Once inside, one's eyes are dazzled by the very upbeat, contemporary decor, the simple elegance of black and red. If any of The Pink Flamingo's former customers ever set foot in this place they wouldn't recognize it. Oh, the stage, runway, and bar are still there, but changes had to be made. Shiny silvery poles now grace the stage and runway at regular intervals; the latter now splits into three sections, winding its way around the "choice" seating. Both stage and runway are lined with alternating white and red light. The old black velvet curtain is no more; there is now one of shimmering black silk moire.
The gracefully curving bar, with its glistening black lacquer and chrome trim, reflected the massive collection of glittering glassware suspended above. It also had been completely redone, taking up nearly the entire south end No pink tablecloths and richly upholstered pink velvet chairs here. Tables are now red and black formica-topped; the ultra-modern cupped chairs followed the same color scheme.
Where is the bandstand? There is no band. The current owner, convinced that live musicians would cost too much, instead installed a state-of-the-art sound system. The DJ spins tunes in a booth situated on the opposite end of the club, across from the bar, far above the stage and main floor.
The return to elegance and class, that's what the present owner, David Tyler, said when he bought the dilapidated Pink Flamingo years ago. It was during a neighborhood revitalization, when ambitious young professionals moved back into the city. At first, David was leery of opening a strip club in an area that now boasted art galleries, coffee bars, trendy antique shops and clothiers, two avant-garde theaters, and dozens of hot nightspots.
When he bought the old burlesque house, David considered transforming it into a rock club. However, with his money tight and having a hard time booking quality, top-drawer acts, David took a cue from Pink Flamingo's former owner. In fact, David took it upon himself to visit the man and ask his advice.
Charlie Watson, now in his late eighties and spending his declining years in a retirement home, suggested, "Why not transform it, revitalize it, into the high class house of burlesque it once was. You'd be guaranteed a loyal clientele, what with the art of burlesque making a comeback. You could offer the folks something different than what the sleazier strip joints pass as 'entertainment'."
David took those words to heart then set out to make the dream of Infrared a reality.
Charlie also told David, "Be sure to hire nice girls, girls with real talent and creativity. Be good to them, too. I know what goes in these new clubs and they don't treat their girls too good. Pay them decent, let them do their thing and have fun, and don't let stuff bog down into something nasty and dirty. This is art we're talking, not pornography."
******
In his elegant yet efficiently appointed offices upstairs, David Tyler spent all morning and afternoon fine tuning tonight's acts. There were music selections to go over with Fred, the DJ. New liquor shipments had to be unpacked and shelved; new menu items had to be approved. Utilities had to paid. Inspectors from the health department had to check out the kitchen facilities. It was a neverending task running a successful business but David took it all in stride, and he had to thank a certain lady he hired a few years ago.
When the club was in its infancy, David took great pains to hire quality performers. No way would he hire hookers, druggies, or skanks. No! His ladies had to be just that: Ladies. He banned lap dances since they were illegal in this town anyway. It was just good clean striptease with modern twists, nothing vulgar or sleazy. If customers didn't like what they saw, they could leave, simple as that.
Despite David's tight rein on "elegant decadence" as Maris termed it, the customers kept coming, and they brought their friends. Word of mouth traveled fast; as a result, Infrared became the hottest, most talked about house of burlesque in town.
******
Edy Smith...
The name and face stuck in David's mind as he totaled last night's receipts. When Edy came in to interview for a dancer position, she was at a low point in her life. She needed a job quickly as she had mounds of bills to pay and faced near-eviction.
What struck David was Edy's background. Usually his performers were single women with little or no marketable job skills, but possessed great looks and quirky talents that lent so well to burlesque.
When Edy responded to the "Dancers Wanted" ad in In-Town, the free community news weekly, she insisted she never considered burlesque as a career, but she could still dance expertly and needed a job badly. David was even more intrigued when Edy told him she had lost her previous job as an accompanist in a nearby high school.
"The school system cut the music budget," she explained. "So I, being last hired, was the first fired."
Even more intrigued he was when he learned of Edy's life history. He made it his point to learn about his employees, no matter how boring their lives seemed to be.
Edy was a product of a biracial relationship. Her maternal grandparents initially didn't approve of their daughter dating a black man; neither did his parents approve of their son dating a white woman. However, Edy's birth, and the presence of this sweet-tempered, beautiful child, softened their prejudices.
When her parents died in a car crash, ten-year old Edith Smith lived with her maternal aunt and uncle. She possessed natural musical and dancing talent, and that talent was nurtured by caring relatives. Edy took up ballet, tap, piano, and violin at an early age, becoming, what Aunt May said, "A budding star in the likes of Issac Stern, Anna Pavlova, and Arthur Rubenstein all rolled into one."
During her high school years, Edy abandoned dance for music, concentrating on piano and violin, both of which she still played with fiery virtuosity.
"Why did you quit your music? Why turn to burlesque?," David asked her during the interview.
"I really never abandoned my music, but I had some serious issues in college," she simply replied, not wanting to elaborate. But David, once he hired Edy on a whim, soon discovered what those issues were, then took Edy under his wing, encouraging her in her new venture.
In a way, he was glad he hired Edy, judging from her first night performing. She was a bit nervous on her first night, opting to dance in Infrared's famed chorus before David persuaded her to go solo.
That first solo performance was something he'd never forget. The routine, the choice of music, Edy's seemingly natural style and warm rapport with the audience, attested that she was destined for things far greater.
During her premiere, very creative, striptease, David felt strangely drawn to the lovely lady of twenty-four summers. Within a few weeks' span he and Edy became quite close – friends at first then ultimately becoming lovers as the years progressed. The special bond they shared proved more than a bit unsettling for a few people.
******
"David? Hey, what's with the daydreaming?"
Interrupted by Maris' voice calling to him, David quickly regrouped and focused on his chief bartender. Maris Benton, forty-five, petite, dishwater blonde, gray-eyed, was one of David's "social work projects." back when Infrared was in its infancy. A former exotic dancer working in one of the sleazier strip joints, an aging Maris could no longer perform. Old strippers are not exactly what the customers want, at least that's what the manager of the last club she worked told her when she turned thirty.
With few job prospects, Maris slid into the abyss of drugs, booze, and hooking. Looking a bit older her age – the hard life took its toll – Maris was literally living on the streets when David offered her a job. He knew of her circumstances; Charlie told him all about Maris' special case. So he gave her a job as chief bartender and bookkeeper.
Maris was always quite close to Infrared's performers, often acting as earth mother to the girls. So many times she would counsel the girls in matters of responsible personal behavior. "Stay away from booze, dope, and those scumbag men who just want to use you," she'd say. When David hired Edy, Maris quickly detected something that went beyond the ordinary.
"She's our star stripper now, but she really should move on to bigger things," Maris told David as she poured coffee for herself. "I mean, have you heard her play? She's fantastic. Why she keeps working here I'll never know."
"I know that, Maris," replied David, "but she enjoys what she's doing. Besides, maybe after next weekend..."
"And what's so special about next weekend?"
"Let's just say someone will happen to audition Edy Smith the concert violinist, not Vivienne Va'Voom the stripper."
Taking a deep breath and nearly ignoring the young man about to enter the office, David continued. "I want the best for Edy, I really do. I love Edy, Maris, so much that I'm willing to..."
David allowed his voice to trail off when he finally caught the eye of the young man still standing in the doorway.
"Yes? May I help you?," he asked.
The man only smiled, walked up to David, handed him some papers, saying, "David Tyler. These are for you. Have a nice day." That was it; the man completed his task then left.
"What is it, David?," Maris asked.
David opened the bundle, scanned the words, then flatly replied, "It's Amy. She's contesting the divorce. Damn it! Why is she playing these games? It was to be a quick, clean break. No mudslinging, no pain..."
An unearthly light glowed in Maris' eyes; her face hardened as she said, "You think she knows about you and Edy?"
David glared at the paper, saying in a decidely angry voice, "Think she knows? She knows! That's what's in this paper. She's naming – Oh my God! – Edith Smith as correspondent. Oh, damn it all to Hell!"
All Maris could do was stay by David and comfort him as he verbally tore apart his estranged wife. She couldn't quite figure it out. Amy Tyler didn't care about whether David had a mistress. All she wanted was a quickie divorce and get on with her life. So why drag Edy's good name into this mess? Maybe it's for the publicity; maybe it's to make a point. For what? Amy never outright complained about David's business, in fact she could care less. Besides, as David told me earlier, his and Amy's marriage was over long ago. Maris pondered all the real reasons why Amy would contest the divorce.
"There's something else wrong here, Dave," Maris voiced at last. "I think Amy's lawyers talked her into doing something she might regret. Maybe she thinks she can pull Edy down, you know, paint that sweet girl as a gold digging homewrecker. And no telling what she'd do to your reputation, you as owner of a house of burlesque. The press would eat you and Edy alive."
David didn't want to believe Amy would go to such extremes, but there was nothing to do about it now. He had a show to put on tonight, and Edy was to reprise her premiere routine by popular demand.
In the morning, David would consult with his attorney. Perhaps, he thought, he could get some pertinent answers to his wife's recent legal wranglings. In the end, and he wished things had gone differently, he and Edy would get the shock of their lives.
TO BE CONTINUED...To Chapter 3!
Copyright © 2003 by Pepper Shriver*. All Rights Reserved.
*My pen name