The Gold Dollar Girls

CHAPTER ONE

Roxanne kicked her shoes off under the table. "Oh yeah, that feels better. My dogs have been barking all night."

Clover was pouring a long stream of sugar into her coffee. "Bitch, you're always raggin' about your fuckin' feet," she said, "You ought to feel how much my back aches at the end of a shift."

Roxanne shrugged. "Nobody made you buy those giant bolt on tits."

Clover laughed and squeezed her breasts. "Don't be bad mouthing my money makers."

"Oh please," Roxanne said with a derisive snort, "How much did you make tonight?"

"A little over five hundred."

"Bitch, me and my itty bitty titties made six hundred and twenty."

"That's cause of all the handjobs you gave in the private rooms."

"Bullshit, I don't do extras."

"Never?"

"Not usually."

They both laughed.

Mildred came to their booth, her order pad in one hand, a coffee pot in the other. She had been at The Finest Kind Diner for years, and always pulled rank to wait on Roxanne and Clover, because they were great tippers.

"You ladies ready to order?" she asked, setting down the pot and taking her pencil from behind her ear.

Clover took one last look at the menu, then said, "Let me get two eggs sunny side up and a double order of white toast."

Roxanne rolled her eyes. "Every single time, you read the whole menu and then you order the same fuckin' thing."

Clover shrugged and slurped her coffee. Roxanne ordered a short stack of pancakes and a side of bacon.

Mildred refilled their coffee cups, tucked the menus under her arm and went to put in their order. Roxanne look off her glasses and laid her head on the back of the booth and closed her eyes. It hadn't been a particularly hard night, but six hours of dancing took a lot out of you. She was just about to doze off when Clover took another loud sip of coffee and startled her back to wakefulness.

"What's with that thing you do with your hair?" Roxanne asked her, "That ponytail that comes straight up on the top? You look like one of those dancing horses."

"Fuck you, four eyes," Clover said. "They should call you Roxy the flying squirrel."

"Yeah, okay, Bullwinkle."

"Bitch, want to watch me pull a rabbit out of your ass?"

Mildred returned and set their food down on the table. They both looked up, smiled and thanked her.

Clover jabbed a corner of toast into her egg yolks and took a bite. When she had swallowed it, she said, "They're called Lippenzanners. Those horses. My dad took me to see them once."

"You met your dad?"

"I met your dad. He wanted me to pee on him but i told him that was extra."

"Joke's on you, my dad is gay."

"So how did you get here?"

"He was a slow learner."

Clover dunked her toast in the egg again, then looked past Roxanne's shoulder and nodded. "Speak of the gay devil," she said.

Roxanne turned her head and saw Misty coming toward them, holding hands with a slender, dark skinned woman with long beaded dreadlocks.

"Nice hair," Roxanne muttered.

Misty squeezed in next to Clover, and Roxanne slid over to make room for her companion.

"Hey, Misty," Clover said, while chewing a bite of toast.

"Hi, guys," Misty replied, "This is Maya. Maya, that's Roxanne, and this one is Clover."

Maya looked at Misty with a puzzled expression. "You all call each other by your stage names?"

Roxanne nodded. "Well, we don't use our real names at the club, so I guess it just becomes a habit."

"I don't even know your real name," Clover said to Roxanne.

"I know you guys," Roxanne replied, She pointed first to Misty, then to Clover. "Megan and Charlene."

"So what's yours?" Clover asked.

Roxanne hesitated a moment, then said, "Rhonda."

Clover snorted, then began to sing, "Help me, Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda..."

"See, I knew you were going to be an asshole about it."

"Help me Rhonda, help me blow a nut in my pants..."

Roxanne gave her the finger as Mildred appeared over Misty's shoulder. "Get you ladies anything?"

"Just coffee," Misty told her.

"You got first shift tomorrow?" Roxanne asked Misty.

"Yeah. Hey, Sherry said she's got a new girl coming in."

"Fuck," Clover grunted, "Less money for the rest of us."

"Yeah, but less wear and tear," Roxanne said.

Clover shrugged. "How much you clear tonight, Misty?"

"Eight something."

"You bitch. Eight hundred on a fucking Wednesday..."

Mildred came back with the coffee pot and filled everyone's cups. Misty watched her walk away from the table, then reached in to her purse and pulled out a pint of Jamesons. She unscrewed the top, poured a splash into her coffee and handed the bottle to Clover.

"Fuck yeah, you rich bitch," Clover grumbled, "It's the least you can do."

The bottle went around the table and disappeared back into Misty's purse.

"She tell you anything about this new girl?" Roxanne asked.

"Nope, but Georgie said she's a baby stripper."

"Jesus Christ, that means all night long, questions, questions, questions," Clover groaned.

"Well, we'll see how long this one lasts," Roxanne sighed.

Misty shrugged. "It's the economics of the business. Girls can stay home now and make good money doing cam shows."

"Oh, but they miss all the fun," Clover said, laughing, "I mean a guy watching on his computer can't try to cram his finger up your ass."

"Or come in his pants and then ask for his money back because he didn't get a full dance," Roxanne added.

"They probably do that online too," Misty said.

"Hey, Maya," Clover said, "Why don't you come dance with us?"

"Because she's an education major," Misty said.

"Oh. Yeah." Clover nodded and the table was silent for a moment.

"I was wondering something..." Maya asked shyly, "I always heard that strippers never made friends with other strippers..."

"Oh, this bitch ain't my friend," Clover said, pointing at Roxanne, "I just hang with her sometimes because it's late and there's no one else around."

"No, I'll tell you why we aren't friends," Roxanne said. She pointed at Clover's plate. "This cow comes here every single night and orders two sunny side up and double toast, then she just eats the toast smeared in the yolks and never eats the whites. It drives me crazy."

"Is that how it happened?" Clover chuckled.

"Alright," Misty said, standing up, "You two sound like an old married couple. We're going to take off. I've got classes in the morning."

"Nice meeting you guys," Maya said as she slipped out of the Booth.

"It probably wasn't," Clover said, "But thanks for saying so."

Misty waved. "See you guys tomorrow."

Clover stared into her cup. "Should have asked her to leave that pint," she mumbled.

"I guess we should get going, too," Roxanne said.

"Yeah, fuck it." Clover reached into her bra and pulled out a roll of bills. She peeled off a twenty and tucked it under her plate. Roxanne got another twenty from her purse and placed it beneath her coffee cup. She fished her shoes out from under the table and slipped them on.

They stood and waved to Mildred, then walked out of the diner into the cool spring night.

Clover pulled a pack of Newports from her bra and lit one. "What time is it, anyway?" she asked.

"Late. Like three thirty."

"Fuck me."

"It's not that late."

As they walked toward their cars, a dark SUV pulled into the parking lot and slowed to a crawl. The drivers window came down and a balding middle aged man stared out at them.

"Look at this douchebag," Clover said, "He thinks we are on the stroll."

"Well, maybe if you wore a skirt that covered your whole ass..."

"Bitch, look at you. Those pants are about two sizes too small. Joe Camel called and wants his fucking toe back."

The sedan made a circle around the lot. Clover glared at the driver. "Go the fuck home," she shouted. "Shit, your wife won't fuck you, and that dumb bitch loves your ass. Why would we?"

The car kicked up gravel as it pulled away. Roxanne laughed. "How do you go through life and not get your ass kicked on a regular basis?" she asked.

"Honey, my ass has been kicked so much that I don't even notice anymore."

Roxanne opened the door of her car. "See you tomorrow, babe," she called as she got in. She watched Clover get into her car and turn on her headlights before she pulled away.

As soon as her tires hit the highway, she rolled down all four windows, letting the night air rush through the car. Its coolness was refreshing, snapping her to the alertness she needed for the ten minute drive home.

When she pulled into her complex, she had to slam on her brakes. A moving van was parked in front of the first building. Cursing under her breath, she steered past it, drove around the u-shaped driveway and parked in front of her own apartment. As she walked up the stairs to the second story runway, she looked over at the moving van. "More assholes moving in," she muttered.

She unlocked the door and went in, dropping her purse on the end of the couch. She kicked off her shoes, then went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of chablis. She passed back through the living room, setting the glass on the coffee table, and went to the bathroom. After tossing her clothes into the hamper and putting on her robe, she returned to the living room and plopped down on the couch.

Retrieving her cash envelope from her purse, she took out its contents, and counted them out on the table. One fifty, sixteen twenties, twelve tens, twelve fives, fifty two singles. Six hundred and two dollars.

She opened a side drawer in the coffee table and took out a cash band and a small cigar box. She bundled five hundred dollars, then put the rest of the cash in her wallet. Opening the box, she took out a small baggie of marijuana and a pack of rolling papers.

She turned on the television and watched a few minutes of CNN as she rolled and lit a joint. Sitting back and taking a big toke, she picked up the remote. She wanted to unwind, not get more stressed out watching the perpetually shitty news. Flipping around the channels, she stopped for a few minutes on an old rerun of Cheers. Hell, she thought, I work at a place where nobody knows my name.

Her eyelids were growing heavy. She finished her wine and snuffed out the remainder of the joint. As she made her way to the bedroom, she wondered if she had enough energy to masturbate, but when she crawled under her covers, she fell asleep almost immediately.

She was awaken by the sound of her phone buzzing. Shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight, she fumbled for the phone, and her glasses, on the night stand.

It was her father calling. She pressed accept and, trying not to sound like she'd just woken up, said, "Hi, Dad."

"Hi Rhonda," he replied, "Sounds like I woke you up."

"Oh, no, I...yeah, you did."

"Sorry, pumpkin, sometimes I forget how late you work. How are you?"

She tried to ignore the slight tone of disapproval in his voice. "I'm fine, Dad. How are you, and how's Donald?"

"We're both fit as a fiddle. But listen..."

"Is something wrong?"

"Have you talked to your mother recently?"

Rhonda frowned. "She called on my birthday. That was more than a month ago."

"Well, expect a call."

"Aw, shit."

"Honey, she's drinking again, and she wrecked her car. Of course, then she couldn't go to work...anyway, please, don't give her any more money, okay?"

"I won't"

"Good. It just enables her."

"I know, Dad."

"So...are you still seeing Jeffrey?"

"No, that's been over for months."

"Oh. I'm sorry, honey."

"It's okay."

"Alright. Well, please, be careful."

"I will."

"Love you, hon."

"Love you too, Dad."

Great start to the day, she thought as she put the phone down and got out of bed. It was hot in the apartment. She went into the living room, drew back the curtains and opened the window.

Sunlight sparkled off the swimming pool and she had to shield her eyes with her hand to see across to the other side of the complex. The moving van was still there, and now its back gate was up and there were boxes and small items of furniture sitting on the pavement. The door to one of the downstairs apartments was propped open. Probably more old folks moving in, she thought.

After going to the bathroom and brushing her teeth, she started to get into the shower, but thought that it might be nice to cool off with a dip in the pool instead. She hadn't been in yet this year, and it took her a few minutes of digging through her drawers to find her blue bikini. She put it on and wondered for a second if the fit wasn't a little bit snugger that it had been last summer. She stepped in front of the full length mirror on the bathroom door and looked herself over. She was as pale as a fish's belly; some time in the sun was a good idea. Maybe she needed to work on her tummy a little bit, too. Sherry had hired a baby stripper, probably no more than twenty one or twenty two. Clover was right. It was competition.

She found her flip flops in the closet and a beach towel in the bathroom cupboard, grabbed a can of Diet Coke from the fridge and her Kindle from the coffee table, and went out the door. Her prescription sunglasses were in the glove bar of her car. She fetched them, then padded across the driveway to the pool area.

The complex super had set up a pair of umbrella tables and chairs to go with them, but the chaise lounge chairs were still folded, leaning against the pool fence. Roxanne went through the gate, dropped her things on one of the tables, then dragged a lounge to the side of the pool and opened it. She could hear rock music coming from the open apartment, but did not see anyone.

She sat down at the edge of the pool and dangled her feet into the water. It felt cool and soothing. After a few minutes, she got up her courage, and slipped into the pool. She gasped at the initial cold shock, but quickly adjusted to it, and ducked her head under the water. She swam to the other side, surfaced and pushed her wet hair off her face. There was motion inside of the moving van, but without her glasses, it was just a blur. She backstroked across the pool and climbed out. After toweling off, she put on her sunglasses, took her soda and her Kindle to the chaise lounge and sat down, stretching her legs out in front of her.

She had downloaded the latest Michael Connelly novel, but as she started to read it, she heard a series of loud thumps and looked up. A tangle of unruly brown hair and a pair of gorgeous shoulders emerged from the darkness of the van. At least, that was what she first saw. As she watched, the whole man came cautiously down the ramp. carrying a cardboard box with the word "bedroom" scrawled on it in black magic marker. I'll help you in the bedroom, she thought, chuckling to herself.

He reached the bottom of the ramp, carefully watching his steps, and turned to go into the apartment. He was shirtless, wearing only tight jeans and a pair of Nikes. His muscular back tapered down to a narrow waist and a very squeezable ass.

Rhonda waited a minute for him to come back out. When he did not, she started her book over again, only to be interrupted after a single sentence by his return. She watched again as he unloaded a box and took in it inside. He showed no sign that he had noticed her. She took off her glasses and set down the Kindle. When he went into the truck a third time, she stood and stepped to the edge of the pool. When she saw him start to emerge from the truck, she jumped into the pool, making as loud a splash as possible.

She came up just in time to see his blurry figure disappear through the apartment door. She frowned in disappointment, but he put the box down just inside the door and turned around. She couldn't make out his face well without her glasses, but it appeared that he was looking at her. She swam to the side of the pool and rested her elbows on the edge.

He stepped over to the fence and leaned on it. "Hi," he said, "I'm Bryant." He gestured over his shoulder. "Moving into 2A."

"Welcome to the neighborhood. I'm Rhonda. 15B. Straight across, upstairs." She lifted herself from the pool, swung her legs up, and reclined on her elbow. Even without being able to see his eyes very well, she knew he was checking her out. He stuttered slightly when he spoke again.

"So...uh...you like it here? It seems pretty nice."

"It's nice," she replied, making a conscious point to rub her right foot over her left calf as she said it. "Everyone is pretty friendly. You aren't going to unload that truck all by yourself, are you?"

"No, I'm expecting my brothers to show up any time now to help me." Rhonda could tell he'd broken into a broad smile. "I drove the van, they are bringing my cars."

"You have more than one car? Complex rules only allow one parking space per tenant."

"Well, my baby will have her own place."

"Your baby? You mean your girlfriend?"

Bryant laughed. "No, When I say my baby, I have a fully restored 1967 Mustang convertible. I would never keep it outside. I rented a storage space for it."

"That sounds pretty cool," Rhonda said, "Maybe you can be a friendly neighbor, and take me for a ride in it sometime."

"I'd love to. Hey I'm new in town and don't know my way around. Maybe Saturday we could take a drive, you could show me around, we could get some dinner."

"I work Saturday night. How about Sunday?"

"Sure. Sunday. Well, I better get back to work. I guess we'll see each other around the place between now and then."

"I guess we will."

Rhonda turned and slid into the water. When she climbed back out on the other side, she looked over her shoulder. He was still standing by the fence, watching her. She went back to her seat, put on her glasses, and as she toweled herself dry, casually glanced over and waved at him. She got her first good look at his face. Thank god he's really cute, she thought, because I just put a big hook in him.

CHAPTER TWO

The Gold Dollar Lounge and Showbar sat at the west end of the parking lot of the Pine Tree Plaza shopping center, in a building that had once been a Bonanza Steakhouse. At the other end of the lot, TJ's Citgo station was the only other business in the plaza that was still open daily. The former K-Mart, once the center's anchor, housed the U-Save flea market on Saturdays, but sat empty the rest of the week.

When the Gold Dollar opened, the plaza was bustling with business. But over the years, the appliance store was replaced by a nail salon, and the Blockbuster Video gave way to first a Chinese restaurant, then a comic Book store, until, eventually, neither space displayed anything more than whitewashed windows and yellowing For Rent signs. All that remained was TJ's and the Gold Dollar. People still needed to put gas in their cars, and men still liked to look at nearly naked women.

Across the four lanes of Highway Seven, the empty shell of Atlas Metal Fabricating, once the source of the Gold Dollar's lunchtime rush, sat silent but for the cooing of the hundreds of pigeons that roosted in its rafters. There were still a few scattered small factories along the road, interspersed between the double wides, auto repair shops and patches of scrub woods. Heading east, the trailers gave way to small retail businesses and single family homes that gradually grew larger and finer closer to the center of town.

Misty pulled into the plaza, swerving to miss the pothole that had been growing in the middle of the entrance lane for years. She made a big looping turn and parked near in front of the Gold Dollar. As she climbed out of her car, she heard an engine rev and turned to see a silver Lexus veer into the lot and hit the pothole she'd just dodged. It bottomed out with a loud thump, and she saw a startled blonde head pop up from beneath the dashboard. The Lexus rolled to a stop, and the blonde leaned over to kiss the driver, an older man with hair that matched his ride. He turned his head, and the girl kissed his cheek.