Page 6 of Pretty and Loco

Back outside, the music stopped, and an Atlanta artist was performing. We bypassed the crowd of people bobbing their heads, dancing, and surrounding the stage because Speedy was on a mission to find the club.

“MVP. Mr. Speed. How’s it going?” We heard someone call from behind us. It was Coach, dressed in a judge's robe.

“We good, Coach, this shit is dope,” Speedy complimented as we shook his hand.

“You enjoying yourself?” He asked with pride.

“Yeah.” We answered in unison.

“Good.”

“Ay coach, where’s the club?” Speedy asked, his glossy eyes still searching wildly for it.

“Right there, next to the big yellow sign. Enjoy your night. Glad you got this one out of the house.” He laughed, put a cigar to his lips, and then patted each of us on the shoulder, letting us go.

It was a short walk until we reached the sign Coach had pointed at, and then we were outside a nightclub that had been transformed for the occasion.

The name outside had been changed to “Tricks & Treats.”

The bouncer at the door dapped us up before asking if he could take a picture with us. I stood there for a second, waiting for him to pull his phone out of his pocket, then leaned in for a picture. Once we finished, he let us inside the building without patting us down, as he had done to the people before us.

“Preciate it,” I said to him before we stepped past the velvet ropes.

This wasn’t just a club; this was a strip club. About five dancers entertained a semi-large crowd. They walked around completely naked, only wearing costumes that were painted on their bodies.

Most people were outside at the performance. So, I was glad that there weren’t too many people in the small space. We went inside, bought a section, and got some ones.

As soon as we sat down, the woman dressed as the Pink Panther came over to us and started dancing on Speedy. We let the money rain on her, and for the first time tonight I felt like I could finally loosen up and enjoy the moment. I was on my second cup, and I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me when I saw a woman walk past me and wink. I blinked, but it wasn’t the alcohol; it was the woman from the museum—the doll.

I slid off the back of the couch and went in that direction. She walked through the crowd of people like she had somewhere to be, but I pulled her hand. She turned around with an attitude before her expression softened when she realized it was me.

“You in a rush?” I asked, leaning in to speak over the music.

“I have business to handle,” she said, biting her lip nervously.

“Come see me when you’re done.”

She nodded. Then I let go of her hand, and we parted ways.

I was sitting in the section for a while. Maybe thirty minutes had passed. We got another set of ones; the floor of the section we were in was flooded, and some of our teammates joined us.

The stripper who was painted like a police officer was sitting in my lap, dancing when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

The doll leaned into my ear and said, “I found you.”

“Shit, I wasn’t trying to make you look,” I admitted, giving her my undivided attention.

“Can I steal you for a moment?” she asked.

I nodded and then tapped the waist of the dancer in my lap so I could get up. I gave her the rest of the money I was holding, and then the doll and I made our way through the crowd. She pulled me toward the very back, into an empty part of the club and pressed a button that made the lights turn green.

“What’s your name?” she asked me as she leaned against the wall. From where we were, it was easier to hear each other without screaming.

“Rocko.”

“Leah.” She said, placing her hand in mine, then holding it a little longer than normal.

“I hope you don’t mind me interrupting your dance.” She laughed.