5 Tutti Frutti (4 page)

“Ten bucks,” the guy at t
he door said. Once he checked my I.D. and I paid, he slapped a rubber stamp across the back of my hand in the shape of a set of purple handcuffs.

“Does that come off?” I asked.

“Yeah, usually takes just a couple of days to a week,” he said then stared at the leather-clad couple behind me, and said “Ten bucks, each.”

I wandered toward the bar. It ran along the length of one wall and then made a half hearted
L shape at the far end. That was where we saw the D’Angelo brothers last night, but as I glanced around I couldn’t see them anywhere. Mercifully there wasn’t any music playing. One could only hope the speakers had all blown out.

The fire base looked crowded with a group
of sort of Goth-looking couples, or was that just the bad lighting in the place? I could just make out the spanking stage, although it wasn’t illuminated. If you didn’t know it was there you could miss the thing completely.

I’d been
waving a twenty dollar bill back and forth for ten minutes in an attempt to get the attention of a bartender. None of them seemed interested in me. Not that I was all that eager for another warm, flat beer.

“Get
you something, stud?” a woman in latex stopped alongside me and asked. I recognized her as our first waitress and the chief spanker from the night before.

“Actually, I’m just ordering a beer.”

“Did you place your order?”

“No, I’ve been
trying to get someone’s attention and I…”

“Well, you got mine. You want a beer
, or do you want to wait some more?”

She had sort of frosted hair, brown eyes
, high cheekbones and that massive cleavage now stuffed with a wad of currency. She seemed heavier than the sort of woman I was attracted to, and the Cat Woman outfit accentuating her curves and love handles did nothing to help. She was clearly older than me. Still, there was something there that was extremely intriguing plus she’d offered to get me a beer.

“You got
Summit EPA, a cold one?” I added just in case.

“Oh
God, now you want the thing cold? You’re a pain in the ass.”

“Gee, that’s what everybody
says and you don’t even know me.” I moved my hip to the side like Heidi had done the night before so she could spank me.

“Not bad,” she said
in a way that suggested I needed practice. Then she gave me the requisite courtesy spank. “I’ll be right back.”

I continued to look around the place and came up with th
e distinct impression I was the only normal sort of person there, which was a frightening thought since I’m not that normal.

“Here you go
, sweetheart.” She was back with my beer setting it down on the bar in front of me. The glass was frosted, the creamy head looked perfect. I took a sip. “Mmm-mmm, great. Man, the beer I had in here last night was luke-warm and flat.”

“That the
beer or the bartender?”

“No the beer,” I said before I caught the joke.

“Candi Slaughter,” she said. She extended her hand and didn’t blink.

“
Dev Haskell,” I replied.

She looked into my eyes, smiled
, and held on to my hand for a moment or two longer than necessary. I didn’t mind.

“Enjoy your beer, Sunshine. Give me a yell if you need anything.”

“You want to get paid?” I asked.

“This one’s on me. W
hat’d you say your name was, Dan?”

“Dev, kind of like
Devil.”

“One can only hope. Just give me the high sign you need anything else, Dev.”

I sipped, watched, looked around, and learned absolutely nothing. I didn’t see anything or anyone that might suggest gambling, betting or even so much as a game of solitaire. I didn’t see the D’Angelo brothers either.

If
I thought the place had been busy last night it was jammed packed tonight. At nine o’clock on the dot I was disappointed to learn the speaker system hadn’t been blown out. Thumping base music vibrated and sent shock waves through my body. Occasionally, there was some sort of scream coming across the sound system, which I could only guess was a paying customer who simply couldn’t stand the place anymore.

“Read
y for another, Dev?” Candi had come around behind me brushing up against my back. She had to almost yell in my ear to be heard. Once she finished her question she remained in place, pressing her breasts against me. I decided to give her thirty minutes to knock it off.

I had about an inch left
at the bottom of my glass. I checked my watch and figured I could probably stay for just one more. Who knew? Maybe the D’Angelo brothers would show.

“Yeah, I guess maybe
just one more.”

She was back in
a minute or two with my beer. Another frosted mug, perfect head. She centered the pint glass on a coaster and pushed it my way.

“Thanks
, Candi, here,” I said handing her a twenty.

“That’
s okay, my treat.”

“Thanks, but you’ve been grea
t, I insist and keep the change,” I said. Besides, what did I care? It was going on my expense report to Louie.

“Oh thanks, you
’re so sweet,” she said then stuffed the bill deep down in her cleavage with a practiced tuck.

“Wow, from pain in the ass to sweet in one beer
. That beats my old record.”

“You
’re still a pain in the ass, but a sweet pain in the ass,” she smiled then patted me on my thigh before walking off.

I never did see Tommy or Gino D’Angelo
. Before I knew it, the lights flicked on and the bouncers were shuffling everyone out the door. Gazing around at the inebriated crowd and the tawdry decoration I suddenly understood why they kept the place dark. I looked at my watch. It was almost two.

“I’m sorry
, sir, but it’s time to leave.”

“Yeah okay, I’ll just finish my beer and…”

“Actually, sir, we need you to leave now. It’s the law you know.”

He wasn’t huge
, but he was bigger than me. My eyes sort of rested at his chin. There was a zigzag kind of scar running across his check bone almost back to where his hairline might be if his head wasn’t shaved. The curves along the bridge of his nose suggested he may not be the discussion and contemplation type. Sill, I had a good half-pint remaining in my glass.

“Okay, I’ll finish up in just a minute and…”

“Now,” he exclaimed loudly, then attempted to herd me in the general direction of the door. Someone else came up behind him. It may have been Biker, but I wasn’t sure.

“Problem
, Bruno?”

“No
, he’s just leaving. No problem right, pal?”

I was about to make it
a problem. I know, stupid. There were two of them, double dumb.

“It
s okay, guys, he’s here with me. I got him.” It was Candi suddenly alongside me. She linked her arm around mine and moved me back in the general direction of my beer.

“You sure,
Candi?”

“Yeah, very. Dev and I go way back. Go flush out the rest of this place so we can talk in private. Okay?”

They nodded, gave me a quick second appraisal, and moved on to some poor slob three stools down wearing a thinning Mohawk.

“Tha
nks, you didn’t have to do that. I was about to…”

“You looked like you
were about to try and punch Bruno. Bad idea, given your condition right now and his black belt. That other idiot, Curtis, just likes to hurt people. You’d find yourself sitting in the ER until about noon tomorrow.”

“Actually
, I can handle myself pretty well.” I took a sip of my beer then went to rest my elbow on the bar. I missed and lurched for half a beat.

“God, tell me
that wasn’t faked you goofball.”

“It wasn’t faked
Candi, okay. Thanks, I appreciate your help.”

“If I ask you nice you got time for breakfast
?”

I nodded.

“Come on, I better drive,” she said.

Chapter Eight

Candi
lived in a
two-and-a-half story stucco house, sort of beige with brown trim and a peaked roof near St. Thomas University, I think. I wasn’t completely sure because I sort of dozed off during the short drive, but I could tell we were still in St. Paul. The place just has a feel to it and if you’re a local you seem to know it, even if you’d been asleep in the passenger seat.

“Wakey, wakey,”
Candi called as she pulled into her driveway and parked. I followed her up to the heavy oak front door sporting a small leaded window. A yellow porch light illuminated the front stoop. We stepped into an oak-floored entry way. Directly in front of us was a fairly substantial carpeted staircase leading to a darkened second floor. To the left was a long living room with a fireplace centered on the wall and off to the right a dining room with a polished wooden table and silver candle sticks. Cabinets with glass doors were built-in at forty-five degree angles in the far corners of the room.

“Come on into the kitchen,” she said
, walking through the dining room. She slid her purse across the dining room table then pushed through a swinging door that led into her kitchen. The lights came on automatically with the motion of the door. She pointed toward a stool and said, “Grab a seat.” Then she moved to the range and began clanging pans.

It seemed like in no time
we were seated at her granite-topped kitchen counter. She’d cooked us omelets, bacon, toast, decaf coffee, and I grew more sober than not. I finished slathering about a half inch of orange marmalade on my final slice of toast and then took a bite.

“So that’s pretty much it. I got la
id off as a third grade teacher. With the district’s seniority policy I’d be about one hundred before I ever got rehired. It may sound crazy, but I make about four times as much hustling drinks and stuffing cash between my boobs. Besides, all my tips are tax free.”

“I sort of understand, but the Tutti Frutti Club? I mean why there of all places? I don’t know, maybe I’m just so far out of the demographic that I don’t get it.”

“Well
, like I said, the money. I make more in tips than any teachers I know. You saw how crowded it gets, right?”

“
Actually, I’ve only been there twice; last night and tonight.” I glanced at my watch it was really late.

“Well, there you go
. You saw how busy it was on Thursday and Friday. Saturday is even busier. There’ll be a line to get in the place from about nine o’clock on. We always end up turning people away.”

“Lot
s of heavy tippers?”

“You’d be surprised. I know the crowd looks a little squirrely…”

“Squirrely? They’re downright strange. And who wants to pay to watch some fat guy getting spanked?”

“Fat guy?”

“Yeah, Thursday night there was this fat guy up there. Wasn’t that you on the delivery end? Who wants to watch that? He’s got a nice job by the way.”

“Job? Dev
, those aren’t employees, those are customers who buy that option. They have to pay for it.”

“What?”

“Oh yeah, they pay for the privilege.”

“Privilege
? You mean they pay to get spanked by someone with a riding crop while a barroom full of drunken folks watch and scream?”

“Oh yeah, sure
, it runs about one fifty during the week, two twenty-five Fridays and Saturdays. Of course, they get to choose who spanks them.”

“You
’re kidding me?”

“Nope, staff
gets half, fifty percent of the one fifty, so seventy-five bucks goes to the house and we get seventy-five to spank ‘em.”

“They pay for it, the privilege?
”

“Yeah, well
, and the bragging rights of course.”

“I kn
ew I was sort of out of the demographic, but I had no idea.”

“Se
e, you learn something every day,” she smiled then slid off her stool and began clearing dishes.

“Oh here
, let me help,” I said.

“No, you just sit there
. This’ll only take me a minute.”

“Well
, I suppose I should call a cab, get back to…”

“Are you kidding?
I saved you from getting your fat head kicked in by Bruno. I just cooked you breakfast, and you think you’re going to call a cab? You’ve got some work to do, Mister.”

Her bedroom was at the top of the stai
rs; first room to the right. It housed a large queen-sized four poster with an attached bathroom advertised by subtle, dim lighting.

“I’ve got a Jacuzzi in there.
I like to grab one after being on my feet all night. Join me?” she asked.