“I like my name. Most people think it’s fake. Most people think my boobs are fake, too. But they’re real.”
“I saw that.”
“Want to see some more?”
“No, thanks.”
She looked disappointed. “I thought you wanted a dance.”
“What I wanted was to see you. Please, sit down.” She sat and O’Brien said, “Tell me about you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your dreams. What you want to do with your life.”
“Are you a producer or something?”
“No, just curious.”
“I just started college…Miami-Dade Community College. I do this job to help pay the expenses. And I’d eventually like to teach third grade.”
“Why third grade?”
“My favorite teacher, Miss Stafford, taught third grade. But most importantly, I really love kids. I think I can make a positive difference in their lives. That might sound like hot air coming from someone like me, a nobody, a stripper, but it’s true.”
O’Brien smiled. “I believe you, and I believe you’ll get there, if you want to bad enough. Look, Barbie, have you ever been to Club Oz?”
“No, and I hear it’s thirty dollars just to get in the door.”
“How’d you like to go?”
“Are you like for real?”
“It’s a long story. You can help get me to the front of the line and in the door.”
“I don’t know. What if-”
“When do you get out of here?”
“My shift ends in an hour?”
“Can you go now? I’m not some nut. I need to see a man in Club Oz.”
“Who, the wizard?” She laughed at her joke. Perfect smile and teeth.
“I’ll pay you three hundred dollars just to go in the place. From there, stay if you want, or you can call a cab.”
“Well, as you saw, I do like to dance. What are you going to do?”
“Visit with and old acquaintance.”
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
“Trust me-the dress you’re wearing is fine.”
“Okay, I guess. But I still have an hour on my shift.”
“Tell them you’re sick.”
“I can tell them I started my period early. That way I can say I’ll take the dress and dry clean it. But I don’t want them to see me leaving with you. They’ll think I’m doing free-lance hooking. That’s where I draw the line.”
“I’ll meet you outside. I’m driving a Jeep.”
“I’ll be right out, but I’m gonna call my girlfriend, give her a description of you and tell her where I’m going. I’ll tell her if I don’t call by midnight to call the police.”
“Good idea,” O’Brien said with a smile.
Outside, O’Brien unlocked his Jeep and made sure his Glock was where he’d left it. He started the engine and pulled to the front entrance to Club Paradise. Barbie had brushed her long, dark hair, applied lip-gloss and a little make-up. O’Brien watched her walk like a runway model. She was a stunning woman, hourglass figure zipped into the red dress with a slit all the way up the right leg to her brown thigh. The low-cut dress accentuated her ample cleavage. Her breasts recoiled as she walked on her platform high heels. She walked right past him a good forty yards, turned a corner and disappeared.
“Smart kid,” mumbled O’Brien.
He drove in the direction he last saw her, slowly turning the corner, and then he saw her standing in the shadows of a thick palm tree. He stopped the Jeep. She looked around quickly and climbed in the front seat. “I’ve never ridden in a Jeep before. Can we put the top down? I like to go topless.”
O’Brien laughed, his own laughter sounding oddly foreign. He’d forgotten what he felt like. “Sure, we can put the top down.” He unzipped the top and rolled it back.
They drove down Ocean Drive, the wind whipping Barbie’s hair, her breasts threatening to bounce out of the dress.
“I like it!” she said. “Kinda crazy date, but I like it!”
“And the night’s just began,” O’Brien pulled away and headed towards Joe’s Stone Crab.
FORTY-SIX
Joe’s Stone Crab parking lot was almost filled, even at 11:00 P.M. on a Friday night. O’Brien pulled off Washington Avenue and parked.
Barbie used both hands to push her hair out of her face. “What a wild ride. I love stone crabs! I can smell the garlic out here. And I’m starvin’.”
“I’m getting take-out,” said O’Brien. “Wait here. I called in the order.”
O’Brien walked to the carry-out window and said, “I ordered a single live crab.”
A perspiring cashier wiped his hands on a towel. “What’s the name?
“Ralph Jones.”
“I’ll get it for you Mr. Jones.”
“Do you have a box, maybe something Styrofoam for me to carry it?”
“Sure.” The assistant manager returned with a Styrofoam box, a picture of a red stone crab on the side. O’Brien lifted the top.
“The claws are banded.”
“Yeah, most people like it that way. A stone crab can take a finger off. It’s got the most powerful claws of any crab in this part of the world. Almost two-thousand pounds of pressure per square inch.”
“Good, could you cut the bands off?”
“Sure. The man got a pair of scissors and cut the rubber bands off the two massive front claws. “Don’t leave him in the box too long, he’ll cut right through.”
“Thanks.” O’Brien paid and walked back to the Jeep.
Barbie watched O’Brien approach and asked, “Did you get anything to drink, maybe a Coke or something?”
“Barbie, do you like sushi?”
She wrinkled her nose. “No way am I eating any raw fish.”
“Then you wouldn’t like raw crab,” O’Brien set the box between the seats.
“How raw do they serve it?” she asked, picking up the box.
“If you open that, I’ll call you Pandora.”
“That’s a pretty name,” she said lifting the top off. “Ohmygod! That’s a live crab! He’s huge!” She slammed the top back on the box. O’Brien started the engine.
She said, “Why do you have a crab in a box?”
“It’s going into a purse next.”
She looked at her small purse, shook her head. “No way! That ugly thing is not going in my purse.”
“Not yours, the one in back. Would you mind getting it? Should be on the floorboard.”
She turned and reached in the back. “This is heavy. What do you have in here?”
“Open it,” said O’Brien.
“I’m almost afraid to. Do you have a snake in this one?” Barbie slowly opened the purse and looked inside. “Are you some kind sick person? What are these handcuffs and this tape recorder doing in a purse?”
