“If you have to do something with Marcus, that’s cool, I’l cal –”
“What did you say?” Daisy cut in but she did it on a whisper. It was weird hearing Daisy whisper. I’d never heard it before. She was not a whispering kind of person.
“I said, if you have to do something with Marcus, that’s cool. I’l just cal –”
“You know?” Daisy broke in again.
“Know what?”
“Know… do you know who Marcus is?”
Final y I got it. “Yeah,” I said quietly.
“I’ve been trying to find a way to tel you. How long have you known?”
“Awhile,” I said, “Luke told me.”
She was silent a few beats then she asked, “Do you really know who Marcus is?”
“Yeah,” I repeated, again quietly.
“You don’t mind?”
Oh, I minded.
One thing I’d learned in life was that women could bitch about their men until they were blue in the face and you could listen and nod and offer support. But you never as in never said something bad about a woman’s man no matter how much she bitched or how much he may deserve it. It always came back to haunt you.
“Just cal me after you talk to Marcus,” I said instead of answering.
“Al right, Sugar,” Daisy replied, now her tone was quiet, not a whisper but barely there.
“Daisy?” I cal ed.
“Yeah?”
“Clarice is in with the tutors,” I told her.
Daisy was silent.
“Thanks,” I said.
Then I flipped my phone shut.
*
“Oh shit, I know who this is,” Zip shouted across his Gun Emporium as Daisy and I sauntered in. “No, no, no. Should I say it again? I think I fuckin’ wil . Fuck… no! ”
“Zip,” I said in a soothing voice as Daisy and I approached him. Heavy was standing in front of the counter opposite him. Both of them were scowling at me.
“No. You aren’t gonna get Marcus Sloan’s wife fil ed ful of holes. That kind of shit hits the fan, everyone gets splattered. I do not want to be splattered with shit. Jesus, girl, you are loco.” He shook his head then narrowed his eyes and said, “I heard you were off the streets.”
“I am,” I said, stopping in front of the counter.
“What’re you doin’ here?” Heavy asked.
“Thought I’d come by, tel you in person. Then I thought maybe you guys might want to meet us for drinks later.” They stared at me. Then they stared at each other.
“Shee-it. Crowe’s dumped her again,” Zip muttered.
Daisy giggled.
“Crowe has not dumped me,” I snapped. “And he didn’t dump me the first time. It was a misunderstanding!”
“Why aren’t you havin’ drinks with him?” Heavy asked.
“He’s in New Mexico, after a skip.”
The light dawned and both of them looked a lot less cantankerous.
“Where you goin’ for the drink?” Zip asked.
“Smithie’s,” Daisy replied.
“I’m in,” Heavy answered immediately.
“Me too,” Zip put in.
Smithie’s was a strip club. Daisy used to work there (as a stripper, pre-Marcus). Jet did too (as a cocktail waitress, pre-and start-of-Eddie but most definitely not now as Eddie wasn’t fond of the outfit the waitresses had to wear or the clientele). Jet’s sister Lottie (better known as Lottie Mac, Queen of the Corvette calendar) now worked there as a stripper and apparently the best one this side of the Mississippi, and that included Vegas. She was such a good stripper, Lottie was a local celebrity, even I had heard of her.
“We’re going to get something to eat, we’l see you at Smithie’s after you close down the shop,” I told them.
“Later,” Heavy said.
As we walked away, we overheard Zip saying, “Loco, fuckin’ loco, what kind of women go drinking at a strip club?”
Daisy turned her head and smiled at me.
I smiled back.
*
“Oh my God,” I breathed after Lottie was done with her two song dance, “I want to be a stripper.” Roxie giggled beside me. “That’s what everyone says.” Lottie was gone, disappeared behind the stage. The crowd was wired, screaming for an encore. I was right with them on my feet shouting for her to come back. She didn’t strip. I didn’t know what she did but it wasn’t stripping (though, she did dance around in fancy underwear and rip her bra off at the end).
The only way to describe it was a work of art.
We were sitting in the VIP section right up next to the stage.
When Daisy and I drove up in Daisy’s Mercedes, I thought we’d never get in. There was a velvet rope and a line clear around the building.
Daisy just walked up to the front of the line, said, “Hey Lenny,” to the huge black guy that was the bouncer and then swanned in like the place was named “Daisy’s” and not “Smithie’s”.
She went directly to a cordoned off area where Jet, Roxie, Indy, Al y, Tod and Stevie were al sitting.
Our asses no sooner hit the chairs when an older, heavyset black guy came trotting up to us.
“Smithie!” Daisy squealed with delight.