A novel by Karen Lockhart
Copyright© 2018 Karen Lockhart
When Jean and I got back to my Honda SUV at first we didn't see Kevin. I immediately
started to worry, expecting the worst. Peeking through the back-seat window, Jean started laughing.
“Ginny, I found him. He's cute when asleep, isn't he?”
Kevin had found my emergency surplus Swiss army blanket, and curled up in the back seat snoring away.
“What do you think, should I wake him up, or let him dream on?” Jean asked.
Chuckling, I decided to let him sleep, knowing he'd be full of questions as soon as he woke up.
“Hop in Terri the Tiger, we can talk on the way home.”
Now it was Jean's turn to laugh, “Careful where you call me that, please. Can you imagine if the other condo owners ever saw my act?”
“Yeah, all the guys would be stepping on their tongues, and all, the women would be after your autograph.”
“The women would want my autograph? They wouldn't want to stone me in the front yard?”
“Jean, you are a miracle, the way you move, the way men freeze up. Oh yeah, keep a pen handy.”
About the time we arrived at the Ted Williams tunnel, we heard groans coming from the back seat, then, “What's happening, is the car being stolen? I've got to piss.”
Jean giggled, “Is he always like that when he wakes up?”
“The peeing part is, but he's a guy, what do you expect?” I answered. “Welcome to the land of the living, Kevin. We are just going into the Ted Tunnel.”
“You two were so long in the club, I got cold, so I grabbed the blanket, and must have dozed off.”
Jean laughed again. “If you called that dozing, what is sleep like? Jeeze, a bomb could've gone off without waking you up.”
“Yeah, yeah, so what was the club like? Did you learn anything? What took so long? Is everyone inside really a guy? Or a girl, or a tranny?”
I turned my head and looked at him, “Full of questions aren't you? Can you be any more insensitive? Or is this your way of pouting, because you had to wait in the car?”
He just shrugged, but had the decency to blush and say he was sorry.
Jean suggested I start, and she would fill when needed. So I started. “First, without a dress and lipstick, you wouldn't through the door with a shot-gun. The bouncer was the size and demeanor of an angry Grizzly Bear. The only man in the club was the Manager.
“The manager, Mr Logan, was really friendly, especially when he recognized Jean as Terri the Tiger. He even asked if she would do her act. You should have seen her! Nothing like her act at The Naked City in Peabody. On second thought, I'm glad you missed it.”
Jean piped in, “What Ginny isn't telling you is we were both offered jobs, me as a dancer, at my own rate, as a headliner and Ginny as a bartender, making each night, with tips, about $1500 a shift.
“As to Vinny Morales, we didn't ask. This way if he applies, and gets hired, we'll know where he is.”
“So, are you two going to work there, and for how long?” he asked.
I went first. “I want to talk about that with Ellen and Steve Brady before I do anything. But for me it would be temporary, until Morales shows up.”
“I might take my act there, the money's great, and I would have, if you don't mind the pun, more exposure.”
After dropping Jean off at her condo in Nahant, we headed for our condo in Swampscott.
It was after midnight, so we were quiet opening the door to the living room. Ellen and Wendy were sound asleep, with the television softly murmuring about a new vacuum cleaner you had to buy if you loved your family.
Kevin gave me a kiss, promised to call me the next day, and left in his pickup truck. Ellen woke up when she heard the door close. Rubbing her eyes she asked “Well, how did things go?”
Before answering, I went into the kitchen and made a couple of quick cups of tea with the Kurig coffee maker.
Quickly filling Ellen in on the club and how it's a direct duplicate of 'The Candy Cane Club' in Tanya Allen's book. This make us wonder if the club exists, or if after reading her book, some entrepreneur decided to build his own 'Club' . I said Jean was going to accept working there, and Ellen just had to see her act!”
“Why don't I feel there is more to tell about this Logan guy?” Ellen paused, “You seem to be holding something back, fess up Ginny.”
About this time, Wendy's eyes fluttered open, and with a big yawn, she greeted me with a “Young lady, do you know what time it is? “
Turning bright red, as usual, I answered Ellen. “There are no cis-women or men who aren't either a crossdresser or transitioning, just like in the book. Well, I was offered a job working as a bartender. The job would pay, with tips, $1500 or more a shift. The bar opens at 4pm and closes at 2am.”
“Are you going to take the offer?” Ellen asked.
“That's what I want to ask you and Steve Brady about. If I came in at lunch time, 11:30, and worked until 3pm, that would give me enough time for sleep and working behind the bar at the club. I would be able to work eight hours twice a week, Mondays and a floating weekday, so it would mean only three days I'd be on short hours. This would be only until I spotted Vinny.”
Ellen said, “You realize his appearance will be radically different. He will have breasts, glued on or surgically enhanced and heavily made up, with possible cosmetic surgical improvements.”
“That's why I need to be there; Jean would never know him from a photo, having short hair and a mustache and all.”
“So this would only be temporary, three days a week? I'm okay with it, let me run it by Steve tomorrow. He wants Morales caught as bad as we do. Let's go to bed, we've got work tomorrow. Oh boy, it's 2am, only three hours sleep!”
Next morning, when we arrived at the office, Ellen suggested she call Steve Brady to see what he thought. So rather that have us talk about it, we might as well tell Wendy and Steve at the same time.
Wendy was bursting at the seams, full of questions she wanted to ask me. I felt sorry for her and told a brief story, not including the job offer from Mr Logan, but describing the club and the requirements the employees had to meet.
This of course, made her eyes huge. “You mean everyone working there is like me? I mean, guys who are girls and dress that way?”
I thought for a minute, Wendy's seventeen, old enough to hear some of this, why not tell her?
“Most of the people who work there have had breast surgery, mostly a normal size, but some are huge, thinking they would get larger tips that way.”
“How much money do they make, Aunt Ginny?” she asked.
“If my memory serves, Wendy, the bartenders get around $1500 a night counting tips, and the waitresses, counting tips, make $1200. Of course, if they do lap dances, this adds $100 for each dance. I forget what the entertainers make, but they pay the club $50 per day to work there. Most of the girls are saving up to pay for surgery, including GRS.”
“Waitresses make $1200 a day? What are the requirements to waitress, this sounds a lot better than working at Mickey D's.”
“Young lady!” I scolded, “You will not work there as a waitress, so get that thought out of your mind!”
“But Auntie, $1200. I could buy a car in a week!”
“ NO MORE! We'll finish this conversation when we get HOME!”
I really regret telling her about the club. Well, you can't un-ring a bell, so maybe if I bartend, she could come and see what really does go on. Hopefully, this will scare her off.
About 9:30 Steve showed up, just in time for the coffee truck. Perfect timing, he bought for all of us.
Once inside, Steve asked, “What's this about Ginny working at a titty club?”
So I proceeded to tell him about my new friend Jean, and that maybe Morales would show up there.
“She has tiger tattoos? I've seen her, she calls herself Terri the Tiger, right? Can you introduce me to her, Ginny?”
“Only if you say yes to my plan Steve.”
“Done! Now when can I meet her?”
I promised to call her that day; and fill out an online employment application!
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