You're Busting My Nuptials (Tizzy/Ridge Trilogy Book 2) (6 page)

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“He’s offered two-hundred bucks. That ain’t bad for ten minutes work and since you’re not employed here yet, you get to keep all the money. Whataya say?”

“Two-hundred to lap dance one of these clowns?”

Three-D smiled and held up two crisp Benjamin’s.

“Sure, why not. Ten minutes. Which one is he?” She stashed the cash in her bra.

Three-D pointed to Jinx.

Tizzy and Rayann broke into laughter.

Jinx crooked his finger for Synola to come closer.

“No damn way,” Synola said.

“Too late, Cupcake. You already accepted the moo-la. So, c’mon, show me what you got,” Jinx said.

Synola walked over to him and straddled his lap. “I will get you for this if it’s the last thing I do.”

Clown Billy Bob dangled three one hundred dollar bills in front of Tizzy.

She spun around to face him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Billy Bob flashed a big toothy clown smile. “I double-dog-dare you.”

Back in the car, Tizzy was unable to hide her disgust. “Okay, I’m done with the part-time-stripper-looking-for-work-cover. I think we need a new approach. I’m not going to run the risk of getting on stage at every strip joint we check out. That was horrible.”

While they waited for Jinx, Synola and Rayann counted their money.

“What are you talking about?” Synola asked. “I made two hundred and sixty-two dollars for thirty minutes work. How much do you have, Rayann?”

“Only twenty-six dollars. I couldn’t bring myself to get close to the clowns to pick up the cash. Plus, you got two hundred bucks from Jinx.”

Synola scrunched up her face. “Yeah, about that. What’s wrong with him?”

“What do you mean?” Tizzy asked.

“During my lap dance . . . he didn’t get . . . you know, excited.”

Rayann gasped. “He didn’t? Oh my God. Are you sure?”

“Really, Rayann? I can tell when a man’s excited and I got nuthin’ from him.”

“He has self-control,” Tizzy said.

“Honey, the way I was grinding against him, I’ve never seen a man with
that
much control. He’s gotta have a problem.”

Tizzy laughed out loud. “He’s trained to control his bodily functions. He can lower his heart-rate and regulate his breathing. He can probably stop himself from getting an erection, most likely to piss you off.”

“What kind of training are you talking about?”

“He’s a sniper with Special Forces, or at least he was. I think he’s left the military. With everything going on, I haven’t had a chance to talk him. You like him, don’t you?”

“Hell no, I don’t. I think he’s a horse’s ass.”

“Sure you do,” Rayann said. “If I remember correctly, someone else in this car thought a certain man was a horse’s hiney when she first met him. Now he’s the reason we’re on this little outing.”

“Yeah,” Tizzy said. “At the next club, I’ll give them my sad story about being left at the altar. I’ll tell them I think Ridge ran off with a stripper and I’m looking for her. That should get me some sympathy and some answers.”

Jinx opened the door, and climbed in. “Find out anything useful?”

Tizzy took a deep breath. “Tawny, the waitress, warned me not to be asking so many questions.”

“Yeah, well, I tried to listen in on the dad-and-son’s conversation and a couple of calls Double D made, but couldn’t hear anything. So, I guess we’re on to the next club. By the end of the evening, you girls should be dancing like pros.”

Tizzy shook her head. “We’re changing our story. I don’t want to dance again.”

A smile twitched at the corners of Jinx’s mouth. “I enjoyed
it. Especially the lap dance.”

Synola lowered her head and rolled her eyes up. “Really? I couldn’t tell.”

His smile spread.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at Show and Tail. The billboard out front read, Appearing One Night Only:
Adelle Doe and Anita Dick.

Tizzy hung her head.
“Oh dear Lord.”

Rayann giggled. “While I searched for our stage names I saw another crazy one.
Dixie Normus.
Isn’t that funny?”

“Hysterical.” Under normal conditions Tizzy would be laughing, but being left at the altar had taken the J out of joy for her.

“I don’t know what’s got into you, Tizzy. You’re no fun tonight.”

“Gee, Rayann let me think. Oh.” She hit the palm of her hand to her head. “Now I remember. Ridge is in trouble, and it’s taking everything I have to hold myself together.” Tizzy pressed two fingers to the corners of her eyes. She wasn’t about to let herself cry.

Jinx leaned forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. “You’re doing all you can. It’s getting late, so after this, we’ll call it a night.”

Tizzy faced Rayann. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“No, I’m sorry. Jinx is right. We’ll find Ridge.”

“We won’t stop until we do. Now, let’s go in there and check out Dildo and Dick,” Synola said.

Show and Tail was more upscale than Double D’s, with lots of chrome details against a backdrop of black. A chesty redhead, a few years past her prime, tended the mahogany bar swirling a cloth across the black marble counter. She wore a low cut, well fitted black tank top with the joints’ logo spelled out in sliver glitter. Tizzy decided the shapely woman, at one time, probably headlined the place.

The three women all plopped down on black leather stools in front of the barmaid.

“Whatchoo girls drinking?”

“Give us three shots of tequila,” Tizzy said.

The bartender poured and set the drinks, salt shaker, and a small bowl of limes in front of each of them. “You girls looking for someone?”

“What makes you think so?” Synola asked.

“Oh, Hon, I’ve been in this business a long time. I’m pretty damn good at reading people.”

“Really? What’s your take on us?”

The redhead stepped back and studied them for a few seconds, then relaxed her shoulders. “I’d say one of ‘ya has man trouble and you’re here to catch him in a strip club.” She tilted her head from side to side, then pointed at Tizzy. “I’m guessing . . . it’s you.”

“Why do you think it’s me?”

“You got the look, Sweetie. No matter how hard you try to hide it, the pain is right there in your eyes. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yeah. I’m looking for a stripper,” Tizzy said, and gave her the description.

“Pretty general, but look around, you may spot her. Dancers come and go like Tiger Woods with a mistress.”

Jinx bellied up to the bar and chesty glanced over at him. “Hey, good-looking, what can I get for you?”

Jinx flashed his best smile and tilted his head to read her name tag. “I’ll have a beer. Whatever you have on tap, Fran.”

The roar of the crowd gained the groups’ attention. They all turned toward the stage as Adelle Doe was introduced.

She glided on stage holding two five-foot pink Ostrich feather fans, while in the background, the vintage musical number,
You Made Me Love You
played. She performed a series of non-revealing movements. Holding both fans in one hand, she created a feather skirt and used her other hand to untie the strings of her halter top. In one smooth flourish, she discarded the top and flipped a fan up to hide her bare breasts. The crowd moaned.

Tizzy didn
’t know whether the music or the provocative swing of the feathers caused it, but she became mesmerized by the dance. The hypnotic effect, for the first time since being left at the altar, relaxed her.

She swallowed hard and tried to push all the images of Ridge from her mind. The way his hands explored her body. His lips on her skin. His arms warm and strong around her.

A cheer from the crowd shook her out of her daydream.

Adelle moved both fans in front of her breasts and untied one side of her string bikini, then the other. In the nick of time, she swung the feathers to hide all she’d uncovered. When she turned her back to the mob, the props found a new position. One in front and one behind her. She sidestepped to the edge of the stage, turned to face the room full of men, and for a split second, curled the feathers outward, giving a peek of everything she had.

Tizzy never witnessed men go so wild over seeing so little. Adelle was magic.

“Hey, pretty ladies,” a man said, wedging his body between Tizzy and Synola.

Tizzy turned her head around to face him. “Hello,” she said, frost in her voice.

Another man fell in behind him, and stuck his hand out to Tizzy. “Hi, I’m Richard and this is Harrison.
Could we buy you ladies a drink?”

Ignoring his gesture, Tizzy started to
answer, but Synola cut her off. “Sure you can. We’re drinking tequila.”

Harrison, rounder and shorter than Richard, appeared to be about forty, with brown hair and brown eyes. Both men wore jeans, plaid western shirts and cowboy boots.

“We’d sure like for y’all to join us at our table,” Richard said, his blue eyes showing more enthusiasm than Tizzy liked.

She knew his type. She dealt with them all the time in her dad’s bar. Forty-year-old divorced men, on the fast-track to middle age, struggling with child support payments and a bitchy ex-wife.
No thank-you.

Before Tizzy could get rid of them, Synola struck up a conversation.
“Well, that’s real sweet of y’all, but we’re not staying long. Tell me, what do you do for a living, Richard?” Synola batted her eyes at him.

Richard whipped out a business card, and handed it to her. She read aloud. “
When Nature Calls, Inc., owners, Richard Rash and Harrison Ball.”

“What kind of business is that?” Rayann asked.

“Port-o-potties,” Harrison said, and added. “Call us because we give a crap.”

He and Richard laughed.

Then Richard said, “Yeah, we do our business, after you do yours.”

Harrison slapped him on the back and they laughed again.

Then Harrison said, “So, if you need a port-o-potty, you’re in luck. Get it,
urine
luck.”

Tizzy frowned. “That’s not funny. Wait a minute, you own a port-o-potty company and your names are Dick Rash and Harry Ball?”

Dick and Harry didn’t laugh. Tizzy, Synola, and Rayann did.

Bartender Fran stepped in front of Tizzy. “I just thought of something. The old DQ in Athens has pictures of all the strippers they’ve ever employed. If the girl you’re looking for ever danced there, they should have a photo of her.”

The next morning, with the effects of the tequila worn off and Dick and Harry nothing but a bad memory, Tizzy took her morning jog. She squinted against the morning light filtering through the trees and wished she’d taken the time to get her sunglasses. At least she’d been smart enough to choose her thermal jogging tights.

The course she chose for her daily run took her past the high school. It held wonderful memories of football games, prom, and graduation. A little farther up the road, she turned through a residential area. The houses were older, with tidy front yards and covered porches. She reminded herself this was home and nothing would ever change that. If Ridge never came back, or if she never found him, she would always have this.

The thought made her heart feel like a stone in her chest. Her lungs worked for breath from the exercise, but her heart ached from the possibility of never seeing him again. As much as she tried to deny it, that was possible.

She shook the notion from her head and thought about her next move. The discovery of the local city ordinance preventing Dairy ‘ere Queens from opening on Sundays had been a disappointment.

She turned the corner, headed toward the cemetery, and heard footsteps in the distance behind her. In all the years she’d been using this route, she’d never seen another runner. Most joggers avoided running through the graveyard and used the high school track course.

For the last half mile she’d been caught up in her thoughts. But now she paid attention and wondered how long they’d been back there. The hairs on her arms began to rise. She reached inside the pocket of her black hoodie and pulled out the small can of pepper spray.
Stay calm,
she told herself.
Nice try,
her brain responded.

Her grip tightened around the cylinder. She could hear the pace getting closer. Her heart slammed against her chest, not from the workout, but fear. A straight stretch of road with few trees was just ahead and she
’d make her move.

The runner huffed and puffed and the slap of running shoes against the pavement moved even closer.
Get ready, Tizzy.
She glanced down at the nozzle and positioned her finger on the valve. When she reached the break in the trees, she spun around and thrust the can out in front of her. “GET BACK OR I’LL CUT YOUR BALLS OFF!”