Cameron had taken the simplest approach. Since Adam, men had delighted in looking at women. The more of women men could see, the better men liked it. Laws forbidding toplessness were foredoomed.
An earlier generation had thought it best that everyone stop drinking alcohol. That generation had learned that people liked to drink alcohol. So Prohibition was repealed.
Threats against the displaying of minimally clothed women held the same chance for success.
Cameron had put all his chips on the right number and won … big. Now he had no need nor any inclination to take on a partner. Especially not Dr. Moses Green.
THE PRESENT
Jake Cameron had finished his narration some moments before Father Koesler realized it was ended. “You mean,” Koesler said, “that Mrs. Green, that sophisticated woman I spent practically this whole afternoon with, once worked as a cashier in a topless bar?”
“Well,” Cameron hedged, “she was a cashier. She was also treasurer and …well … just about everything except dancer or bouncer. It was just plain fool’s luck that I found Joe Blinstraub. He isn’t as multitalented as Margie-but … almost.”
“And she was your … what
Cameron nodded.
“But she just left you and went with Dr. Green?”
Again Cameron nodded. “He had more money and power than either of us figured we’d see in our lifetimes. I don’t blame her. I’d have done the same.”
“Even with the difference in their ages?”
“When I met Moe in ’74, he was thirty-six. Margie was nineteen. Now he’s fifty-eight, she’s forty-one. What can I say? She made a commitment and kept it.”
“You know her much better than I,” Koesler said. “But this afternoon, believe me, she was no passive person. I got the clear impression that no one-
“Oh, I see what you mean …” Cameron needed a cigarette. He promised himself one after finishing with Koesler-even if it was chilly outside. “You’re right. Ordinarily, Margie is in charge-oh, I’d say 90 percent of the time. But she came close to meeting her match in Green.
“One example: Green had been divorced before he met Margie. She made him get some kind of additional divorce-a Catholic one-before she would marry him.”
“An annulment.”
“Yeah, that’s it. They put him through the wringer. A lot of time and a lot of trouble. But she got him to do it. That’s pretty much how it’s been with them over the years. Now, I would guess it’s probably fifty-fifty. But, you gotta remember: I get my information second-and third-hand. When Margie left me, she left me. As far as I know, she’s been faithful to him. Which, of course, is probably more than you could say as far as he’s concerned.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Father, I feel the need for a weed ….”
“Oh, of course. Just one last question: When we met a few minutes ago, I think you said that you and Dr. Green were partners. But then you said you repaid the loan two years early … you said you absolutely refused his bid to become your partner. I mean you seemed very resolute-very!”
Cameron grinned mirthlessly. “Things change. Especially when someone is pulling your string.”
THE PAST
It was 1990.
Employee turnover at Virago was high, compared with other area restaurants. Most eateries did not offer top wages or anything close to top. Many employees were young and wanted to improve their opportunities.
With the topless bar, customers-almost all of whom were male-wanted new bodies from time to time. What they got were mostly new faces. The bodies were much the same from one dancer to the next.
Virago had become the premier topless bar/restaurant in the metropolitan area. Its dancers were as good as they came, both in talent and looks. Nonetheless, the cast did change periodically.
Jake Cameron had final say at the auditions of prospective dancers. Realistically, he was a good judge of performance. More deeply, he enjoyed the hell out of beautiful women au naturel-or as close thereto as possible.
Sixteen contestants had already performed this morning. Each had received the same valedictory from Jake Cameron: “Thanks. We’ll call you.”
Actually, it was a considerable achievement to have reached this level in auditions for Virago. These women had survived three previous cuts, having been winnowed by Cameron’s attorney and chief assistant, Joe Blinstraub.
The final two applicants waited in the wings. One extended her hand. “Hi. I’m Susan Batson.”
The other took her hand. “Judy Young. Cold in here, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. But I’m so nervous I don’t notice it much.” Susan, with soft chocolate skin, was gorgeous.
“Well, I do. I don’t mind being last, but not if it means coming down with a cold.” Judy’s naturally curly brunette hair cascaded over her shoulders, as if a comb had not even been run through it. Her hair, along with everything else about her, was perfect.
She peered around the curtain. “Is Jake Cameron out there? Do you know what he looks like, Susan? Which one is he?”
Susan didn’t need to look; she had scouted this territory en route to the dressing room. “He’s the best-looking guy out there. Nice dark hair, styled. Good strong face. Broad shoulders. Probably got great buns. Sleeves rolled up. Holding the pad and pencil. You can’t miss him.”
Judy smiled. “Not after that description.”
“Susan, we’re ready for you,” a masculine voice called.
“Wish me luck.”
“You got it.”
As Susan danced out onto the stage, she was thinking of the earlier contestants whom she could outperform. That was a happy thought, because she knew that even if Judy Young were to stumble over her own feet, she’d still win a spot. No one should be allowed to look that perfect.
Judy watched Susan dance. Good. Very good. But not good enough to beat her.
If Susan had had the interpretive training and classic instruction that Judy’d had-maybe. Susan was pretty enough; no problem there. And her dancing flowed. But there was something to be said for technical excellence and classical training. Judy’s routine would knock their eyes out.
There was scattered applause as Susan finished. Cameron’s “Thanks. We’ll call you,” for once sounded sincere.
While Cameron, Blinstraub, and three other men tabulated Susan’s score, Judy tried to psych herself out of shivering. Finally, the same bored male voice called, “Okay; we’re ready for you, Judy.”
Judy bounded onstage to a crashing chord. She writhed around a pole, working her way to the floor much like a hypnotic serpent. She was all over the stage with impossible leaps and unexpected hesitations.
She was playing directly to Jake Cameron, and she was easily as seductive as Salome. All that remained was to determine whose head she wanted. Cameron wasn’t quite ready to offer her half his kingdom, but he was inclined to be most generous. Seldom if ever had such an accomplished talent auditioned as a go-go dancer.
Judy’s impressive finale elicited uniquely universal applause. Smiling, she stood stock-still, absorbing the adulation. No “Thanks. We’ll call you.” Instead, Cameron, followed by the other men, left his chair and moved to the stage, still applauding. Judy blushed.
The blush was definitely unexpected. Cameron recalled her resume. She was eighteen. Just a kid. That explained her embarrassment. Would the customers find that sort of reaction a turn-on? Cameron didn’t know; he’d never seen an act like hers on a stage like this.
One thing was clear: She had a lot to learn. And he knew who her teacher would be.
Finally, Cameron motioned; the other men retreated, leaving him with Judy. “That was something! Where’d
