9. CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER EIGH T
GRETCHEN
I wake up the next morning flustered from my active hippocampus, which kept me dreaming about Brady all through the night. Dreaming, remembering. I’m not sure.
I’m probably just ovulating , I decide.
Because I can't help myself, I call Jenna and I gush about running into Brady in his new role as Zorro. She lets me go on like the good friend she is, ultimately reminding me that the universe works in funny ways.
After our impromptu therapy session, I make the conscious decision to put my brief dance with Brady out of my mind.
Yes, it was insanely hot and yes, it’s true that no man has ever danced with me like that before, but it was probably his last time ever doing it, and that’s fine.
I can’t afford to be distracted while I’m working, anyway.
I didn’t like the way Arrow spoke to me, scolding me like a child for – for doing what, exactly?
For stepping outside? As if that was some egregious offense?
Well, lesson learned. If I want to keep this job, at least for now, I can't allow myself to get rattled.
Lucky for me, today is Saturday, so I have a chance to redeem myself.
Summer Saturdays on Cape Cod are the worst. It’s something us locals refer to as “turnover day,” meaning all of the tourists in weekly rentals will be leaving and all of the following week’s tourists will be arriving.
If you live here, you know never to make important plans to go somewhere off-Cape unless you’re in the mood to sit in hours of bridge traffic on Route 6.
I always use Saturday mornings for laundry, taking a walk on the Rail Trail (if I feel the need to be extra healthy, since it’s also the day that has the least bicycle traffic), and more recently, I’ve been working on my moves at the studio.
It’s the one time of the week where I can be there alone, so I feel less inhibited since no one is watching me.
Cherry taught me to record myself when I’m dancing, which is a common practice among the girls.
I like it because it gives me the chance to see what I look like up there and to perfect my movements so the shapes I create with my body look the way I want them to.
Saffron recently instructed me on how to invert, and that’s been a lot of fun.
It’s not too far off from gymnastics, really.
This morning, I choose to practice something called a “chopper inversion.” I set the pole to spin, and after stretching first, I begin with a few simple moves from the ground.
The pencil, where you lift yourself up, body straight and still, in perfect vertical alignment with the spinning pole, is great for conditioning but also for getting used to the motion.
The first time I ever did a move on spin pole, I became immediately nauseous, so I always remember to start with something simple to get accustomed to the movement.
To do a chopper, you first have to know how to invert on a static pole.
Essentially, you stand alongside the pole, with your inside hand holding the pole up high and your outside arm reaching across your body to hold the pole as well.
Then, you do a pole crunch, but with legs straight out and in a V shape.
Basically, you just swing your legs up over your head.
Once you get good at that, just pull up a little higher and you’ll be upside down in a true inversion.
On spin pole, this move looks awesome because your legs create the appearance of a helicopter.
I’m at the studio, working on the move with the stereo pumping out the newest Charlie Puth track, when the door opens, letting in a stream of bright sunlight.
“Oh, hey girl,” Arrow says.
I flip myself back down and land as gracefully as I can. “Hi, Arrow. What’s up? Early for you, no?”
She drops her purse on the table near the front that we use for catering. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here. Did you get a text from Cherry?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I haven’t checked my phone recently, though. Why?”
“She’s in the hospital. Appendicitis.”
“Oh, shit. That sucks. Sorry to hear it,” I say. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah. She’ll be fine I’m sure. Thought it was food poisoning, but when the pain just kept getting worse and worse, her boyfriend took her to the ER.”
“Thank goodness. Isn’t it, like, really bad if your appendix bursts?”
Arrow shrugs. “I guess. I’m no doctor.” She checks something on her phone, then swipes the screen and looks at me.
“Listen. Tonight’s party is a big one, and I need all hands on deck.
We’ve got 30 girls coming down from Boston.
The bride is some locally famous author chick, so it’s a little more of a high profile crowd. ”
“You want me to make extra shots?” I ask.
“No – that’s not the issue. I need to make sure all the poles are staffed.”
I say nothing, because I’m not quite sure what she’s getting at.
“I need you to dance tonight, Summer.”
What? I can’t be hearing her correctly. My jaw drops. “Me?”
She nods. “Please. Let’s not get all dramatic about it. You know the choreo. It’s simple. And then, for the in-between times, like when the guys are here, just dance on a pole. We can put the shots out on the table.”
“What about the keys?”
“Party bus,” Arrow explains. “No worries tonight.”
My heart thumps with Charlie Puth’s bassline. “You sure, Arrow? I don’t know if I’m ready.”
She looks at me sternly. “You’ll be fine, Summer. You can do this. You know the old saying Dance like no one’s watching ?”
“Yeah?”
“Just do that.”
“Maybe we can ask Jenna to come back?”
“No offense, I know she’s your friend, but Jenna’s about as sexy as a teddy bear in a tutu. Also, she can’t dance for shit.”
“Really?” This surprises me, given the fact that she’s the one who introduced me to this place.
“No cap. And, not for nothing, Cosmo is exit only. Once you’re gone, you can’t come back.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know that. “Seriously? ”
“Deadass.”
“Why not?” I wonder aloud.
“It’s just my policy.” She shrugs, tracing a sparkly purple fingernail along her ear to keep her hair from hanging in her face.
“Oh. Um. Okay,” I say. I can’t imagine Jenna doing anything to piss Arrow off (other than not wanting to pole dance for the rest of her natural life) but Arrow’s a bit of a strange bird, in my opinion, so I opt to just leave it alone.
Instead, I gather my things, turn off the music, and head out.
“Well, I was just about to get going. I’ve got some errands to run, but I’ll be back for tow lot later,” I tell Arrow.
“’Kay. And hey, don’t forget. No fishnets if you’re dancing.
Wear the lower heels so you don’t have to worry about falling.
And, since you’re new at this, I would recommend a bra and booty shorts – that way, all your business will stay tucked in.
Get the ones that are ruched down the crack – you know, with the pads?
That’ll give your ass more curve. I need you to give me as much skin as you possibly can.
None of this tank top bullshit. Nothing kills a vibe quicker than a pole dancer who’s dressed like it’s wintertime.
” She waves at my current ensemble, a boyfriend tank from Old Navy and a pair of Soffe shorts – which would only keep one warm in winter if one lived on the actual Equator .
"Got it," I reply, and escape to my car. I dial Cherry, who picks up on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey. It’s Summer. You okay?”
“Ugh,” she moans. “It’s been a rough night.”
“Arrow told me. I’m so sorry,” I offer. “Anything you need? Anything I can do?”
“Nah. Thanks, though. I have to stay in the hospital for one more day, but then I’m stuck home for two to three weeks until I get clearance from my doctor to come back to work.”
“What happened?”
“So I got home last night after the party, right? And I ate some leftover pizza. It had been sitting out for a while, so when my stomach started to hurt, I figured, ah, fuck. It was probably bad cheese. You’re not supposed to eat pizza if it’s been left out, right?”
“How long was it out for?” I ask.
“Mmm. I’m not sure. Maybe like a day or so?”
A day or so ?
“I just assumed it’s so chock full of preservatives that it would be fine.
But then my stomach started to turn. I’ll spare you the gory details.
Let’s just say, there was lots of cramping, and all on one side, and it just kept getting worse and worse.
So finally, I called Bobby and he came over.
When it wasn’t getting any better, even after I got sick, he convinced me to let him bring me to the emergency room. ”
“Good thing,” I say. “Your boyfriend’s got good instincts.”
“Yeah, I guess. They got it out before it burst, but the whole thing still sucks,” she adds. “Anyway, now I’ll never eat pizza again.”
“You feel better now, though?”
“Tons,” she says. “Although I have stitches now, and I’ll have a scar, which sucks.”
“I’m glad you’re okay, Cher.”
“Thanks. Sorry I’ll be missing work for a bit. I know Arrow’s freaking out about it.”
“Um, not going to lie, I’m right there with her.”
“Nah. You guys will be fine.”
“Everyone else, maybe. Not me.” I swallow. “Arrow has me dancing tonight.”
“That’s cool,” Cherry says. “You’ll do great.”
“I’m terrified,” I admit.
“Don’t be. Remember – the girls are all going to be wasted, for one thing. And none of them have ever poled before. So you’ll look like a rock star even if you’re only doing basic moves. Trust me.”
I take a breath, putting her on speaker and backing the Fiesta out of its parking spot. “I guess.”
“Seriously. You’re a great dancer – especially for someone who just learned. I wouldn’t feed you a line of bullshit. And, Arrow really likes you. She told me so herself.”
“Really?” This, I find hard to believe.
“Scout’s honor,” Cherry insists. “Oh! You know what used to help me get over the jitters?”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Edibles. I’ve got some in my locker. Feel free to help yourself. The code is 6-9-6-9.”
Classy, I think.
I’m the daughter of the chief of police.
I grew up on those tired old “this is your brain on drugs” commercials – and not from the television; my father used to just play them for me randomly on his phone as a supplement to whatever life lesson he was trying to offer.
Legal or not, I will not be indulging in random edibles from Cherry’s locker.
“Thanks,” I say, hoping to sound polite and not judgey.
“Yup. Don’t even give it a second thought.” She pauses. “I’ve got to go. One of the nurses just came in for something.”
“Feel better,” I say.
I go for a drive to Last Encounter Beach in Eastport in an effort to create space from Arrow and just breathe. I need to calm down.
The beach helps. It always does. Me and the briny salt air have our own special deal: when things get rough, or if I’m stressed out about something, I put my toes in the sand and look out at the tidal flats and remember that the world is way bigger than just my miniscule problems.
By the time I get back to the studio for tow lot, I’ve gone home to change into a more “appropriate” outfit (and no, Brady’s car was not there, not that I checked or anything) and I’ve put on sweats and a t-shirt because I’m not trying to go out in public wearing only a bra.
Arrow’s gone when I get back, leaving me to run tow lot pickups on my own, which is fine, since being busy is helping me get the butterflies in my stomach to calm the hell down.
I take a break between tow lot and preparing for the night to run up to Cumberland Farms for gas station PB&J, which sounds disgusting but is the best two-dollar meal-on-the-go this town has to offer.
When I return, Saffron’s there, and I lament my life to her.
“I’m just worried I’ll look ridiculous,” I explain.
“Listen Chica, you’re gorgeous. You could just stand there and it would be fine. But –” she lowers her voice, “ Do you have any idea what kind of entertainment this crew is bringing in tonight?”
I shake my head.
“Oh my God, I’m so excited. The bride is a huge Red Sox fan, so the Skeeve is sending over a whole baseball team of strippers!”
“What? Won’t it get, like, crowded in here? And what exactly is a Skeeve ?”
“Oh.” Saffron giggles. “Steve the Skeeve. He’s like Cape Cod’s resident pimp.”
I bust out laughing. “There are no pimps on Cape Cod! This is the world’s most Norman Rockwell place to live. I love how you’re making it sound like Vegas.”
“Well, he’s definitely not a guy you’d find in a Rockwell painting, that’s for sure.”
“What exactly does he do?” I wonder aloud.
“He’s the procurer. Arrow pays him a flat rate per guy per night. It’s part of the bill for the ladies who come here. And his job is to find a dancer who will match what the girls want: so, like, tonight, the bride-to-be wants a baseball team, and it’s up to the Skeeve to deliver that.”
“That sounds… about right for someone who goes by the name Skeeve ,” I surmise. “Do you think it’s legal?”
Saffron shrugs. “No clue.”
Well. This is a bit much for me to process at the present moment. I do think that Brady might want to look into this if he’s working for some suspect operation.
Perhaps I should give him a heads up.
Yes, I decide. And not because it gives me a reason to knock on his door. I’ll do it because it’s the right thing to do. The neighborly thing.
After all, I am nothing if not a gracious neighbor.
But not right now. Right now, I need to stretch. Nothing worse than pulling a muscle on the pole , I think.
I shake my head. Wow. When did my headspace make such a huge departure from thoughts of nursery rhymes and basic language arts?
Who even am I right now?