“I took care of him,” Pam said, enunciating with care. She smiled at me. Speckles of blood had landed on her pink silk blouse, so I told her to button her coat up again. I tied it shut. “That was fun,” she said guilelessly.
“I’m glad you had a good time,” I muttered, “since I planned all this for your benefit.” We stepped out of the office in the corridor and let the door shut behind us. If we could just make it to the car . . . Mohawk was staring at us from his place on the stool by the back door.
Then that door opened, and two cops walked in.
And we’d been doing so well.
The pulsing noise of the stripper music and the office soundproofing had drowned out the shots. I knew this, because no employees had come to check on the gunfire. So no one had summoned these guys; therefore, they must be friends of the management, since they’d entered through the rear.
I was trying to think, and think fast, and my brain was a little too crowded (what with shooting an elf, seeing a guy lose his facial features, and whatnot). One thing I was clear about was wanting to stay out of jail. These cops might not even be within their own jurisdiction, but we had to avoid coming to their attention.
After giving Mohawk a casual wave, they’d stopped to talk to a short, curvy stripper in a platinum wig, which meant they were blocking the rear exit. If we reversed direction and tried to walk out through the front, we’d attract even more attention, I figured.
“Whoops,” said Pam cheerfully. “What now, my perky friend?”
“You girls ready to try out?” Mohawk called, and the cops glanced at us before resuming their conversation. Mohawk pointed to the DANCERS IN HERE sign.
I said, “We sure are, sugar! We go in there to put on our costumes?”
He nodded, and his Mohawk swayed. Pam giggled. I’d never heard Pam giggle like that. “Course, most girls don’t even bother with a costume,” Mohawk said, grinning.
“I think you’ll find we’re not most girls,” I said, arch as all hell.
He was interested. “How’re you two different?”
“We’re always together,” I said. “Get what I mean?”
“Uh, yeah,” he said. His eyes darted from the clearly sloshed Pam to me. “So, go change. It’s audience night. They vote after you take your turn. You could end up on permanent staff.”
Oh . . . yay. I knew there were speckles of blood on Pam. Vampires could always smell blood. As we passed him in the narrow hall, I didn’t dare to meet Mohawk’s eyes.
I steered my drunken vampire friend into the designated room. It was a huge nothing. There were about twenty folding chairs set around at random, and about six of those were occupied by women waiting their turn. The others had already had their stage time and left, I assumed. No screen to change behind, no makeup table, no hangers—no clothes hooks, even. There was a full- length mirror propped against the wall, and that was it. The glamour just overwhelmed me.
The aspiring strippers were all blondes: At least, they’d achieved blonde-dom by some means. They glanced at us and looked away. One face looked vaguely familiar.
I helped Pam to a chair. She sat heavily. Her complexion was still hectic, but at least the red patches were fading and she looked more like a regular vampire and less like cherry vanilla ice cream. Speaking of red dots, I hastily spat on a tissue and dabbed at the specks of blood on Pam’s blouse. I’d been very fortunate; a quick glance into the full-length mirror confirmed that I was unbloodied. “All right, genius, what do we do now?” I asked myself, aloud.
Pam said, “I’ll, I’ll . . . appeal to her. She has two extra costumes.” She nodded toward the woman I sort of recognized.
Pam was oddly sure about what the wannabe dancer—who I realized was a vamp—had in her huge tote bag.
“Pam, you did great in there,” I whispered.
“So did you. You’re so cute,” she said. “No wonder Eric likes you.”
I glanced out into the hall. The cops were still there, still having a lively conversation with the curvaceous stripper. Crap.
Pam rose cautiously and went over to the vamp, who was sitting by herself, looking bored. She had the requisite blond hair (so did the only African American applicant, by the way) and enormous boobs, and