Diamond Girl Page 3

  “Uh huh,” she replied, “He’s such a fuck-wad.”

  “Brenda,” I said, my tone cautioning her to just let it go, “How have things been with you?”

  “Everything’s good; Shawn is playing junior high football; Megan is doing well with her piano lessons; George still fucks me at least three times a week.”

  “Braggart,” I said, with a smile. We both laughed and the mood lightened.

  I loved my best friend but our worlds were different. That was just the way that it was. She had finished high school and college; married George; had two great kids; a boy and then a girl. She had done everything right. Her life was the American dream; it was the way that things were supposed to work out. We made plans to meet the following day. I needed to shop for new clothes she had pointed out very bluntly. She was right.

  I was surprised that Jack was home by the time I got there. He had been in Charlotte, North Carolina for the past three days on business. Banion Pharmaceuticals had plans to open a large distribution center on the east coast.

  Jack had been negotiating with members of the Chamber of Commerce both in Charlotte and in Charleston, South Carolina for tax incentives. The two cities were competing with each other to be awarded the location where the facility would be built. It would employ up to five hundred people when completed.

  He had just finished up in the shower when I came into our bedroom. I made it a point to undress in front of him, hoping that he would notice and perhaps get the hint.

  “How was your trip?” I asked, kicking off my shoes and lifting my sweatshirt up and over my head.

  “Brutal,” he replied, getting his nail clipper from the top of his dresser. “I have to fly to Charleston on Friday. Our meeting is early Monday morning, so I figured I would have the weekend to prepare my presentation.”

  I slipped my sweat pants off, and unhooked my sports bra springing my breasts free. I had always been rather proud of them; they were still full and perky. I sauntered by Jack who was now sitting on the bed, clipping his toenails. I got clean underwear from the drawer and sat down on the bed next to him.

  He finally looked up at me, noticing that I was practically naked in front of him. His eyes narrowed infinitesimally as he actually looked at me for the first time in weeks.

  “Have you lost weight, Sammie?”

  “It’s nice of you to finally notice, Jack.”

  “Have you been feeling well?” he asked.

  “Yes. I feel great. I’ve been working out; getting in shape. What do you think?”

  “I think that you’ve probably lost all of the weight you need to lose. If you get much scrawnier, people will think that you’re ill.”

  “Hey, “I said, moving closer to him on the bed, “How about I go with you to Charleston. We’ll have a romantic weekend together. We have not gone away together alone for as long as I can remember. This would be perfect.”

  “Babe,” he said with a sigh, getting up off of the bed, “The whole point of me going down Friday and staying over the weekend is to prepare for Monday’s meeting. I mean you know how it is with me. I need that total concentration - no distractions when I’m preparing for a big presentation. How about a rain check?”

  “Sure,” I said, “I’ll just list that in our rain check voucher. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to cash in on all of these IOUs.”

  Jack didn’t even bother to respond.

  Well, so much for that, I thought. No mention of how my legs, arms, and abs had gotten into shape with ample muscle tone. No mention of how he missed our making love since it had been months now. I guess that was too much to expect from my mannequin husband. Christ, I was sounding like Brenda now. Maybe she was right. Bottom line - I was getting sick to death of Jack’s impassiveness towards me. Maybe I needed to take the next step in getting a life of my own.

  I sauntered into the bathroom and took a shower. I decided I would start looking for a part-time job as soon as possible. I needed more things of my own.

  CHAPTER 4

  It was the final day of our pole-dancing lessons. Vonda and I were chatting in the locker room after showers.

  “So, aren’t you glad you finished the lessons?” she asked, towel drying her flaming red hair. “Ginger certainly gave you kudos today after your number. I was a bit jealous, Sam; did you hire a choreographer to put that together?”

  I knew Vonda was being funny; she loved to tease me about how well I was doing with the whole pole-dancing thing.

  “Ha ha, Vonda,” I replied, smiling, “You certainly didn’t do too badly in Ginger’s eyes as I recall.”

  “Honey, she was just being nice to the old lady in the group. Plus, I’m the one who cuts the check for her hefty fee.”

  “Yeah, right. You know you have the body of a thirty-five year old,” I chided.

  “Aren’t you thirty-five?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Well honey, I certainly don’t have a body like yours; though I’ll take the compliment. Thank you. Of course, you have to recognize your body has gone younger since you’ve been coming here.”

  “Gone younger?”

  “Absolutely. You’ve got the bod of a twenty-something since you’ve started working out. Now if we could just do something about your hair and make-up.”

  I rolled my eyes as I put a clean sweatshirt on over my head.

  “Roll your eyes all you want; I mean it, though. Plus, you still wear clothes that cover all of your toned muscles and ligaments. What a shame.” She was shaking her head and ‘tsking’ me.

  I closed the door of my locker, fastening the lock into place.

  “Hey Vonda, you wouldn’t be in need of any part-time help here, would you?”

  “You aren’t seriously looking for a job are you? Come on Sam, I know you don’t open up a lot about your personal life, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I see the car you drive; the brand of clothes and shoes you wear; I have a hard time believing you need money.”

  “It’s not really about the money,” I replied, tying the shoelaces on my Nike Air Max shoes. “I just want something of my own I guess. A job working here would give me that, plus I would be doing what I love to do.”

  Vonda was thoughtful for a moment.

  “You know Sam; I don’t have anything at the moment. My tight-ass husband does the books for this place and he keeps telling me to cut back as it is, but I might have something else for you. I just need to talk to my sister, Janine.”

  “Janine?”

  “Yeah, Janine manages a gentleman’s club over on West Washington Street; with your looks and dance skills, I’m sure she might be able to hook you up with some part-time hours.”

  “Uhh . . . Vonda, I’m not thinking of stripping or giving lap dances - I was thinking more along the lines of personal trainer, maybe?”

  “Well good luck with that, sweetie. But before you slam the door on my suggestion, let me clarify it for you. This club has a variety of clientele. Granted, late night and early morning hours the clientele wants to see a lot of skin and private dancing. I know that’s not your gig, sweetie. I was thinking maybe she could hook you up with an early shift. That’s when there is more interest from the after five businessmen in viewing pole dancing with the classier chicks. That way, you will be doing what you love, right?”

  “Well, I don’t know. I mean I’ve never pictured myself as being a dancer at a gentleman’s club. I mean, what do they wear?”

  “Very little,” she answered, honestly. “What are you worried about?”

  “I don’t think I’m the type, Vonda. It is just not me, you know?”

  “What is you, Sam?”

  I hesitated trying to think about how I visualized myself; all I came up with was how other people visualized me. I was visualized as a daughter; a wife; a mother; a best friend by those people in my life, but I had no clue as to how I viewed myself as a person. I had never bothered to carve out an identity for myself.

  “That’s what I thought,” Vonda replied
with a smirk. “Look, before you shoot the idea down, visit Janine at the club. I’ll give her a call and see if she can meet with you some afternoon next week. See you Monday?”

  “I’ll be here,” I said, giving her a weak smile. I convinced myself on my drive home that there would be no harm in at least meeting Janine and seeing what the club was like. I sincerely doubted that pole dancing at a gentleman’s club was the identity I truly wished to carve out for myself.

  I spent the weekend cleaning the house. Jack was in Charlotte again; this time he had mentioned the fact that Susanne was accompanying him as they were meeting with the city government officials to wrap up the deal. The decision had been made to build the distribution center in Charlotte. Jack had said he’d be gone a week this time. They were meeting with surveyors and contractors.

  I was fairly certain that Jack was fucking Susanne. His increased obsession with his looks and wardrobe had not gone unnoticed by me. I was surprised at my own impassiveness about the situation. Perhaps having gained some self-confidence these past couple of months had given me some perspective on my marriage. Brenda was right; Jack was a mannequin; correction: Jack was a cheating mannequin.

  I was putting some of the new clothes I had purchased into our large, walk-in closet. I had to shove Jack’s clothes over to make room. He had one whole side of the closet, and half of mine. Brenda had pointed out how unacceptable it was that Jack had a much larger wardrobe than me.

  On second thought, his clothes were all going to the other side. I wasn’t going to have my new wardrobe getting wrinkled because they were all crowded together. I removed handfuls of hangers with Jack’s shirts and sweaters on them and hung them on the bar on his side of the closet. There. His clothes could get smashed together now. My Blackberry chimed from the bedroom. It was Lindsey.

  “Hi Mom,” she greeted cheerily from the other end, “I’ve been worried about you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “You don’t call me as often as you used to; I’m beginning to think you don’t miss me anymore.”

  “Sweetie, you know better than that. I just know you’re busy with college; I’ve been trying to find some hobbies of my own to fill the void.”

  “I am so glad to hear you say that, Mom. What have you been doing?”

  “I’ve been doing kick-boxing and Pilates.”

  “No really Mom. I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  “Really? Well, that is fantastic. It just doesn’t seem like you. So are you enjoying it?”

  “I love it,” I replied, honestly. “I had to buy all new clothes though.”

  “You were due, Mom. I’m really happy that you are finally doing stuff for yourself. How does Daddy like it?”

  “I’m not sure he’s really noticed, Lindsey.”

  “I’m sure that he has, Mom. You know Daddy; he’s just not one to make a big deal out of anything. Is he home?”

  “No sweetie; he’s in Charlotte for a week or so. He finally tied up the deal with locating the new distribution facility for Banion. He’s been pretty distracted.”

  “Well see then,” she replied, giving him the benefit of the doubt for his lack of attention to me, “I’m sure once that facility is up and running Daddy will have more time to spend with you.”

  She didn’t realize that the distraction was not the distribution facility; it was Susanne.

  “How are your classes going?”

  “For the most part fine; the usual struggles with chemistry and trig. No surprises there. I have an upperclassman tutoring me. He’s totally hot so it is kind of distracting.”

  “Lindsey,” I laughed, “Your dad and me aren’t paying that kind of tuition for you to be distracted.”

  “No worries, Mom. He is totally about the tutoring, trust me.” I breathed a silent sigh of relief. Lindsey had gone through a painful break-up the previous summer with her high school sweetheart, Lance. I had done my best to soothe her pain all the while really wanting to tell her that it was probably the best thing that could have happened. I had seen a lot of Jack in Lance; I wanted better for my daughter.

  “Mom, I’m still planning to come home for Christmas. I’m sticking around here for Thanksgiving. One of the girls in the dorm has invited me to her family’s home in Connecticut. We’re going to do a little skiing. Are you okay with that?”

  “That’s fine, Lindsey. I’m not even sure what we will be doing. Your grandparents are still in Hawaii until after the first of the year. Things have sure changed in a year, I guess.”

  “You sound sad, Mom. If you want me to come home, I will.”

  “No sweetie; I’m fine. You stick with your plans, okay?”

  “Okay - if you’re sure.”

  “I am, sweetie.”

  CHAPTER 5

  I was sitting at the bar at ‘Jewels’ waiting for Janine to finish chewing out one of the employees in her office. Kevin, the bartender, had given me a glass of club soda to drink. He had chatted with me for a few minutes; I picked up on a distinct Boston accent. It was just after 11:30 a.m. The club officially opened in ninety minutes. I looked about, studying the layout. There were three separate horseshoe shaped stages with seating around each. Towards the back, there was a sunken seating area with round tables and cushioned seats. I figured those separate seating areas were for customers requesting private attention from a dancer.

  The thought of doing lap dances or dancing privately for a customer did not appeal to me whatsoever. Vonda had assured me that the club offered a variety of different types of dancers; she had let Janine know that I was only interested in pole dancing. The fact that I was here waiting to be interviewed by Janine meant that she must have been receptive to my conditions.

  The door to Janine’s office opened; a teary-eyed, twenty something girl came out. Her face was blotchy from crying. I felt sorry for her without even knowing why. She couldn’t have been more than very early twenties. I cringed at the thought of Lindsey ever having to make her living in a place like this.

  What the hell? I was here fully prepared to do just that; what a contradiction. I rationalized that I wasn’t here to really earn a living; I was here to find my identity. That made it more palatable in my mind.

  I saw a woman who I presumed to be Janine poke her head out of the office and look over towards me.

  “Are you Samantha?”

  “Uh, yes - Janine?”

  “You guessed it, sweetie. Come on in.”

  I made my way over to her office; she closed the door behind us and instructed me to take off my coat. I had worn a pair of my new, tight jeans with a clingy spandex top, and three inch, heeled boots. This was done per Vonda’s strict instructions. ‘She has to see your body, sweetie,’ she had explained. Vonda had also told me to wear a bikini underneath my clothes for my dancing demo. I had been forced to order one online since it wasn’t actually bikini season in Indianapolis. I had paid more to have it next day aired than for the bikini itself. It was a simple black bikini trimmed in gold. I thought it had a classy appeal to it.

  “So, Red says you’re looking for some part-time shifts; pole dancing only. Let me take a look at you.”

  “Red?”

  “Oh sorry. That’s what I call my sister Vonda; that hair of hers is something else.” She lifted my shirt up to look at my bare stomach.

  “Nice and flat tummy; no stretch marks; those tits your own?”

  “What? Oh - uh yeah they are mine.”

  “Lower your jeans, hon; Red says you have a perky tush that is to die for.”

  I felt myself blush. I hadn’t done that in ages. I hadn’t had cause to do that in ages. I unfastened my jeans, kicking my boots off and lowered my jeans, stepping out of them.

  “Now turn around please.”

  I did as instructed, letting Janine peruse my bikini clad body.

  “Red is right. You have the body for this place. Need to see what you can do on the pole, though; follow me.”

  I followed Janine back
out into the main room. She headed over to the jukebox, asking me what song I wanted for my dance.

  “Is ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’ by Def Leppard on there?”

  “Honey, this is satellite music; we can get anything your little heart desires. Def Leppard it is.”

  'Boston Kevin' was still behind the bar, setting up glassware I noticed as I took the stage. He was totally impassive to my dance demo which made me more comfortable. It was probably old hat to him anyway.

  The music started; this was the song I had used for my dance at Foxy’s. Ginger had given me a 9.5 out of a perfect 10 score. I now put everything out of my mind. I let the music take over. The length and width of the horseshoe stage allowed for lots of creativity. There were three poles spaced apart on each stage. I executed perfect form on my spins and climbs; twirling around and around on my triple snowflake. I ended the song with my upside down twirl, hooking my outside leg around the pole, my arms outstretched, my back arched as I descended down the pole, my legs outstretched into straddle splits at the end, my head bowed down, my face buried behind my forearms that were now clutched in front of me.

  “Not bad; not bad at all, girlie. Let’s talk.”

  I followed Janine back into her office. I put my shirt and jeans back on while she gave me the lowdown on the club. There was an open slot left by the previous dancer, Diamond. Janine was willing to give me a shot at filling it.

  All of the dancers had stage names. My name would be ‘Diamond.’ She cautioned me about giving personal information out to the other dancers or the clientele.

  “This isn’t a strip club; this isn’t a whore house. We provide entertainment to mostly male clients; most of them are regulars; a lot of them are wealthy. I don’t know your particular situation, Samantha, but I have a feeling you are a babe in the woods even at your ripe old age of thirty-five.”

  I started to say something, but Janine held her hand up to let her continue.

  “I only know your age because Red told me. You look and dance like you’re twenty-five; trust me, if you looked your age we wouldn’t be having this conversation. That’s not a jab, honey; thirty-five is still young in my book, but in this business it is a rarity to have anyone past thirty dancing. It’s a shame because these young girls don’t have their shit together. That’s where problems can and do occur. Diamond is gone because she made coke and 'percs her priority over everything else. My dancers need to stay clean. I know that isn’t an issue for you. I can tell.”