the line, perhaps delving too far into Vanessa’s proclivities. Vanessa didn’t seem embarrassed, though, and carried on as soon as the waiter left.
“Not really my thing,” she said, sipping her mixed drink. “I mean I might smoke a little weed on a special occasion, but I try to stay away from pills and coke. Bad scene.”
Mike nodded and took a long drink of his beer. Okay, so she wasn’t an addict, or at least she didn’t seem like it. Mike continued down this line of questioning, though he was afraid of sounding like he was putting Vanessa through a job interview.
“So, how’d you get into dancing?” he said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. Vanessa laughed and set down her drink.
“You say that like I’m working in financial investments or something.” Vanessa straightened her back, deepened her voice and did a mock impression of a businessman. “So, what brings you to Wall Street?” she said.
Mike laughed and set his drink down. Even though the topic seemed weird, Mike felt more at ease talking to Vanessa than he ever had with Sarah. With Sarah, a simple conversation about dining furniture was liable to become laced with tension if Mike didn’t tiptoe around the subject. Sarah who?
“You know what I mean,” he said. “You said you hadn’t worked at the club for long. I’m just interested about why you were there in the first place.”
“Money,” Vanessa said. She started for her drink, then took a deep breath and pulled back her hands, gesturing as she spoke. “I’m in school. I ran up my credit cards. I tried waitressing and sucked at it. So this girl I have a class with, she told me about all the money she made dancing and I took all kinds of dance classes as a kid, and that’s it. What I didn’t realize is that most of the girls who do it are fucked up with drugs and it’s not the sort of job you want if you’re not medicating yourself. It’s disgusting. I bet I didn’t do five lap dances the whole time I worked there.”
“Wait a minute,” Mike said. “You said ‘the whole time I worked there’, like in the past tense. Did you quit?”
Vanessa rolled her eyes and sighed. “I got fired,” she said. “About an hour after you guys left.”
“What happened?”
Vanessa shrugged her shoulders. “The manager called me back and said that I wasn’t doing a good job selling lap dances or the fifteen dollar drinks and I wasn’t very friendly with the customers. I asked him how friendly was I supposed to be for a bunch of crumpled up one dollar bills? He said I had a bad attitude and things got a little heated and that was that. So now I’m unemployed. And to be honest, I don’t really care at the moment.”
“Me neither,” Mike said. “I don’t think that was the right job for you.”
“Well, at least I got my credit cards and my rent current, bought myself a little breathing room. So then I remembered Star saying that you guys were going to be here and I figured, ’What the heck?’”
Vanessa shrugged again and clapped her hands on her knees, took another drink. Mike realized that Vanessa was nervous and he felt amazed that he could have that effect on a female.
“So you came just to see me again?” he said.
“You seemed like you could use a little conversation,” Vanessa said, then gave Mike a sly look. “Did you get things straightened out with your girlfriend?”
“No. Well, sort of. I mean, I don’t think I want to see her anymore. I think it’s over.”
“What are you talking about? Three hours ago you were talking about how you were going to ask her to marry you. Why the sudden change of heart?”
Vanessa was playing devil’s advocate, but Mike could hear the playfulness in her voice. “I told you back at the club that I loved you,” he said, realizing that it was both absurd and truthful at the same time. Vanessa looked at Mike, shook her head and laughed and Mike laughed, too. For the next two hours, Mike and Vanessa talked about nothing in particular, getting up only for the occasional slow dance or to use the bathroom. Bobby left them alone and Mike almost forgot he was there except for the occasional glance of recognition. A voice came over the sound system and announced “last call for alcohol” and Mike noticed that the crowd had thinned substantially. Mike felt saddened by this, like Cinderella at 11:59, and he knew that the tide of reality was starting to creep up on his little out-of-town adventure. But he also knew that this was an opportunity for him to make something new of himself, to become what he wanted, to actualize. Mike stood up from the booth and got Bobby’s attention, made a ‘phone’ gesture with his thumb and pinky.
“You sure?” Bobby said, a curious look on his face.
Mike nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got to go to the bathroom anyway. Might as well get two things done at once.”
Bobby tossed Mike his cell phone and Mike made his way to restroom through the dying revelry. He thought for a moment about sequestering himself in one of the stalls to make his call, but every toilet was lathered with stray piss, puke or both, so Mike leaned his forehead against the cool tile wall next to the sink and did the deed. Sarah protested, but not as much as Mike thought she would. She didn’t cry or plead or wonder what she had done to deserve this, but asked Mike what the hell was wrong with him and what would her parents think and how could he actually break up with her. She said that she could tell that he was drunk and that asshole Bobby probably put him up to this and they would talk about things later, when Mike was in his right mind.
Mike just sighed and closed his cell phone. The breakup wouldn’t be that hard, logistically, because Sarah never stayed over at his house, didn’t even leave a toothbrush, in fear that her sanctimonious parents might find out that they were indeed (gasp!) sleeping together. The bad part was that Mike knew breaking up wouldn’t be difficult emotionally either and any guilt he might have would be superficial and short-lived, just as the relationship had been. The thought of this made Mike feel tired and he walked swiftly back to the booth, to get back the buzz he felt when he was around Vanessa. She looked a little frightened when he sat back down beside her and she didn’t wait long to break the silence.
“So how’d it go?” Vanessa said. Bobby and the blonde looked over with obvious curiosity and Mike felt a little awkward at being the center of attention.
“It’s over,” Mike said. “No big deal.”
The foursome stood up from the booth and gathered their coats just before the lights came on. The club manager came over and asked if anyone needed a cab, a polite way of saying “get the hell out”, and Bobby shook his head and led the way to the door. Outside, Bobby grabbed Mike for a quick sidebar away from the girls’ ears.
“Uhh, I think this chick’s going to ride back with us to my place,” Bobby said. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“You realize that you drive a two-seater and I don’t think your girl there will appreciate sitting on my lap. What’s her name anyhow?”
Bobby looked mildly perplexed for a moment, grimaced, then shook his head and laughed. “I’m not sure,” Bobby said. “I’ll figure it out somewhere along the way home. Look, do you want me to call you a cab or something?”
“I’ll find my way back,” Mike said. He stuck his hand out to Bobby and Bobby at first shook it, then pulled Mike towards him and patted him on the shoulder.
“You sure you’ll be alright?” Bobby asked.
“Yeah, I’m good,” Mike said. “Better than good, as a matter of fact. Thanks for the night out.”
“Anytime, man. And hey, I’m sorry about you and your girl not working out and all.”
“No, you’re not,” Mike said. Bobby just shrugged his shoulders and turned away, grinning.
Mike glanced over at Vanessa, who was shivering in the cold and trying to make small talk with the blonde, which was not an easy task in Mike’s estimation. Mike tapped Vanessa lightly on the shoulder and she turned to him, looking both anxious and excited, her breath visible in the crisp night. They stood and watched as Bobby led the blonde back to the parking garage, where she would undoubtedly be impressed with Bobby’s coupe and the baggie of coke he had stashed in it.
“Can I walk you to your car?” Mike said, finally breaking the silence.
“Sure, but will you answer one question first?”
“Shoot.”
“How exactly are you getting home?”
Mike looked happily perplexed. “I’m not quite sure. I guess I’ll catch a cab to take me back to my car. Then I’ll either go back to Bobby’s for a couple hours sleep or I’ll head on home.”
“How far away did you say you lived?”
“About two hours.”
Vanessa held Mike’s hand as they walked, thinking but not speaking until they were almost to her car.
“Listen, I’ve got a better idea,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“Well, how about you hop in and I’ll make you breakfast and then you can crash for awhile at my place. I don’t think you’re in very good shape to drive right now.”
“You’re probably right,” Mike said.
“Don’t be getting any ideas,” Vanessa said. “I don’t put out on the first date.”
“But we can still snuggle a little bit, right?” Mike said, then yawned and stretched his arms out as Vanessa unlocked her car. Mike hopped in the passenger side and looked over at Vanessa. For a moment they just stared at one another and while locked in that mutual gaze, Mike felt like a whole person. He felt like he was finally experiencing reciprocity, that hypnotic sensation when every emotion you send out to another person filters through them and comes back to you, untainted and undiminished.
Vanessa pulled out of the parking space and Mike leaned his seat back and folded his hands behind his head.
“Don’t you go to sleep on me, now,” Vanessa said. “There’s no way I can lug you inside my apartment.”
“Don’t worry,” Mike said. “I’m wide awake.”