I don’t have a lot of experience with strip clubs. It would be unusual if I did, since I’m neither a person who would patronize or perform at one. They sometimes have wrestling shows at strip clubs but that’s the one kind of show that I avoid studiously. I’ve heard bad things.
I thought that a strip club on a Monday afternoon would be a sad affair. I wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t as sad as I thought either. It was a couple bored looking women in shorty robes sitting around looking at their phones. There was one woman on stage that wasn’t dancing as much she was bickering topless with the one customer in there.
That customer was Phillip. When Gary and I came over the woman on stage said “you can stay with them tonight asshole!” and clomped off on her torture device shoes. They had heels but they were also gladiator sandals. I have no idea how you wear something like that and walk.
With very little prompting, or even asking who we were, Phillip broke down and said that his brother was dead because of him. After getting out of prison Phillip couldn’t work as a veterinarian anymore so he got a job working for a cattle ranch. This gave him a access to his old veterinarian pals who helped him to continue his true passion. Selling cat medicine to people so they can get high.
One of these deals got screwed up and Phillip ended up owing a lot of money to a guy you don’t want to owe money to. The brother set up a meeting with that guy to make an arrangement to pay off Phillip’s debt. Next thing Phil knows his brother is dead. So he does what anyone would do, he runs away from his parents’ house to beg his stripper “kind of” girlfriend to hide him.
Problem solved right? Call the cops and Phillip spills his guts and we’re done – murder solved. Only he wouldn’t do it. I thought he was just being an asshole. As a high powered businessman, I figured Gary was good at talking people into things against their own interest so I had him try to work on Phil. They both ended up crying like damn babies about how awful they were. While getting lap dances. There’s something very disturbing about tears on tits.
I got Jenny Dreadful on speaker phone to shame Phil into doing the right thing, but her haranguing just made him cry more. He talked about killing himself too! Since when did I become a mobile suicide prevention concierge? Eventually I gave up and said I’d call the police and turn them on to whoever killed the brother if Phil would just give me a name. He started freaking out (more) and saying that I couldn’t do that because he was “protected”.
When I asked him what this meant he refused to say anymore. I admit at this point I lost my temper. I got my arm around this neck and punched him in the ribs a couple times. Which resulted in us getting tossed out of Tassels. I’m surprise it took that long.
I’m not proud of it, but I probably would have kept on beating up Philip if Kandy Kane (that’s the stripper sort of GF he was arguing with) hadn’t come out to beg me not to. I asked her what “protected” meant. Organized crime? Corrupt cops? What other kind of protection could a veterinarian drug dealer have?
She didn’t know but she cradled Phil like six year old and made soothing noises, encouraging him to spill it. He still wouldn’t, he said that if he told us we’d think he was crazy. I told him I can handle crazy.
He looked at me like someone who’s grave had just been walked over, eyes wide like an owl, and said –
“Nobody can touch him because he’s a vampire.”
Rocket Cat 