Page 30 of Red Snow
SHE HAS HERglittery ass all over my favorite flannel shirt. It’s a nice ass, but come on.
I’ve had too much to drink, but I don’t care. I went back home last night, even though I’d had a long day at work. I brushed off every desire I had and I walked out, so there’s no way I’m doing that again tonight.
Here I am at Alaskan Bush Company, watching a stripper who calls herself Bedazzle, wiggle her ass up and down right on my favorite flannel. She has a blue G-string that’s pretty sexy, but it’s her hair that I really like. It’s black and cut into a bob, which I just can’t take my eyes off of. It reminds me so much of her, and when I heard her name and saw that bob haircut strut onto the stage, it didn’t even matter what kind of stripper dance she did. All I cared about was making sure she brought her glittery butt over to my booth. I had to take five shots of Jose Cuervo to build up my nerve to talk to her, but once that liquid courage kicked in, I was ready to go. I flashed Bedazzle a wad of cash, which was actually a stack of ones with a fifty on the outside, and she came right over. She even left the guy she was entertaining at the bar so she could come keep me company, which was great because I was starting to feel awkward in this booth all by myself.
While Bedazzle wiggles her butt in my face as she rubs her tits, I close my eyes and try to steady myself. Maybe five shots was one too many. No matter, I feel better about being out tonight than I did yesterday, so I’d say it’s worth it.
I open my eyes and look at Bedazzle’s hair again. From the back, it looks just like Mother’s, and it helps that she smells really good, too. It’s like a sweet peach smell, or something like that. Who cares? She’s sexy as fuck. I slide a dollar into her panties, making sure to rub her ass a little before I take my hand off of her.
“Thank you, baby,” she says in a husky voice. She sounds like a smoker, and even that reminds me of Mother. “You having a good time?”
“Oh yeah,” I reply. I can’t see Bedazzle’s face since she’s looking the other direction, so all see is the hair that reminds me so much of my dead mother. It’s almost identical, and now that the Jose Cuervo is firing on all cylinders in my belly, I’m not sure how I feel about it anymore. “You sure are sexy, Bedazzle,” I say, trying to keep my mind straight.
“Thank you, baby. So are you,” she replies, leaning back and looking over at me. She reaches up and rubs her tiny hand on my smooth face. She makes eye contact with me and smiles. I know she’s a stripper, but that smile is pretty convincing. For a moment, I think she actually wants me. Does she?
“You’re really pretty,” I tell her, trying to test the waters.
“Thank you. I’ve got to be honest with you, you’re the best looking guy I’ve danced for all night.”
“I’m sure you say that to all the guys who pay you.”
“I don’t, I swear,” she says with that smile. “You’re actually really hot. You look like a heartbreaker for sure. Where’s your girlfriend?”
“I don’t have one,” I tell her as I rub the pale, glistening skin on her shoulder. I do it as inconspicuously as possible so I don’t have to worry about a bouncer running over and ruining my lap dance.
“What? No way! A guy who looks like you shouldn’t be single. I don’t believe it. You just have to have someone out there who’s wishing they could be your girl.”
“Well, I did have someone who loved me like that.” I don’t know why I say it, but the words have already come out. I think it’s the alcohol, maybe, but out of absolutely nowhere, I feel sad about Mother. The funeral was so recently and I’ve already started going back to work, and every night I have to sleep in the trailer she used to own—the one we spent so many nights in together. I miss her voice. I miss her hair.
I fucking miss you, Mother.
And I fucking hate it so much.
“Aww, what’s the matter, baby?” Bedazzle says. She turns around and sits on my lap so she can see my face. “Did someone break your heart?”
“Yeah, she did, actually.”
“That’s too bad. Trust me, baby, it’s their loss, because you’re gorgeous. How old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
“You’re still young enough to find someone and be happy. Don’t look so sad. How about another dance, Big Boy.”
My head snaps up. “What’d you just call me?”
“What? I just wanted to know if you wanted another dance.”
“Yeah, but what did you call me?”
“Umm, I called you Big Boy.” I don’t know if I look mad or sad, but Bedazzle suddenly looks uncomfortable. I try to straighten out whatever face I’m making, because I don’t want her to leave.
“Oh, that’s cool,” I say, pushing back my feelings about the name my mother used to call me during our special moments together. The moments I’m so ashamed of. “Relax, Bedazzle. Okay, can I ask you something? What’s your real name?”
She still looks uncomfortable, and I can tell she’s really thinking of not telling me, and I half-expect her not to, but she actually spits it out, and it rocks me to my toes.
“I don’t usually tell customers this, but since you’re so cute, I’ll tell you,” she says. “It’s Britney.” I gasp out loud, and the uneasy look on her face comes back. “Umm, are you okay?” she asks.
I feel overwhelmed, and I try so hard, but everything I’m feeling mixes with the damn Jose Cuervo, and I can’t hold back the oncoming emotions. I squint my eyes to try to block them, but the tears win the battle and start rolling down my cheeks. Through the tears, I try to reassure her I’m fine.
