Pink Butterfly (15 page)

A long pause while Jackson thought of a reply. “I am who I am, that’s all I can say about that.”

“Well then I am who I am,” Melvin replied.

“No, you’re some sort of mutant hybrid that needs an explanation.”

“What do you intend to do? Cut me open and study me like a lab experiment?”

“You are a lab experiment,” Jackson replied. “Look around you.”

Melvin took a look around and all the people in the room were gone. Still the same courtroom, just no people.

“Did I die on the operating room table? Am I dead?” Melvin asked.

“No, you are as alive now as you have ever been. You’re perceptions of your surrounding have changed, that’s all,” Jackson replied.

“I’m drugged up? Is that it? Did you slip me drugs while I was sitting at the table?”

“You are not drugged, trust me,” Jackson said setting down the gavel.

“I want the people back,” Melvin said firmly. “I don’t like what you’re doing here. I don’t trust you at all.”

“I could bring them back, but why? What difference would that make?”

“It would make me less nervous, that’s for sure.”

“And more distracted as well. I can talk to you much better one on one. We don’t need an audience.”

Melvin took a deep breath and looked around the courtroom again. It was eerily quiet and the empty seats made him feel empty. “Fine, what do you want from me?”

“I want you alive until we can determine what you are,” Jackson replied.

“Fine, I can live with that,” Melvin replied. “Why all the cloak and dagger stuff?”

“It’s only cloak and dagger in your mind Melvin. For all you know, you’re still strapped into the electric chair and this is all a dream before you die.”

“That’s the only thing that does make sense.” Melvin replied nodding his head. “Everything I know is an electrified induced nightmare. So what does that have to do with my heart?”

“Remember what you just said? If this is all a dream created by the shocks in your brain, the whole heart issue is moot. It never happened. This trial never happened. You are in the death throes of the sparks between neurons being torn and burned apart by an industrial sized breaker box.”

Melvin leaned back on the rail that surrounded the lawyers’ tables. All the doors and windows in the room were now solid white and he felt like the walls were closing in on him. He looked at the palms of his hands and wondered if they too would soon turn white and disappear. “So now what?” Melvin asked.

“At this point I would suggest closing your eyes and going with it,” Jackson replied. “I think your options are nil at this point.”

“Well, if this is a result of me being electrocuted I won’t have to wait much longer till it’s over. At least I feel no pain.”

“If in fact that’s what’s happening,” Jackson replied.

“Why all the cryptic shit?” Melvin snapped back. “Am I dying or not!?”

Jackson leaned back in the judge’s chair and took a long drag off the cigar. “If you’re dying, then I’m a burning neuron in your brain waiting to fizzle out. If not, wait a while and see what happens. You didn’t have any pressing engagements anyway, unless sitting in a holding cell is what you do for fun.”

Melvin woke to the sound of knocking on the door. He sat up and felt a burning sensation running down his chest that stung like bee stings. In the dim light from the radio, he could see a long incision cut from the top of his sternum to the bottom held together by surgical staples. He jumped out of bed, ran to the light switch and turned on the lights revealing to his horror, some sort of post-surgical work that he was unaware he had done. Then the sound of knocking came again from the door and Melvin had to refocus his attention. He gathered his thoughts and opened the door to the familiar face of Vera, the old stripper who gave him the room the previous night.

“Time to get up honey,” Vera said with a lit cigarette dangling from her wrinkled lips.

Stunned and in a fog, Melvin looked at Vera and had to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “I know you I think.” Melvin said aloud with a curious look on his face.

“Know me? We met last night, remember? You shot my bouncer and ambassador in some sort of mad fury and then asked for asylum.”

It didn’t take long for Melvin to remember what she was talking about. “It’s coming back to me now,” he said scratching his head.

“I called the Secretary of State of Labiastan and she told me that your asylum request is under consideration, but in the meantime, you will have to fill in as bouncer until we get someone sent for a replacement and that could be months.” Vera stated.

“Before we go any further,” Melvin said scratching his itchy incision. “What happened to me?”

Vera looked at Melvin’s chest and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, you must have come in with it last night. Maybe you were on pain meds and that’s why you freaked out and shot all my male staff.”

Melvin knew there was something special about his heart, he couldn’t put his finger on it but now he had a wound to contend with and a new job that he didn’t know how to do. “What does the bouncer do? Just kick out loud mouths and drunks?”

“We don’t allow alcohol in all nude bars so that’s not a problem, sometimes they come in drunk but that’s not our problem unless they start getting their paws on the girls and that’s when you come in. We have a zero tolerance policy for touching the talent here and if you spot it or one of the girls tells you they were touched, you kick out the offender.”

“I’ve never been in a fight in my life, I wouldn’t know the first thing about kicking someone out. Plus, in my condition, I don’t think I should be fighting anyone. Look at me.”

“Nine times out of ten all you have to do is act like an asshole and they leave on their own. They know what they did and know the rules. If it came to push and shove, you get me and I’ll push them out the door,” Vera replied.

“Is that all I have to do? I mean, do I take money at the door?”

“We have staff at the front, remember? You shot him. I have a girl working the cash office. There is one other job you have to do, but you do it before show time so you can be at your station while the girls are dancing.”

“Scrubbing toilets?” Melvin asked in disgust.

“No, bikini waxer. No girl goes on stage without a clean beaver. We allow a tiny puff of pubes at the top, but otherwise it’s bald. It’s your job to inspect and if needed, wax any pussy needing a waxing.”

“I’ve never waxed anything but my car before,” Melvin stated. “I’m willing to learn, but don’t expect me to do it tonight.”

“It’s not that hard, you slop on the wax, wait a few minutes to dry and rip off the hair with a good firm tug. If the girls scream like hell, you did it right.”

“What time do I do that?” Melvin asked rubbing his staples.

“You need to be in the dressing room in an hour, the waxing kit is in the cupboard below the sink and inspection starts according to the show list by the door. First girl up gets the first inspection. If there is an unusual amount of pubic hair, you might have to switch some girls around because it can get nasty red down there after a good waxing. Most of the girls are clean and only need waxing every few weeks, but sometimes you get one that grows hair like and ape and needs it done every other day. Including their mustache and beard.”

“To get to the dressing room, take the stairs at the end of the hall. It leads right to the locker room. From there you can get to the bar and your post is next to the bar. We encourage our bouncers to be mobile and walk around quite a bit so the guys get used to seeing you. Don’t be an asshole, they pay your paycheck but at the same time don’t let them touch the girls. Got it?” Vera asked sternly.

“Got it,” Melvin replied. “I need to get dressed,” he added and shut the door. He looked at the same dirty clothes that he had on from the night before and wondered if there was a washing machine anywhere close by. Then a knock on the door. Melvin opened the door and standing in the hall with a set of men’s clothes was Raven, one of the dancers he had met the night before.

“These are for you, your work clothes,” Raven said with a smile.

“Thanks,” Melvin replied. “Are you working tonight?”

“I work every night,” she replied with a school girl giggle.

“Great, I might need some help later. This is my first night.”

“You’ll do fine, most nights the bouncer falls asleep because he’s so bored.”

“How can a guy get bored with naked women walking around all the time?”

“After a while it gets old I suppose. Like everything else. Too much of a good thing can get dull.”

“I suppose,” Melvin said to his dismay. “I eat all the time and never get bored with that.”

“Do you eat the same thing all the time?”

“Pretty much, chili dogs and turkey subs,” Melvin replied.

“And you don’t get bored with that?”

“When I’m hungry, I’m hungry so no, I don’t get bored with that. And I used to work with some very hot women back in my day and I never got bored watching them bend over at the water cooler to pick up a cup. Any man that gets bored with a naked woman isn’t a man.”

Later that evening Melvin sat at the bar trying not to doze off keeping an eye out for any “bad behavior” from the male customers. He was surprised at how bored he actually was when his focus was on the men instead of the women. Then he noticed a guy who was acting a bit odd.

The next song started and a new girl climbed up the steps to the elevated stage and proceeded to wash off the brass colored pole with some Clorox handy wipes. This girl was dark haired, very pretty and had the ass of a Goddess. Once the pole was cleaned off, the girl took off her top and began to dance with her extra high-high heels. This guy was instantly infatuated with the girl and watched her until the first song was done. He pulled out his wallet and grabbed a five dollar bill and held tight to it waiting for the girl to take off her G-string. Melvin didn’t know what he saw in this guy, but he kept an eye on him anyway.

The next song started and there were tips being tossed at the dancer’s feet from all directions. Seems this girl was very popular among the regulars and now this customer was getting pissed that she might spend all of her time doing private dances on the other side of the stage. He quickly put the five dollar bill back into his wallet and pulled out his twenty and waited for the girl to look in his direction. When she turned towards him, he waved the twenty and made sure she got a good look at it and dropped it on the stage in front of her. She was attracted like an ant to honey.

The dancer got down on all fours and scooped up the twenty dollar bill and placed it in the customers lap and signaled for him to watch her. She bent over, placed her head between his legs on the seat of his chair, and rolled over onto him letting her legs flop over his shoulders. In an instant, Melvin grabbed the man from behind and yelled, “You’re out of here!” and the girl climbed back onto the stage keeping the money in her hand.

“What the fuck?” the customer asked standing up. “I didn’t do anything!”

“You put your face between her legs, that’s against the rules! “Melvin yelled back.

“She flopped onto me!” the man yelled. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Get the fuck out!” the Melvin yelled pointing down the hall towards the entrance to the club.

The customer stood there dumbfounded looking around for someone to stick up for him. Nobody did, not even the dancer who was now shoving her tits in another man’s face. “I’ve been here five minutes, I want my money back then!” he shouted.

“No, get the fuck out or I’ll call the cops!” the Melvin yelled back.

Knowing he had no recourse, the now dejected customer let his shoulders slump and stepped away from the stage and walked back down the long hallway to the entryway where he paid his twenty dollar entrance fee. “I want my fucking money back,” the customer said, this time more calmly.

“Shoving your face in the dancer’s pussy is a crime. I should hold you here and call the cops. Be glad I’m just kicking you out.” the Melvin said. The girl behind the glass nodded in agreement and the customer grit his teeth and shoved the door open to the outside and walked out pissed as hell.

It was then Melvin got this overwhelming sense of Deja vu. He knew he had been here before or felt like he had been in a similar situation. Shaking his head and scratching his ear he walked back over to the bar and almost sat down until he looked in the mirror behind the counter and saw the customer walk back into the bar carrying a shotgun in his hand. Without thinking, Melvin turned and almost followed the guy down the aisle to the stage but caught himself and stood his ground. This was way too familiar, and he knew that following this guy was the wrong thing to do.

The music stopped and Melvin watched as the customer walked up the steps to the stage where the dancer was spinning around the brass pole. He spied the front door and thought about running out but then thought that only a true coward would run out and leave these people defenseless. Problem was, Vera didn’t give him a gun to defend himself. “Call 911!” Melvin shouted to the bartender and ran to the dressing room to try to find a weapon of some sort. All he could find was underwear, make up and towels. So far no shots.

“What are you doing?” Melvin heard from behind. He turned to face Heather who was busy putting on lip stick. What happened to the music?”

“There’s a crazy fucker out there with a shotgun on the stage,” Melvin replied in a panic. “I told the bartender to call the cops but I don’t have any way of helping anyone out there!”

“That’s not your job, don’t worry about it,” Heather replied. “Vera can’t expect you to take on a guy with a gun. Your job is to kick out rowdy fuckers who don’t know the meaning of the words, “no touching the dancers.”

For a second Melvin felt a little better. But on the inside he felt it was his obligation and duty to do something. Then he heard a blast and the muffled sounds of people shouting. Then another blast. “Holy shit!” he yelled in a panic.

Heather tossed her lipstick on the counter and put her hand to her mouth, wide eyed and scared.