Pink Butterfly (16 page)

“Is there another way out of this dressing room?” Melvin asked.

“No, only the door you came in,” Heather replied almost in tears.

“If he walks in here, we’re fucked,” Melvin said looking around for anything he could use as a defensive weapon.

Then another two blasts and silence.

“We have to get out of here,” Melvin said trying to keep Heather calm. “We can’t afford to let him trap us in here. He’s already pissed at me for kicking him out in the first place, and he probably won’t hesitate to shoot you as well.”

Heather nodded in agreement and followed Melvin to the door of the dressing room. Melvin slowly peeked around the corner to see where the shooter was and looked back to Heather. “I don’t see him,” he whispered.

“What do you see?” Heather asked.

“A lot of empty chairs,” Melvin replied. “I think most of the customers ran out the emergency exits or back door.”

“Maybe he left?” Heather asked.

“Maybe,” Melvin restated not knowing for sure.

The two stood in the doorway for minutes listening to anything they could to tell if it was safe to try to leave the dressing room and run for the front door. Melvin inched his way out the door and slid his back against the wall spying around the corner to make sure the coast was clear. So far so good and he signaled for Heather to follow. Slowly they made their way into the main room, stepped alongside the now abandoned bar and almost tip toed towards the front door. Still there was no sound from any customers or the gunman. It ran through Melvin’s mind that maybe the safest place to be was actually in the bar instead of outside where the gunman might be. He turned to face Heather and held up his hand for her to stop. “Maybe we should stay inside?” he asked.

“Why?” Heather replied.

“He might be in the parking lot.”

“Holy shit, make up your mind!” Heather whispered back.

“I don’t know what to do,” Melvin said swallowing hard.

Then they heard a popping sound from outside the building and realized the gunman was no longer in the building.

“Do you have keys to the door?” Heather asked in a panic.

Melvin dug through his pockets and found the keys Vera had given him for his job. “Vera gave me these keys but she didn’t say they were to the door!”

“Give me those!” Heather yelled grabbing the keys. She ran to the front door and started trying keys till she found one that fit, turned and locked it. She gave the door a good tug and it didn’t move.

“How many doors does this place have?” Melvin asked.

Heather thought for a second. “The front door, the back door and the emergency exits. The only doors you can get in the building from are the front and back. The emergency exits only open from the inside.”

“Ok, let’s lock the back door,” Melvin said in a slurry of rushed words.

Together the two took off down the aisle, past fallen and tipped over chairs towards the back door. As they hurried towards the back, they spotted two bodies on the floor lying between some tables and a large smear of blood on the elevated dance floor.

“That was Kandy!” Heather shouted looking for her body.

“Where are the cops?” Melvin yelled.

“The cops won’t come here you dumbass! You know this is an embassy!” Heather snapped back.

It took Melvin a minute but now he remembered where he was and what Vera had told him the night before. The Deja vu was too real now. “Where’s my shotgun? The one I brought in last night?” Melvin asked.

“Down in Vera’s office I think,” Heather replied. “We can get it after we lock the back door!”

Heather ran into the back room and locked the only remaining door accessible from the outside. She came back into the main room and walked over to the stage where Melvin was standing on the other side looking down at Kandy’s shot up body. “Is she dead?” Heather asked.

“Oh yeah, she’s dead,” Melvin said trying not to puke. “I haven’t heard a shot in over ten minutes, maybe he’s gone,” Melvin said.

“You want to get your gun?” Heather asked.

“I really don’t want to get in a shotgun battle with anyone to tell you the truth, they are very messy weapons. Easy to aim, but nasty when they hit you. Let’s wait this out and see if he tries to come back.”

“What do we do in the mean time?”

“We can chit chat,” Melvin replied sarcastically. “Or maybe we can find a mop and a bucket and get this place cleaned up.” Melvin pushed some chairs around and leaned back on the stage. “If this is an embassy, and the cops aren’t allowed here, then what do you do if you need a fire truck or ambulance?” Melvin asked.

“We are supposed to provide our own security for obvious governmental reasons, but as far as fire and rescue, we allow them on the property.”

“Then where are they? I told the bartender to call 911 fifteen minutes ago.”

“I don’t know,” Heather replied. “Maybe he ran away before he could call. Could be a thousand different reasons. Point is, we are alone, trapped in this building and somewhere outside is a man with a shotgun who has already killed at least three people.”

“Why don’t we just go downstairs where we’ll be safe?”

“We can’t, see that light up there above the private dance sign? When that’s lit up, the embassy is on lock down and the elevator is shut off until the danger is clear. We are on our own.”

“Who decides when it’s all clear?” Melvin asked.

“Vera does, from her office. She monitors all the action in here.”

“So she can see us now?”

“Yes, from ten different cameras”

The Pink Butterfly was now quiet. Only the sounds of the ice machine and the breathing of Melvin and Heather broke the silence. It was going on eleven and a fog was rolling in blocking the view from the front glass doors. Except for the dark figure of a woman standing outside looking into the club. “Who the hell is that?” Heather asked looking back at the front glass doors.

Melvin took a step forward and immediately recognized the figure of Laurie Delgado, the woman he had locked in his trunk. “I thought your people were going to check my trunk?” Melvin said in disbelief.

“I thought they did,” Heather replied. The female figure stood still, backlit from the parking lot lights, casting a long shadow across the floor. “Do you think that’s the girl from your trunk?”

“It’s been almost two days, I was sure she suffocated by now,” Melvin replied. “But who the fuck knows?” Melvin slowly walked towards the front door keeping an eye on the dark figure behind the glass. The closer he got to her, the more sure the woman was Laurie. Melvin stopped at the edge of the carpet, a good ten feet from the glass and raised his hand to see if the she would respond. She raised her hand mimicking Melvin and he knew he had her attention. “Laurie?” he asked.

The woman nodded her head in agreement.

“What are you doing here?” Melvin asked.

The woman didn’t respond.

Heather stepped up behind Melvin and asked him who she was.

“Her name is Laurie Delgado. I got it in my head she was my wife and that she was cheating on me so I killed her husband and put her in my trunk.”

“That’s kind of a stretch don’t you think?” Heather asked.

“What’s more of a stretch is that I am divorced and my wife’s name is Dixie. I don’t remember Dixie, let alone being married to her.”

“Are you some sort of mental case?” Heather asked.

“If I were, would I know?” Melvin replied.

Laurie continued to stand out in the fog looking into the club. She had put her hand back down and was no longer moving.

“What does she want?” Heather asked.

“This is just a guess, but I think she wants in.”

“Are you going to let her in?”

“Fuck no!” Melvin stated.

“You can’t leave her standing out there with a killer running around the parking lot!”

Melvin scratched the staples on his chest and thought long and hard. “If she wants in that bad, she’ll say something. From the looks of her, she doesn’t seem too worried.”

“Do something!” Heather barked.

“You do something!” Melvin barked back. “Until she says something, holds up a sign or starts running away, I’m staying in here.”

“What a fucking bastard,” Heather said ripping the keys from Melvin’s pants pocket. “I’ll let her in.” Heather walked to the glass doors, unlocked one and swung it open for Laurie. The dark shadowy woman stood still as the fog rolled into the club. “You coming in or not?” Heather asked in a tired and bitchy tone.

Laurie looked to Heather and then back to Melvin. She took a few steps, walked into the club and stopped under a recessed light in the ceiling that lit her up like a porcelain doll. Laurie was dusky grey and her lips were blue. Her clothes were still covered with blood from her husband who was left cut up in the shower stall.

“I am really confused,” Melvin said. “Why the hell did I think you were my wife?”

Laurie pushed the hair out of her eyes and looked at Melvin. “I was your wife, three years ago,” she replied. “We were divorced.”

“But the computer has no record of us being married? I was married to some Dixie.”

“The computer is wrong,” Laurie replied.

“Then why do I think my name is Melvin?”

“You’re step fathers name was Melvin, Melvin Skankmeyer,” Laurie replied. “Your name is Jeff Delgado, and you killed me.”

“When you say “was” what do you mean?”

“Melvin was put to death on the electric chair. He murdered a woman he was stalking and her boyfriend.”

Melvin’s head began to spin realizing he was living his life and the life of his stepfather at the same time. As if he and his stepfather were the same person. He was mixed up and confused and still had no idea why is ex-wife was standing in front of him looking like a blood drained suffocated Barbie doll. “Sorry for the bluntness,” Melvin said to Laurie. “Are you dead or something?”

“I’m still locked in your trunk, maybe you should find out for yourself,” she replied.

(18 months later)

Alicia slid her back down the bedroom wall and spread her legs for the mirror so she could see what she looked like practicing her pole dance. At eighteen years old, her ambition in life was to make a lot of money stripping and taking advantage of horny men. She had no pole and had to make do with what she had, which wasn’t more than a bedroom and some clothes she purchased online from a smutty sex store. In the background she played dance music on her stereo and dimmed the lights so she could get the feel for what it would be like to be dancing on the stage in a real club. Her audition for the manager was the next day and she didn’t want to look like she didn’t have a clue what she was doing.

Then her bedroom door opened and her mother stepped in. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing young lady?” Mary Campbell, Alicia’s mother asked in a loud, stern and pissed tone.

Startled, Alicia wearing only a pink G-string and six inch heels slid back up the wall and faced her mother.

“Are you pretending to be some kind of whore?” Mary asked. “Where did you get those shoes?”

Alicia covered her large breasts by folding her arms across them and looked to the ground trying not to make eye contact with her mother.

“Wait till your father hears about this!” Mary yelled. “Are you going to say something or just stand there like a porn star wannabe?”

Alicia looked up at her mother with a frown on her pretty face. “I’m in my own room mother, I can do what I want.”

“Oh no you can’t,” Mary snapped back. “You can’t do drugs in here, you aren’t allowed to bring boys in here and damn if I’m going to let you dress like a hooker and pretend to be a stripper in my house!”

“I’m not pretending!” Alicia yelled back. “I’m auditioning tomorrow at the Pink Butterfly!”

Mary stood dumbfounded in the doorway with a blank look in her eye. “The Pink Butterfly?” she asked. “Are you fucking stupid? You start college in three months.”

“I know, and this is how I’m paying for it,” Alicia responded timidly. “I don’t want to be a burden to you and dad.”

“Then go apply at the grocery store for God’s sake! Stripping is no career! It’s the path to self-destruction!”

“More girls do it than you think. It’s not like it was when you were young, now a days college girls strip and make a shit load of money.”

“I didn’t raise you to make money off your, your vagina, I raised you to make money off your mind.”

“I am making money off my mind. No other job pays as well as stripping, not even close.”

“How do you know?”

“Jenny told me, she works at the Pink Butterfly. She makes six hundred a week.”

“I don’t care if they made her the Princess of China, no amount of money is worth squatting down and spreading your legs for men for dollar tips!”

“You’re just pissed because you make shit tips for waiting tables! You’re jealous!”

“Oh no, I would never sell my body for money, no way. I have pride and morals, and if you don’t, you’ll be moving your slut operation out of this house. Do you hear me?”

“If I get the job, I won’t need to live here, I’ll make enough money to buy my own house!”

Pissed as fire, Mary stepped into Alicia’s room and shut off her stereo. She picked up a shirt off the floor and flung it at her. “Put this on now you dirty filthy little whore! As long as you live here, you will be dressed, like a lady, all the time!”

Alicia slipped the shirt on trying not to look at her mother.

“Where is your bra?” Mary asked. Alicia pointed to a hat rack across the room where a leopard print bra hung from a rung. “Nice,” Mary said sarcastically. Do men like it when you do “tricks” for them? Are you going to learn to pick up dollars with your ass?”

“That’s enough mother, I get your point,” Alicia said biting her lip.

“Do you have more of this shit in here? Anymore slut clothes? Slut shoes?”

“I have my audition clothes and a few others.”

“Give them to me,” Mary stated holding out her hand.

“No, I need them for tomorrow. Jenny is meeting me there, I already have plans.”

“No you don’t, no daughter of mine is auditioning at a strip joint ever. I have friends in this community and I will not be known as the mother of a stripper. Give me the clothes now!”