pocket, palms so wet the paper was soft, no idea what denomination. The girl laid the change on the table, tapping her foot for the dollar tip Kara threw at her.
She watched herself half-heartedly twirl on the pole, backbend near the guy eating cheese fries.
Kara was too lightheaded to trip up to the bar until midway through the next act. “The last girl who was on, where is she?”
Bartender smirked as he shook one of the taps. “Why? You want a private dance?”
“No, I want to talk to her. What’s her name?”
“Tammi. I can go back there, but she ain’t comin’ out unless it’s for a private dance.”
“I want a dance.”
“It’ll be thirty.”
“Sure, fine. Just get her.”
The bartender heaved away from the bar, wishing he’d told her it cost more and split the difference with Tam. Intentionally talked to every person on his way there-anecdote to the bouncer, nudge and wink to the waitress serving chicken tenders to a guy wearing sunglasses on the other side of the stage.
Kara’s hands were shaking so badly it took three tries to light one cigarette off the other. Finally, Kaya strolled out and gave Kara a disinterested once-over, looked through her. “Follow me.”
She led Kara, who stared at the way Kaya’s green and yellow butterfly tattoo near her shoulder blade moved as she walked, to the furthest corner of the club. Did Kara’s skin sting thousands of miles away at the same moment the needle was put to Kaya’s flesh? So many questions and Kara couldn’t think of any that were important. Kaya peeled back a sheer black curtain with gold thread, revealing a small plastic and mirror booth with a black pleather bench.
She sat Kara down, adjusted the wig in the mirror behind the bench. “Thirty.”
Instead of grabbing Kaya and telling her who she was, Kara reached into her wallet and peeled off two fives and a twenty. She had to do this right, only as much information as Kaya’d be able to handle at once, couldn’t scare her off. Maybe when Kaya started to dance, she would give Kara more than a glance, and see.
Kaya shuffled as little as possible, chest hovering six or seven inches over Kara’s face as she swayed her hips and looked at herself in the mirror, yawning. Every movement was perfect and Kara was complete.
“I bet you don’t even know how beautiful you are.”
“Thanks.”
“Did you have chicken pox when you were seven too?”
“Huh?”
“Forget that.” Kara couldn’t restrain, put her hand on Kaya’s wrist. “Stop.”
Kaya broke her bored facade and glared. “No touching.”
“I’m sorry. Please, I need to talk to you.”
Kaya still didn’t recognize her (light in the booth was terrible), instead shrugged and sat down, picked at her cuticles. “Can I bum a smoke?”
“Yeah, sure.” Kara handed them over. She even lit her cigarette the same way, protecting the flame when it wasn’t necessary. “Don’t you see a resemblance?”
“To what?”
“To me.”
Kaya really looked at her then, but not with the expression Kara was hoping for. Instead, confusion with disgust at the edges. “You think we’re related, a cousin or something?”
So many years imagining the reunion, but never pictured this. Kara played different scenarios in her mind before she went to bed until it was the only thing that could lull her to sleep. In all, Kaya recognized her instantly. She was some executive who Kara found through a magazine feature on exceptional women in business. Or homeless… or possibly a suburban housewife settled into some homogenous berg that Kara passed through when she took a wrong turn on the highway.
“You’re my twin, don’t you see it? You were kidnapped when we were young, but now things are okay because we’re together now. We can leave, you never have to work here again.”
Kaya ground her cigarette into the burnt carpet with the heel of her stiletto. “I don’t know who you are, or what kind of sick fantasy you have, but we’re not twins and I was never kidnapped.”
“Just answer me this, what do you remember before you were four?”
“I fucking told you not to touch me. You’re nuts.” Kaya stormed out, wadding up the money and throwing it at Kara’s chest.
Stereotypical bouncer, big neck and small head, came tanking through the club, eyes on fire as he grabbed Kara roughly on the arm and pulled her up. “Time for you to go.”
She knew better than to argue and stood. His grip didn’t loosen when he realized Kara wasn’t going to fight back, shoved her to the double doors.
“Don’t come back.”
In the parking lot, everything was the same. How could it be, when her world was inside out? She checked her watch. Time had stopped inside, couldn’t have only been twenty minutes. On her way back to the motel, when it became so obvious, Kara wanted to slap her forehead. Stupid, did she think Kaya could let her guard down in that kind of place? She had to talk to her away from there.
Kara double-timed until she reached her rental car in the motel’s lot, straight back to the club. She parked in the back corner, eyes fixed on the entrance, scared to blink; slid down into the seat whenever the doors opened, so just the top of her head was visible. If the bouncer saw her, he’d kick her off the lot or worse, call the cops, and then Kara might never find Kaya again.
Kara knew that once she got a chance to sit Kaya down with no distraction, she’d see that they were twins (soul mates), and would be grateful for rescuing Kaya from this; never want to leave Kara’s side. Everything that was hers was her sister’s too. They could travel, or buy houses next to each other, a hallway built connecting the two.
Hours passed, sky evolved to a darker gray, then black. Her stomach rumbled and legs got numb, but she didn’t notice.
Finally, a shift change, and Kara didn’t care anymore if she was seen. Kaya was one of the last to leave, angelic in street clothes and no makeup to hide the rose in her cheeks. She fumbled with her keys, got into an old Charger. Out of the cars in the lot, Kara didn’t figure that one, guessed the economical Honda or the white and red T-Bird. There was a lot to catch up on.
Kara counted to thirty after Kaya pulled out before starting the ignition. It didn’t matter if cars got between, Kara could see her sister through them.
Kaya pulled into the driveway of a light green and yellow house on the dubiously named Failing Street. Not far from the motel, would’ve met anyway, it was meant to be. Kara parked across the street, under a wide willow, watching as her sister went in and lights turned on in succession.
Kara chain-smoked the rest of her pack before she worked up the nerve. Now or never, as she threw the last butt into the street, couldn’t sit here all night. Deep breath and she walked up the porch steps. Knocked and rang the bell, did it again to be sure.
When Kaya threw the door open, Kara saw how much more breathtaking she was up close, dyed bright auburn hair (must have had it straightened). Barefoot, wearing pink yoga pants and a tank top, smoking, Kaya was more elegant than any Renaissance painting or Greek statue. Split second before she recognized Kara. “You. How the fuck did you find out where I live?”
“I followed you.”
“You’re crazy. I’m calling the police.”
Combination of panic and the adrenaline, Kara put her hand on the door and leaned into it. “Please, hear me out.”
Kaya sucked on her cigarette. “You’re not going to leave me alone until I do.”
