Just Addicted
IT TURNS INTO A WEIRD night. Our show at Bix starts out great. Halfway into it, Frank gets some unwelcome news from an unwelcome source. His lady’s ex-fiancé came to our show and told Frank something Mikey should have told him. He says he’s okay, but I know better. I also know to give him space until he wants to talk about it. Frank is not the type who needs people to push him to open up. He will come to you when he needs you and no sooner. He’ll come to me.
He thinks I don’t know he calls me all sorts of names, denies being my best friend and secretly wants to kill me sometimes. I do know all these things. We have been friends a long time and there’s no one other than Jack that I consider more a part of my family. Frank know this too and he values my friendship, even though he’d be loathed to admit that. I’d do anything for him. Even put up with his surly ass and the sometimes hurtful things he says to me.
We finish our show around 10 pm and I take care of Frank’s stuff so he can bolt out and deal with talking to Mikey. I drive home, put our gear away and then call a cab. I don’t even change out of my tuxedo—we get really classy when we play Bix. When I arrive at Lady Marmalade, it’s well after 11 and it’s an intermission. I take my reserved table and nurse a whiskey on the rocks. Feels like a whiskey kind of night.
The lights go all the way dark except for a single spotlight in the corner of the stage. A song I recognize as a slowed down version of Teardrop by Massive Attack plays. Very slowly and seductively a stockinged leg slinks into the spotlight, followed by a gloved hand, then followed by a huge dark green feathered fan and then another matching fan. With both fans covering her body, Betsy steps out fully into the spotlight. Her hair is again in some complicated braid situation with the rest cascading down her back. Her stockings are a sparkling black and thigh-high connected with garters. Other than the delicate stilettos I can’t tell if she’s wearing anything else since the feathers cover her torso.
The dance she does is complicated and such an artful tease I can barely stay seated. Betsy works the fans so that we never know what she’s hiding. It’s sexy, seductive and stunning. Just like her. About halfway through the song, she’s joined by some other dancers and I realize this is the finale dance. My eyes stay glued to the only dancer that matters. When the song comes to an end, a raunchy jazzy instrumental starts and people start whistling and whooping. Each dancer one at a time takes a walk across the stage, ending with a sharp close of their fan, revealing the various states of nudity. There’s no downstairs action, Betsy had mentioned that it was topless and g-string only. No full frontal, which initially I thought was boring, but boy was I wrong.
Still, I couldn’t look away from Betsy. She continues to dance and move her fans until it’s her turn and she’s the only one on stage once again. She draws out the tease a little more until finally, she raises the fans overhead, displaying her gorgeous body. Her only other piece of clothing is the tiniest little sparkly g-string. Her tattoos are on full display and are stunning. Nothing matches her lovely face though, and I know I’m probably the only person not focusing on her heaving breasts, but on her glittering eyes. She’s looking right at me and I know she sees me. Whether she knows it’s me is the mystery.
The lights go down and then seconds later the house lights are on. I make my way down the stairs to the side exit. As I’m leaving, I turn my attention down the long hallway and at the end I see Betsy. She’s in a feathery robe and is staring in my direction. I turn and head out the side door and jump in a waiting cab. As it pulls from the curb, I see her at the door chatting with some fans, her eyes set on the cab. I think the jig is up.
* * *
I’m home for all of ten minutes when I hear the front door open and then slam shut. I’ve managed to get my tux off and hung up back in my closet, a quick shower and am sitting in my chair when she knocks on my door.
“Bets?” I ask. Knowing full well it’s her.
She opens the door and enters. Her hair is down and natural and her face is make-up free. She’s wearing a long coat and when she takes it off, I can see that she’s still wearing the feathery robe and not much else. “Hey, you look cozy,” she says, looking me over. “How was Bix?”
“It was interesting,” I say. “Frank got some bad news in the middle so the second half wasn’t our best showing.” She is standing directly in front of me and I idly rub her fancy robe in between my fingers. “You should go change and I’ll tell you the whole story.”
She leans down, pushing my shoulders back. “I will, I really want to hear the whole story, Joe. The whole story.”
I get her meaning and I have no idea why I’m playing this silly game with her. Obviously, she knows I’ve been coming to her shows and not said anything. I think I’m just going to keep playing dumb about it unless she asks me point blank which she has yet to do. I’m leaning back in the chair when I hear her shuffle back into the room. She’s in short shorts and a tank top and I’m regretting having her change. She plops down on the ottoman and places her feet in my lap. I laugh but take a foot and start to rub her instep.
“Lay it on me, Joe,” she says and I dig a little deeper into her foot.
“My friend, Fucking Frank, has been dating Mikey for a while now but she lives in Sonoma and he lives here in the city, Outer Sunset. They are spooky together, like twins. They were born the same day in the same hospital at the same time. They have the same hipster clothing style and wear the same shit all the time—it’s fucking weird if you ask me.” I shrug. “They make it work though and are really good for each other. They are going through a rough spot because of the living situation and Mikey’s job. She’s a winemaker so location is important.”
“I get that. Who wants a long-distance relationship? Sounds lonely.” She stares out my window as she says this and it hits me that she may be projecting a bit. I know she’s a loner, but I didn’t think she was sad about it.
“Definitely not Frank, he’s a stage five clinger,” I say and she laughs. “Anyway, they’ve been figuring it out and then her ex, stupid fucker named Archie, came to our show tonight and told Frank that Mikey had taken a job with her parents and was looking at real estate in Calistoga. My Frankie boy was all bent out of shape because she trusted this d-bag instead of him, the guy she’s in love with. Frank got all sensitive about it and left after our last set. I brought his bass home and I’ve been hanging.”
She eyes me warily. “Poor Frank. I understand him being upset. Sounds like there was a breakdown in communication mixed with some trust issues. I hope they work it out.”
My hand moves to her other foot and we sit quietly, staring while I dig into her other foot. It feels a little bit like she’s staring me down, but I’m the master at staring contests so she gets nowhere. I finish my foot rub and just hold her feet in my hands and stare at them. She has cute feet and I tell her that.
“You have the cutest feet.”
She pulls her legs from my lap and stands. “I know,” she says and leaves my room.
“Goodnight?” I ask and she doesn’t hear me.