A Journey of Words

The Whaler’s DuesBrian Paone “She breaks my heart every time I see her.” Willie raised his unshaven chin to point across the restaurant. Big Riff looked in the direction indicated. “Yeah, and your wallet.” “I’ve probably paid for her college fund three times over,” Willie replied, staring at his favorite stripper. “I’m gonna talk to her.” “Really?” “I don’t think there are rules about talking to dancers when they’re off-duty. What do I have to lose?” Willie maneuvered his way around the scattered tables and lunch patrons. She noticed him approach and seductively wrapped her brown hair around her neck where it rested on one shoulder. Willie swallowed hard and almost coughed from nervousness. “Hey there, Willie,” she said and smiled. He tried his best to hide his disappointment when he noticed her stealthily slide a wedding ring off her finger and into her coat pocket. “It’s nice to see you outside of work,” Willie said. “You mean, with my clothes on?” She chuckled. “No, that’s not what I meant.” Willie could feel blood rushing to his cheeks. “Aww, you’re so adorable when you’re embarrassed.” She grabbed the hem of her red dress with her left hand. Willie stopped breathing as she slowly raised the fabric past her knee and stopped, revealing just enough thigh to get his heart racing. “I like messing with ya,” she said as she let go of the dress, and it returned to a more modest position. “Did you have something to ask me, or were you just coming over to keep me company?” Willie had to think fast. The wedding ring had distracted him and knocked him off his game. Did he really think he would’ve had a chance with her anyway, even if she wasn’t married? Or even not a stripper, for that matter? “Since we’re outside your…place of employment, could you tell me your name?” “Kelpie.” She laughed. “I was hoping for your real name, not your stage name,” he said disappointed, realizing she wasn’t going to drop the facade, even outside the walls of the club. “I can’t.” She shook her head. “You understand, right, babe?” “Unfortunately I do.” “Do you want to sit down?” “Nah. I’m here with Riff.” Kelpie spotted Big Riff watching them and gave him an enthusiastic wave. He raised his hand slightly off the table in a haphazard motion. “It was nice to see you, Willie.” She stabbed the filet of sole on her plate. “Are you coming to the club anytime soon? I miss you.” Willie knew she was toying with him; this was all part of the act to keep a loyal customer. He wasn’t about to get charmed by the pizzazz of a stripper. “I’ll come by soon.” Kelpie swallowed the mouthful of fish and washed it down with sparkling wine. Willie lifted the bottle and inspected the label, trying to impress her by pretending he was some wine connoisseur. He was sure she could see right through his antics. “It’s a cheap five-dollar bottle,” Kelpie said. Feeling defeated, Willie excused himself and returned to his table. “She’s married, dude.” “What?” Big Riff sounded surprised. “She didn’t exactly say it, but I saw her remove a wedding ring from her finger.” “She’s gotta keep the illusion, even outside the club, ya know? She’s gotta keep those dollars flowing.” “Oh, shut up. Stop teasing me.” Kelpie placed her napkin in the center of her empty plate—small flakes of sole were stuck to the tines of her fork. She stood and winked at Willie as she left the restaurant. Big Riff snapped his fingers loudly in front of Willie’s eyes, breaking his stare. “Come back to reality,” Big Riff said. “She knows how to drive a guy right back—” “You, my friend, are pathetic,” Big Riff interrupted. “And I need to get going. I’m working the late shift.” “What time are you getting off?” “Two.” “See you at Harry’s?” “Yeah. Don’t expect me before three though.” “I’ll have your first drink waiting.” “Sounds like a plan.” Big Riff threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table and left his best friend alone to finish his lunch. The rain fell as if the sky was enraged. Large drops pounded the neon sign over the entrance, making angry hissing noises. Big Riff entered Harry’s Bar—physically slicing through the cigarette smoke that hung in the air—and looked at his watch. Only a couple of hours until sunrise. Damn. The music was thumping. The two girls onstage gyrated in unison like hungry jungle cats, seductively flipping their hair as they tried to score another dollar bill by making ridiculous-looking faces at the gentlemen clientele. Big Riff found Willie at a table with only one seat. He pulled up an empty chair and slapped his best friend on the shoulder. “Riff, my man, you’ve already missed half the girls.” “Oh? I thought you said you’d have a drink waiting for me.” Big Riff signaled the bartender. “Kelpie’s already been up three times.” Big Riff sighed. He had really hoped she wouldn’t be working tonight so Willie would stop obsessing so much. Big Riff reminisced about the first time he had watched her dance; he hadn’t believed in love at first sight until that night. The way she moved—so much expression and something else…something melancholy under those fake smiles and winks for money. Big Riff just knew something fragile and sanctified was hidden deep inside her. It pained him whenever he was forced to face the realization he’d never be anything more to Kelpie than an ATM that only dispenses one-dollar bills. Hearing Willie talk incessantly about her made Big Riff want to toss a multitude of alcoholic beverages down his throat and sneer at the other drunks, dressed in their obnoxious plaid shirts, while they gawked at Kelpie like a piece of meat. “Riff?” “Sorry, Harry. Lost on my own island again.” “Here’s your gin,” the owner-s***h-bartender said and placed a napkin printed with Harry’s logo underneath the glass. Harry had barely reached the bar when Big Riff called his name. Harry looked back at the table and noticed the glass was empty. Big Riff shook off the burn of the alcohol by clenching all his facial muscles. “Another one?” Harry asked. “Tonight, my friend, keep ’em coming.” Before Harry could return with a second gin, the stage door opened, and Kelpie sashayed toward the pole. The drunks up front cheered, their wallets now magically in plain view, eager to toss Kelpie their hard-earned money for a few seconds of attention. “She knows how to take control of a room, doesn’t she?” Willie yelled, as the music’s volume suddenly increased. Before Big Riff could think of a reply, Harry returned. Big Riff nodded in thanks and swallowed half the gin in one gulp. The liquid burned his lips; exactly how he liked. He glanced at Kelpie and had a hard time meeting her gaze without blushing, followed by the uncontrollable need to look anywhere else. Staring into his drink, he knew Kelpie must’ve removed her skimpy bra by the whoops and hollers from the men up front. Against his better judgment, Big Riff stole a peek and saw the town s**t-bag rubbing her bra over his face, like he’d just won the lottery. “Waste of gravity,” Big Riff muttered. “What’s that, hotshot?” someone said, firmly grabbing Big Riff ’s shoulders and shaking him with a little too much gusto. Big Riff rolled his eyes. “You lost, Gerald?” “Nah, man. You sober?” “Too sober to be around you.” “Hey, how’d that singing gig pan out?” Gerald asked. “Who told you?” Big Riff turned to face the man. “Puh-lease. This’s a small town, Riffy. Everybody knows everybody else’s bidness.” “Whatever.” Big Riff waved off Gerald with his hand and turned toward his half-drank gin. Being anywhere else would be okay right now, as long as it wasn’t watching Kelpie degrade herself to the likes of these idiots. The next song started, and Kelpie responded by leaning backward, like a gymnast, gripping the pole with only one hand. “You tell him?” Big Riff yelled at Willie. “Tell him what?” “Did you tell Gerald that I auditioned for Strange Avenues?” “I wouldn’t tell that piece of s**t anything about you.” “Didn’t you hear him ask me?” “Nah. I tune everything out when Kelpie’s on stage,” Willie said without breaking his stare on her legs wrapped around the pole. Big Riff pursed his lips and finished his drink in one commanding gulp. “Harry! Another one for Riff,” Willie yelled toward the bar. “Oh, so you heard me put down an empty glass, but you didn’t hear Gerald’s voice.” “Man, you’re a buzz-kill tonight. Last time I invite you any—” Willie halted abruptly when Kelpie grabbed a chair and stepped from it to their tabletop. She gently placed the tip of her red stiletto on Willie’s chest and slowly dragged her shoe toward his neck. Big Riff could smell her intoxicating perfume blanket the atmosphere around the table. He willed every muscle to move—maybe head toward the bathroom—but he was frozen. Harry leaned over Big Riff ’s shoulder with his third gin and placed the glass on the disintegrating napkin. The gaggle of drunks up front turned to watch as Kelpie bent her knee and leaned closer into Willie, her shoe resting just below his chin. He trapped her thigh with both hands, and Big Riff could only imagine how smooth and flawless her skin must feel. Then Willie placed his lips on her delicious-looking knee, and Kelpie threw her head backward and giggled. Without warning, Kelpie pulled away and jumped off the table. All gazes followed her, as she strutted behind the bar to the beat of the song and emerged with a bottle of tonic water. Big Riff wasn’t aware she’d returned to his table until he smelled her perfume behind him. She leaned around his body, making sure every curve of her torso scraped along the skin of his arm. Big Riff thought he might pass out right here. Kelpie unscrewed the cap of the tonic water and poured the liquid into his gin until the mixture reached the top of the glass. “There ya go, sweetie. You need to pace yourself,” Kelpie said loud enough for everyone to hear. The drunks up front roared with laughter, covering their mouths with their hands as if they’d just heard the best-worst insult ever. Big Riff even saw two of them high-five each other. “What do you care how much I drink?” Big Riff couldn’t even look at her face. He kept his gaze glued to her arm. Kelpie’s lips brushed his earlobe as she whispered, “I care more than you know.” Then she yelled so everyone could hear. “I don’t care how much you drink! You’ve never thrown a single dollar my way!” The drunks up front began to boo loudly. “But this one over here,” Kelpie continued, as she sat on Willie’s lap and hovered her lips just above his, “has probably paid me enough to retire.” For the first time, watching her tease Willie had a different effect, since Big Riff knew she was married. Kelpie, or whatever might be her real name, had a husband at home while she’s dancing naked and letting men grope her for dollar bills. What if her husband was…here? What if he approved? Worse yet, what if watching aroused him? That wasn’t the kind of husband Kelpie needed, Big Riff thought. He knew what she needed, a man like him. Big Riff pushed his chair backward and headed for the bar. He didn’t turn around to see if Kelpie or Willie had noticed that he had stormed away from their shenanigans. “Harry, just a beer, please.” “You sure you don’t want something stronger? You look a little frazzled.” “Harry. Just…don’t.” “Sure thing, boss.” Harry popped the cap of a Yuengling and placed it on the bar. I gotta get a grip, Big Riff thought. No, I gotta get out of here. When Big Riff turned toward his table, he noticed Kelpie was gone and Willie was alone nursing his drink. Big Riff reluctantly returned to his seat. “How old do you think she is?” Willie asked. “I dunno, man. Can we talk about something else?” “God, she could be seventeen. She certainly looks it.” “I doubt she would be married at that age, let alone working here, in this part of town.” The house lights suddenly annulled the soft glow of the stage’s mood lighting. “Looks like the girls are done for the night,” Willie commented.