Tuesday, February 08, 2005

An Unattended Death, Part 5

      The oil boom brought a lot of fast money and outsiders to western Oklahoma. It had also brought more vice as adult bookstores, adult video stores and "gentleman's clubs" sprang up near the oilfields.
      After the bust, most of them went out of business as oil field after oil field shut down. Counties and cities, notably Oklahoma City, zoned most of remaining ones out of existence. But the Stuttering Rooster survived. On I-40 near Elk City, it catered to truckers, college students, roughnecks, rednecks, bikers, anyone with cash and a desire to see REAL LIVE GIRLS.
      I had driven past it before but never stopped. No, really, I hadn't. It intimidated me, all those trucks and the bright neon that outlined the building. And with images from TV shows running around in my head, I could only imagine what went on inside.
      In the half hour that it took me to drive there, I tried to figure out why I was going. It was my only lead to Marlene, but even if I found her, what would I say? And why should she talk to me?
      One thing at a time, I thought. I'd first just check and see if her car was in the parking lot. If not, then back home. If so ... I'd make that decision then.
      It was just about six or so, but the parking lot was already half-filled. I drove around, trying to see her car. I found a couple of red ones that could be hers, but I couldn't be certain. There was only one way to find out.
      They charged $10 to get through the door. The bored over-blown blonde who took my money explained there was a two-drink minimum. Yikes. This wasn't going to be cheap. I could hear a country-western party song booming.
      I stepped through swinging doors. A huge man sitting on a stool glanced over at me. He didn't look friendly. The floor had sawdust scattered around. I made my way to the first booth I could find, almost stumbling in my haste to find a corner. The cigarette smoke made my eyes water. I sneezed several times. Yeah, I was Mr. Cool.
      On a small stage an insanely flexible woman danced around a pole. Her pasties were white stars, her thong was blue, and her high heels were red. A patriotic lass.
      A waitress wearing a cowgirl miniskirt and a red hat came to take my order. I ordered a Coke.
      "You still have to pay drink price, honey," she said.
      "That’s okay," I said. "Go ahead and bring me two of them." Might as well get that two-drink minimum out of the way.
      "Ooo, I’ve got a hot one here," she said, flashing a smile that revealed a gold tooth.
      I smiled back. What was I doing here? I looked around for Marlene. I didn't see her, but if she was a performer, maybe she was on break.
      The waitress brought my Cokes. I handed her a twenty. She gave me a ten back. Ouch. Rockford apparently had enough money for this kind of stuff.
      I raised my Coke and on the edge of the glass was the unmistakable print of someone’s lips. Okay, I wouldn't drink anything. And as my eyes adjusted, and I began to be able to see the Rooster clearly, I realized I would need to burn all my clothes as soon as I got home. I would have to bathe in bleach.
      Several girls wandered around the tables, asking men if they wanted to buy them a drink or wanted a lap dance.
      A redhead asked me. I just shook my head no, not trusting my voice not to squeak. I needed to get out of here. This was no place for--
      Marlene stepped out of a door across from me. She was dressed as a waitress, but she didn't carry a tray. Instead, a large leather purse draped across her shoulder. Two men followed her out and left without looking back. She wandered around the tables, stopping to talk to three or four men scattered around the room. I couldn't see her clearly due to the crowd and smoke, but it seemed that men were giving her envelopes that she placed in her purse. She would take something out of the purse and slide it to them. I couldn't tell what it was, but it had to be drugs. She wasn't really making much attempt to hide it. Obviously she felt safe in this place. So the management had to be in on whatever was happening.
      I caught a tough looking guy looking at me. He had on a leather cap, leather vest, leather pants, and leather boots, all in black. His eyes gleamed above a huge black moustache. I hunched over my Coke, but couldn't bring myself to actually drink it. I glanced up. He was heading directly toward my table. Either I was about to get killed or have a really awkward date proposal. This was the reward for being too curious.
      He sat down and thrust his face toward me. I shrank back.
      "What are you doing here?" he growled. "And I'd better get a good answer if you know what's good for you!"
(To be continued)
© 2005. All rights reserved.

4 comments:

CrystalDiggory said...

Very well done! Please, don't make us wait for days for the next installment. :)

Trixie said...

I'm absolutely loving this -- I could use another chapter tonight for a bedtime story! (Crime stories are my fave!)

Erudite Redneck said...

This is givin' me flashbacks. Not that I ever, um, frequented such establishments as a single guy. Ahem. Not THAT frequently, anyway. ... Just don't ask me where I was the night of the bomb at the Olympics in Atlanta in '96. Ahem. Just don't ask me where they knew to page somebody from a certain newspaper when Page 1 had to be torn up and remade almost on deadline. Just don't ask me. (Fooled ya! It was my boss who got paged! Not that I was out partyin' with him or anything. Ahem.)

Anonymous said...

O this is getting good!!!
-Texan Susan