The Keys to Jericho (98 page)

Dash laughs and his dimples make him look goddamned illegal in here. “So if you get a hard-on from any of them, Jericho, they’re hired.”

I snap, “Jesus Christ, Dash.”

“Jared Adam.”

I roll my eyes and Dash says, “Let’s get some alcohol flowing. That’ll dull the pain.”

“Not for your murder.”

Dave grabs a bottle of tequila and sets up several shot glasses. Drops of booze splash onto the black bar, and shine like dark pools. He then drops a bucket of sliced limes and a container of salt. Everyone, except Dad and I take a glass. Dash says, “Drink up, Jericho. Last night as a free man.”

“Quite possibly, since I’ll be serving time for first-degree murder.”

“Oh, you love me.”

“Not what I’m feeling right now.”

Sighing, I take a filled glass and Dash shouts, “Hold up! First, I want to say congratulations to my best friend Jared. May you and Kat have a long and happy marriage, and always a place for me to stay.”

I scoff, “Garage.”

He frowns, but says, “I’ll take it. To Jericho and Merrick.”

Everyone repeats the sentiment before swigging the tequila. I grudgingly down mine, hating that I did, but resigned to the fact I’ll be getting trashed tonight under duress.

Dash scrambles for a lime, while I roll my eyes. Dave keeps the liquor coming, and I take my second shot, fighting it less than the first.

On a roll, Dash slides another shot glass my way and asks, “How’s your sister doing?” When I glare at him, he says, “Really, I mean. She hasn’t said much and looks…”

“Like hell?”

“Defeated.”

I shake my head. “You know how it goes.”

Dash nods, glancing down at the bar, before he grabs another shot and tips the glass, on the fast track to getting drunk. Slamming down the empty glass, he yells, “What’s the hold up, garçon?”

“Your dad is going to slam you for that.”

“He’s the one who sent me to France for two weeks in college. He loves me, too.”

“Doubtful.”

Rio says, “Yeah, Douche. Not from what I heard, either.”

“Okay, now.” Dash pounds on the bar. “Jericho! DDP! Drink up!”

Duquesne picks up his glass, drinking the tequila in a fast gulp. Dash yelps, “That’s it! Jericho, your turn!”

“I did.”

“No, your glass is full.”

“That’s an extra one. Take it.”

Dash gives me a quizzical look, but shrugs and reaches for it, downing it before I even blink.

Dave returns and pours more, and even Rio starts pounding them back. Dave asks, “What’s your poison, Jared? You want something else?”

I shake my head. “Nah. This is good. Thanks.”

Picking up a lime, I put it in my mouth, giving Dash the impression that I’m drinking more than he thinks I am, so he’ll shut the hell up. Dash can put back the booze; however, once he starts, he doesn’t know how to stop on his own, and usually has to be drug out of bars by Rio or me.

I glance over at my dad, who seems to be content, drinking his Coke, taking in our arguing, which also seems true for Tony. Pete, on the other hand, looks bored.

From behind the bar, someone taps me and I look over my shoulder to see Victor. “So Jared Beckett is in love?”

“I am.”

“That sweet Katriona has stolen your heart?”

“She has.”

He kind of hums and I give him a confused look. He says, “You treat her like she’s your stolen treasure. You understand?”

Instead of laughing in his face, I nod. “Understood.”

Dash suddenly laughs. “Oh, sweet Jesus! You know what I just realized?”

All of us stare at him, waiting for his drunk reasoning. He laughs again. “Rio’s name is in
Katriona
. How fucking weird is that?”

Victor heads backstage as Rio shakes his head. “You get plastered in minutes, and that’s the shit you come up with?”

Dash snaps his fingers. “If a turtle has no shell, is it then naked or homeless?”

Pete says, “Soup.”

“Aw, gross, Pete,” Dash whines, reaching for another shot, while sliding another one to me.

Pete asks, “So, should we wager which one of these rookies is going to choke first?”

Dash smacks his lips. “I bet they just need some guidance.”

I grin, and even though I run the risk of seeing Calder’s dick, I think everyone else should suffer, too. Crossing my arms, I nod to the stage. “You should show them how it’s done.”

The lights dim and Dash shrugs. “If I have to. We’ll see what they got first.”

From the overhead speakers, Shell’s voice announces the stripper’s name, which is Heaven Sent. Dash leans over Rio, asking, “What the fuck kind of name is that?”

I reply, “Your mother’s was Cherry Bomb.”

“Well, that’s better than
Heaven Sent
. Definitely not heavenly in here.”

“Maybe that’s the irony.”

“The what? Don’t go turning into Doc Pussy.”

Rio says, “Bite one, Douche.” Crossing his arms, mirroring me, Rio asks, “Do they pick their own damn songs?”

Dash downs a shot and says, “Yeah. Why?”

Rio scoffs, “Who in the fuck strips to ‘Runaway Train?’”

Dash shrugs, looking at the girl with larger-than-life tits, wearing what looks like a burlap sack, an eye mask, and a rainbow clown wig—no lie—taking the stage. “Heaven Sent, apparently.”

I shift my hat and grumble, “Jesus Christ.” Maybe Tony has a nail gun with him.

We sit, watching her unsteadily spinning around and then awkwardly gyrating against the pole. Frowning, I ask no one in particular, “Who would think this shit is remotely hot?”

Pete asks, “A circus clown on crack?”

Even my dad cringes when I look at him. 

Dash asks, “No boner for you then?”

I glare at him while Pete yells, “Take it all off!”

Dash says, “They only go topless here.”

Pete shrugs, taking another shot glass. “Does she know that for sure?”

Dash shrugs in return. “True.” Dash cups his mouth and yells, “Get naked, sweetness!”

Rio mutters, “Shit. It can only get worse from here.”

The girl eventually takes off the bag, revealing a too small, black bikini, and tries to hide herself through her dance moves.

Dash sneers, “Are you kidding me?”

Pete says, “I see more skin in the parking lot at Oceanic.”

I nudge Duquesne. “You see more before you clock in at work.”

He shakes his head, but says, “Uh, yeah.”

Dave laughs at our observations, while filling more glasses. “Shell wasn’t kidding when she said some of these girls were green.”

I laugh. “Green? This one still has milk on her lips!”

As Dash slides another shot to me, he screws up his face. “Huh?”

I glance at Pete, subtly sliding the glass on to him as he clarifies, “She was just pulled off her mother’s tit.”

Recognition lights up Dash’s face and he nods. “Well,
that’s
a visual.”

When she’s finished, Shell announces the next contestant: Mrs. Clitfire.

With a headache brewing, I scoff, “What the fuck?”

Dash asks, “She’s married and advertising that fact as a stripper?”

I irritably retort, “
That’s
the detail you noticed?”

Dash reasons, “Maybe it’s just part of her stage name.”

“She needs to try again. Sounds like she’s advertising some venereal disease.”

Rio offers, “At least she picked ‘Crazy Bitch.’”

Dash shakes his head. “So overplayed.”

“Her outfit isn’t bad,” Pete observes. The purple sequined, cut-off top and matching shorts aren’t as bad as the last one’s choice in costume.

Dash says, “Her mask is too flashy. Too distracting.”

Pete nods. “Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting you’re an expert.”

Shrugging, Dash grabs another shot and slides it to me, ensuring I’m getting my share. “I just know my stripping shit.”

I mutter, “That’s reassuring.”

Pete asks, “Who gets final approval?”

“My mom picks them, but she also helps my dad with the hiring. They both have final approval, I guess.”

I say, “It’s so nice when exes work together for the greater good of stripping.”

“They’re still friends.”

“As they should be. I mean, they did share an unfortunate night of passion, resulting in you.”

“Bite it, Jericho.”

The rookie undulates over to us, taking her top off on her way. Dash says to me, “Drink up, Jericho!”

She stops in front of us and blankly asks, “Which one is the groom?”

I shake my head, not wanting to participate, but it is rather obvious which one of us is the groom with our ridiculous shirts. However, they all point to me anyway.

I sigh as Dash sends another shot my way, which I take this time. Drinking it, I shift on my barstool, making myself inaccessible, while she starts twirling in front of me and shaking her ass. Glancing over at Calder, I growl, “Say your goodbyes now.”

“Blame your dad. He handed the party over to me. He wanted to shoot pool. How boring!”

I move my glower to my father, who shrugs. “I thought you’d want something funner than that.”

“Wrong!”

She puts her hands on my knees, shaking her tits at me, making Rio lean away, distancing himself from the calamity. Her dull, brown eyes are filled with worthless suggestion. I curtly remove her hands from me, and say, “Sorry. You’re married. I don’t do that shit.”

Holding up her hand, she giggles. “No ring tonight!”

I nod to the door, already dismissing this one for Dave and Shell.

As she pouts and heads for the stage to grab her top, Tony says, “At least her wig looked real.”

Rio asks, “If so, how’d you know she was wearing a wig?”

“I saw the tag.”

Dash howls, “Oh, man! And dismissed! Good job, Jericho! See! You did need that mask in the truck!”

I shrug, catching the next shot Dash passes to me. “This could be fun after all.”

Sitting straighter, Rio asks, “Weeding out the unqualified?”

I laugh. “You know. Anything to help Dave and Shell, since they’ve helped me.”

Dash says, “They have no shortage of applicants, so weed away.”

Leaning my elbows onto the bar behind me, Shell announces the next prospect to be Tainted Love, playing her namesake song.

Dash shouts, “Fucking seriously? That’s the best she could do?”

Pete says, “Taint. That word even makes
me
gag.”

I sneer, “Does she even know what that shit means?” I ask Rio, “Why don’t you explain it to her, doc?”

Rio shakes his head before he downs his drink. “Fuck. I’d rather not.”

“Pussy.”

“No. Just smart.”

Dash laughs. “Definitely pussy.”

When she dances onto the stage, her glittery gold mask and gold, metallic wig join forces, blinding us as she swings her hips side to side. Her cheap, gold nightie swings more to the rhythm than she does. Pete says, “Her wig looks like a set of pompoms my sister had as a kid.” Tony laughs, reaching for a shot of tequila.

After shaking around the stage like she’s in a disco earthquake, she sashays off the stage and to us. Dash says, “Executioner, get ready.”

She looks at all of us before her gaze settles on me. I guess this one can read. Crossing my arms, I smirk at her when she licks her lips. Suddenly twirling, she spins her way between my legs, which makes me frown at her and then at Calder’s howling.

Shoving her barely-contained tits into my face, she says, “I allow touching.” That statement makes Calder turn his mouthful of tequila into a spray, and Rio leans toward me this time.

I suck air in through my teeth as I shake my head. “You know, I’m not feeling it
or
your ass.” Shrugging, I give her a not-so contrite smile.

Forgetting about me, she moves on to Duquesne. “
You
can feel me if you want.”

Rio tightly smiles and avoids looking into her bright light. “Uh, I’ll pass. Thanks anyway.”

She tries Calder. “How about you? You’re adorable.”

Dash smugly grins. “Sorry. Underage.”

She jumps back from him like he just announced he has a grenade. “Are you serious?” Dash picks up another shot, nods at her and then empties it in front of her. Christ. How stupid is she?

Scowling at us, she puts her hands on her hips and says, “Well, you’re all a bunch of sticks in the mud. Loosen up.”

“If I wanted to touch you, I would.” I nod to the door. “Next.”

She glances at the others in the small audience and when nobody objects, she turns in a huff. “Assholes.”