Chapitre 19: Chapter 19: Unlicensed Therapists, Part 2

"But there's no really 'moving on,' is there?" I said. "The pain is still in there, deep down; you just become stronger as days go by. And realize the entire world has deep, hidden pain."

"Fuckin' right." We both paused and watched Heaven jiggle to 'Anaconda.'

"So." I turned to him again and pointed at him. "You're fucked up." I raised my hand proudly. "I know I'm fucked up." I spread my arms to include the entire club. "We are all fucked up, in one way or another. But we can't fix everyone. We can't "fix" anyone, including the ones we love."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not trying to fix her, because I know that she's going to do whatever she wants. I know she's gonna keep on lying, keep on stealing, keep on hiding the pills, and even though I can see that her eyes are these tiny little dots, she's gonna keep on lyin' about the meth." He paused, took another drink. "But I love her so goddamn much."

I knew he meant it. Sure, he was here in a strip club looking at half-naked women, but when a relationship is obviously unhealthy, people do obviously unhealthy things to satisfy whatever is lacking in said relationship. Maybe they were co-dependent on each other. Maybe love is just an agreement of co-dependence, no matter what you do.

A dancer who was walking the floor smiled at us, more specifically at him. He raised his drink to say, "We're occupied."

"Well, you can't fix her, and she's going to make her own choices," I said. "I guess the question is, do you love her enough to stick with her during her darkest days? I'm not saying you have to answer or anything, but's always the question, isn't it? Is our love bigger than their pain? Is your love bigger than the pain you know she'll put you through?"

He paused.

"I think so. We've been through so much together. I know that if I leave that she'll just continue to spiral, and I don't want to be the one responsible for putting her over the edge."

I searched for the right combination of words. "I… don't think you'll be responsible. She's gonna do what she's gonna do. But you can protect yourself in the meantime. Keep a close watch on your wallet. Take care of yourself, so you can take care of her. Then leave the rest up to God, or the Universe, or the fucking Flying Spaghetti Monster."

He laughed into his beer.

"Right on."

We fell silent and admired the next dancer onstage.

"So," he turned toward me. "If I can ask, what are you doing here?"

"Um, I mean, I'm just trying to pay the bills."

"No, I mean, what are you doing here, at Lipstick? You could dance at so many better clubs."

"Really?"

"Yeah, this place is a piece of shit. You're hot enough and you got a rockin' body. You could dance at Baby Dolls or Cabaret Royale."

I thought about it. I had tried to go to Baby Dolls first, but they had roundly rejected my first attempt.

"I mean, I tried to go to Baby Dolls, but for whatever reason they said they 'weren't hiring at this time.'"

"Man, fuck 'em. Go to Cabaret Royale, they'll totally hire you. You're thin enough, don't have tattoos, and you skin is…the right shade. This place is for fat chicks and old dancers."

I playfully shoved his shoulder. "They are not fat! Don't say that. Many of these girls are thick, and there is a difference."

"Yeah, but not to the managers. Seriously, just go up there one day in a hot dress, and they'll take you on. How much do you typically earn here?"

"About 200 per day."

"Pshhh. You could easily earn twice that at Cabaret. They actually get a decent number of customers, and they're the ones who are willing to pay, not like these Mexicans who come in during their construction break for a beer."

I couldn't argue that many of the customers at Lipstick could barely speak English and came in with paint-stained jeans. I also couldn't argue that the average customer only paid for about 2 dances before calling it quits. However, change inevitably scares me. I was nervous to leave the dancers, to leave the House Mom, to leave my very first club.

But the money whispered my name in its siren song. It's a dark world inside the strip club. The problem is that the shiny lights blind you to it.

"Ok, I'll check it out. Thanks man."

"No problem." He drained the last of his second beer. "I should get going. You take care of yourself, though, huh?"

Funny. I would have thought he needed that sentiment more.

"Hey, you too. And don't worry. You and your girlfriend are going to be ok. I hope she gets help. And I hope…I mean, love conquers all, right?"

"Haha, sure. Here." He reached into his pocket for his wallet. "I don't want to be a complete douchebage and have wasted your time." He gave me a 20.

"Thanks, I really appreciate this." And I meant it. Sometimes, when you don't have a lot to give, just the smallest gesture goes a long way. True, I had spent the better part of an hour with him when I could have been walking the floor, trying to find someone to pay for multiple dances, but…sometimes you just have to talk to another human being for a while.

I took his advice. I drove up to Cabaret Royale, and I immediately saw that he was right: the club was huge. The parking lot was easily three times the size of Lipstick's, there was a separate wing for administration, and it was two-storied.

This could actually be a real club. I walked in and asked to see the manager. A youngish-looking bald white guy came up and said, "Yes, how can I help you?"

I put on my biggest Dallas smile and said, "Hi, my name is Ariel, and I would like to work here as a dancer."

He looked me up and down, saw my size-4 waist with my size-6 hips and 36-D bra size. Moment of truth.

"Have you worked anywhere else before?"

"Yes, I work at Lipstick, but a friend referred me here."

"So you have a stage name, already?"

"YesRose."

"Well, Rose, we'd love to have you. Just get your fingerprints taken and have them send them over. I can print out your contract and give it to you next time."

I left Lipstick without saying goodbye.

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