“I’m on the way in,” Lolo said, jumping onto a barstool in a far corner, away from the men at the bar. “I can talk to you, but I have to get dressed. Can I get a ginger ale?”
“Just ginger ale?”
“I can’t have alcohol. I’m not twenty-one.”
“I’ll be back,” I told Nell, who said nothing in reply, seemingly lost in the music and the sight of Dovey on the pole, removing a pin to loose the shining blue-black curtain of her waist-length hair. She seemed to regard Dovey as though the dancer was some sort of rare creature in the wild rather than a very fit fortysomething grandmother. Because Dovey had a daughter older than Lolo, and said daughter had a baby of her own. I just couldn’t believe that. I buzzed Lily and asked if she could cover the bar for me, just for fifteen minutes, while I followed Lolo to talk to her, or at least try to, while she changed into her work costume. Not particularly happy about it, Lily agreed. I liked Lily, and I didn’t want to burn any bridges. I had always been a short-timer, but now I had to make the most of the little time I had. There was no need for finesse, if I’d ever demonstrated any. Nodding Lolo toward the back room, I told Nell I’d be right back and asked her what she thought.
“I’m trying to come up with what I think. I would neverhave thought it was so pretty and artful. And it is sexy too,” she said. She pointed to Dovey. “I don’t know whether I’m attracted to her, or I wish I was her. I could never do that, Reenie. And I don’t mean I could never let myself be seen like that. I mean I could no more do that than I could do a triple flip on figure skates. It seems like that kind of talent should be doing something more in the world.”
“Maybe she doesn’t think of it the way we do,” I said. “Her grown daughter works here too. That’s her, the one I’m going to interview.”
“Her daughter?” Nell said, with a gasp. “She has a grown daughter?”
In the dressing room, I glanced into the mirror. Lily must have despaired of my clothing and cursory nature-girl makeup, but that day, I just couldn’t face the contour stick and five coats of mascara. Lolo was adjusting her hair extension, an elaborate confection of curls, securing it to her long ponytail with clips that looked like dragon jaws. When she had it all in place, it looked like some kind of small monument on her head. “I just want to ask you if you can tell me anything about Felicity that would shine some light on what happened with her.”
“Why she killed somebody?”
“Well, yes.”
“I don’t know if she killed somebody,” Lolo said. “But I know she was unhappy. Crazy unhappy. She would sit in the back and eat a whole box of vanilla wafers by herself. That wasn’t Felicity. She was Miss Apple Slices and Carrot Sticks. Not like me, I couldn’t care less. Give me a box of hot biscuits and I’ll make them disappear.” For the first time, I noticed that Lolo had a slight Southern accent and a sprinkling of gingery freckles.
“Where is home for you?” I asked her.
“Mom grew up in North Carolina. It’s a shithole where she grew up. My grandparents live there, the meanest people in theworld. My dad lives with them. They don’t approve of my mom being white. So it’s much better here. Although there are good things there too. My dad’s sisters, they’re great. And it’s warm.”
“How did you end up in Wisconsin?”
“My mom has a sister here.”
“Are your parents divorced?” I didn’t know how to ask if they were married, and I also didn’t know why I would wonder that—was it because both of them were strippers?
“No, they’re still married. He just lives there. We go every other month, holidays, all summer.” She stuck in one more taloned clip.
“Is it weird to see your mom strip?”
Lolo laughed as she pulled open a bag of fiery hot Doritos. The unmistakable smell assaulted the room. How could something that tasted so good reek so bad? I had seen Lolo eat her meal before. A whole bag of Doritos, a whole pint of tabouleh, a pint of coleslaw, a full-size bag of Famous Amos. She weighed maybe ninety pounds.
“It’s very weird,” she said. “Especially if you know Dovey and you know that she has a heart attack if you open her bedroom door when she’s getting dressed, or God forbid, walk in when she’s in the shower. She would really prefer you to pee outside or hold it for twenty minutes while she takes her very long, use-up-all-the-hot-water shower. I have never seen my mother use the toilet, ever.” I imagined what it would be like for me to watch Miranda remove her clothing in front of a room of leering, tipsy guys. The image was outlandish... However, the thought of my doing the same thing with Miranda standing there was utterly appalling.
“I don’t know why I asked that,” I told Lolo.
“Natural question. I guess my mom and I are a little bit unusual. You would not meet a lot of mother-and-daughter strippers.”
“You never performed... together, did you?”
Lolo rolled her eyes. “Jesus Christ, no! That would make mepuke!” She said then, “There is totally nothing in the way of a turn-on about stripping, Renee. It’s just working.”
“Reenie.”
“I’m sorry, sure. For somebody who gets called Lulu all the time I should know better. Anyway, there’s nothing sexy about it. It’s like going to aerobics class. It’s bad enough we work at the same time because we only have one car. And she’s always criticizing me.”
“For taking too much off?”
“No, for looking like I’m miserable, which I am. You’re quitting and I am too. In like a month, when I save enough to go back home. Dovey says she’s going to go too. Lily will lose her shit. Not to mention Jack. Jack calls me ‘the tulip.’”
It occurred to me that, after standing in the dressing room for fifteen minutes, I hadn’t asked Lolo anything of importance. And I’d left Nell at the bar. So I hurried to ask, “Okay, why was Felicity unhappy?”
Lolo began to apply her false eyelashes. “I thought it was because she gained weight. She was miserable about that.” She added, “She did gain weight. But she was too super skinny before. She looked really good.”
