Saturday, May 2, 2015

Honeymoon (Part 10)

     There was one club we haven't visited yet, just out of chance.  Actually it was instinct, as it was an all-black club, both dancers and patrons.
     To say our arrival was greeted with hostility would be an understatement.  While nobody threw anything at us, we were the subject of plenty of dirty looks.  I finally had to go up to the bar to get our beers.  We finished them quickly and got the hell out.

     We asked about it in the next club down.  "Oh yeah, the Black Panther is not a mixed club.  I'm surprised the doorman let you in at all.  We're more friendly, c'mon in."  So we did.  Ginny was that's night's winner of free MDMA.
     Squeak was back at the back door when we returned, hoping for (and receiving) another handout.  We'd run to the Kroger tomorrow and pick up kitten chow.
     We ran to Kroger in the morning  and bought canned kitten chow, putting it out on a plate by the door before we left for the day.  We had an adventurous day ahead: we were driving to the Keys.  It was at least 150 miles into the keys from where we were, further to Kay West.  Still, it would be nice to do a serious road trip and see what there is to see.
     Nobody mentioned it's a damn scary drive.  Most of it is on a slender ribbon of concrete suspended above the water.  You get the impression there is no margin for error, else you go in the drink.
     The median speed was set by motor homes ambling along.  There were no passing lanes, so there was nothing to do but relax and enjoy the ride.  We stopped in Marathon for lunch and kept rolling.  I'd heard Key West was quite the party town, and I wished to find that out for myself.
     Key West lived up to its reputation.  There was a bar on every street, with the locals inviting you in for a drink.  I had a couple Margaritas then switched to soda (driver's burden).  Bekka got fairly sloshed as we walked through the town.  By the time we decided to head back home she was well blitzed.  She made up sea shanties as we drove.
     Squeak was waiting for us when we got home, wanting another meal.  By the bloating of his stomach I guessed he had worms on top of everything else.  That, or it was just plain malnutrition.  Tomorrow, the vet.

     The vet said, "It's a good thing you brought him in when you did.  He has worms, he's malnourished, he's eaten alive by fleas, and he needs his shots.  By his teeth I'd say he's about twelve weeks old, but looks smaller due to the malnutrition.  He'll always be a small cat.  So you two are adopting him?"
      "Yes, we're gonna bring him back to San Diego with us."
     "We've got to get him healthy first."
     Squeak spent three days ($550) in the veterinary hospital, being de-wormed and de-fleaed and otherwise pampered.  He was like a whole new cat when we saw him: his coat had a gloss, his eyes shined, and he wasn't covered with tiny black hopping things..  He was friendlier too, since he wasn't so miserable..We explained to Consuela that the cat was healthy and would live in the house for the last two days we were there.  He'd box-trained himself, so that was no issue.
     "we need  a carrier for him.  I'm not having him ride in the cargo bay.  He's riding with us."  This from Bekka.  Hey, it was fine with me too.  We went to a pet store and told them our situation, with which they were happy to help.  They had a small carrier with a water dish built in that was airline approved.  I asked about the cat evacuating its bowels and was told the carrier would clean in an  airline  sink.... But to not feed the cat for twelve hours before the flight.

     That afternoon, much to Bekka's annoyance, I called Inana Productions to see how things were running.  Frankie picked up the phone immediately.
     "Lenny!  How's the honeymoon?  Having a good time?"
     "Yeah.  We're bringing home a souvenir cat, if you can believe that.  So how's things going?"
     "Just great.  You left the financials in perfect order, and I've got two new girls on the line.  I'm waiting until you're back to get final approval, but they're gorgeous and they can actually act.  They should work out well."
     "Any troubles?"
     "Well....A couple of irregulars got in a shoving match over God knows what.  We broke it up and sent them home.  Beyond that, everything is going great.  Hey, get a lap dance for me, willya?"
     "Can do.  Talk to you in a few days, Frankie."
     Bekka asked, "So how are things going?"
     "According to Frankie, just fine.  No problems at all."
     Bekka smiled at me and said, "See?  You worry about nothing."
     "It's my job to worry.  I'm twenty-one and I'm running an entire business.  Don't  you see how that can be kind of stressful?"
     "But don't let it eat you up.  You're smart, you can handle it."
     "Thank you for your faith, gorgeous."

     That night we went out and got Frankie's lap dance.  It was a good one, and the girl in question got a hit of MDMA as a tip, for which she was grateful..  In fact our reputation preceded us.
     "yeah, I've heard of you guys.  Y'all that crazy couple that gets dancers high on 'E' for no reason.  What's your trip?
     "Correction: we give out Ecstasy to the first dancers who are nice to us.  You were nice, so you got high."
     "Yeah, all the girls along the strip are talking about you.  You're the crazy married couple who gives out free drugs, and good ones.".
     "Well, thank you."
     "You know, y'all could make a fortune selling that stuff.  Are you local?"
     "Sorry, we're from California.  Besides, I refuse to sell drugs, I prefer giving them away or at most bartering for them.  Like the clubs here: I give away Ecstasy, the girl gives away a lap dance.. A fair trade, I suppose."
     "And I get the vicarious thrill of seeing my husband get turned on," said Bekka.

     We walked past the biker dive and I was collared by the doorman.  "Dude, I gotta ask, what was that stuff?  I felt great all night!"
     "Well sir, it's methyl-dioxy methamphetamine, also known as Ecstasy.  I trust my source, otherwise I wouldn't be handing them out the way I do."
     "Ya can make a fortune with those, dude!  Where they come from?"
     So ya FedEx 'em out  and we're gold!  We could make a mint."
     Bekka's shoe was grinding down my shin.  I told the doorman, "Sorry, but I'm out of that racket.  I used to move meth in volume and the stress got to be too much.  I'm living a nice quiet live now..  Besides, there's gotta be a source for Ecstasy out here...."
     "There is, but it all sucks.  Not even worth taking."
     "That sucks."
     "we bid him goodnight and continued up the sidewalk.  A thought struck me.  "Hey Bekka, I don't have to get involved with the guy, but I know a certain biker who wouldn't mind expanding his business."
     "Exactly.  The two would get along on a personal level, and could arrange a decent business agreement.   We'd fly out over the weekend and I'd introduce them, let 'em sniff butts."
     "And you wouldn't make a penny out of all this."
     "No, but what's wrong with helping out a friend?  If things worked out, Boss would probably give me more free Ecstasy."
     "So you'd set up the transactions, then fade away into the background?"
     "I can live with that.  I don't want you dealing any more, it scares me.  I don't want to lose you."
     "That's why I stopped, babe."

     We'd already been in the next club we came to, but went in anyway and were treated like the prodigal son.  Eight or so dancers swarming us, offering "favors" in exchange for the MDMA they'd heard so much about.  We still had plenty, so we handed them out like Scrooge at an N.A. Christmas pageant.  Forty-five minutes later the girls were grinding on each other, and not part of the stage show.
      "Our work is done here," I said.  "Nothing more beautiful than a room full of people on 'E'."
     "Let's sit and watch the show for a while.  We'll count how many lap dances you get for free."
     Total number of lap dances that night: seven, including a couple doubles by two girls.


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