The Deer

The Deer

by Sam Ford




Susannah was a dancer at Cable’s Topless Bar & Steakhouse just off of I-75 in Dayton. She lived in an apartment in Trotwood, which she paid $375 a month for. It took her about twenty-five minutes to get to work in her 2004 Nissan Maxima. She was 19 years-old and seriously considering a move out west to Vegas or Los Angeles.

Saturday night at Cable’s was the big night. The night when the local boys came out and hammered away at their Sunday mornings. Hundreds of dollar bills in their pockets, their faces glistening with aftershave. The truckers pulled in from off the interstate. The university kids. The high school kids with the good fakes. Some ordered a Cable Burger (bacon, onion, mushrooms, cheddar) with mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese on the side. Some ordered bottles of champagne and never took their sunglasses off. Some sipped their beers and tried not to stick out. Some took off their wedding rings. Some tried to take the party home with them. All were lonesome. Some even knew it.

Every Saturday, Cable’s had a featured dancer who had two shows to herself – one at 9 PM and one at 11 PM. Other than that, Cable’s runway usually had at least three dancers on it at all times. There were seats surrounding the stage where men (and the occasional woman) could sit and watch up close. Perhaps slide a dollar or two into the thong of the girl they fancied. Just beyond the runway were larger tables where groups could sit and watch the dancers and maybe enjoy a nice meal (although appetizers could be ordered at the runway as well). The menu consisted mostly of standard American cuisine – steaks and burgers, pasta, individual pizzas with a variety of toppings, chicken wings, mozzarella sticks, club sandwiches, etc. The cook’s name was Santiago. He had a long, thin mustache, steel-toed boots, and often bragged of wearing no underpants. Susannah thought that if the patrons could get a look at Santiago they might think twice about ordering something from him. He had a habit of flicking his tongue at the dancers as they moved past the kitchen, which had no door and was located just across from their dressing room

Boomis was the Saturday manager, a pale, heavyset man in his late 40’s. He wore a large-brimmed felt Bailey cowboy hat and a bolo tie he bought online from a discount Native American jewelry store. He had thick, hairy fingers and affected a deep Texas accent even though he was from Cleveland. His goatee was neatly trimmed and his Old Spice scent was palpable. He ate his ribeye with french fries every Saturday at 10 PM. The girls considered him one of the better managers. Fair for the most part. A pretty good sense of humor. Hardly ever crossed the line.

Susannah had never been a featured dancer in her eight months at Cable’s. She was quietly gunning for a featured spot. The money was better. You got your name on the marquee. Sometimes a correspondent from Hustler or Penthouse might come by to check you out. One girl had even been on Howard Stern. Susannah believed she had what it took. She was slim, had good skin. Even though she had contemplated implants since she was in high school, she decided that the market for natural breasts was large enough for her to be successful. She had her heart set on a vast pictorial career and definitely some movie work. She was pretty sure she didn’t want to go into hardcore, but was definitely game for some late-night cable.

At about 8:15 she was in the dressing room getting ready to go on stage with two other girls, Sadie and Nadine. They were each fixing their make-up, costumes. Nadine, who liked to wear wigs, was choosing between a blond perm and a neon blue bob. She held up the latter at Sadie who laughed.

Susannah was wearing her trademark Hanes sleeveless undershirt and boy’s briefs. Some men it did nothing for, but those it worked for couldn’t get enough of it. Once a fellow had told her that it “made him feel like she’d spent the night.” Susannah wore it well. A little shift in her hips, her arms long and relaxed across her body. When it was time for the tanktop to come off, she removed it like she was in a movie. Men often didn’t cheer for Susannah. They were too busy trying to catch their breath.

“Yo, Suzie,” Nadine said. “Blue or blonde?”

“I like that blue,” Susannah said.

“It reminds me of a smurf,” Sadie said. “Papa fuckin’ smurf. Go ahead and wear that shit. I’ll be gettin’ yer money.”

“Fuck you, Sam,” Nadine said, grinning. “There’re some freaky fuckers out there. They love the blue.”

“Blue fuckers,” Sadie said.

The three of them laughed.

Boomis never bothered to knock before he entered. When the door flew open he was standing there with a sour apple blow-pop in his mouth.

“Cooking tonight, motherfuckers,” he said. “Already cleared five, it ain’t even ten o’clock yet. Christ I love Saturdays. The dumbest boners you ever seen all in one room.” He took a savage lick of his lollipop and grunted. “Ya’ll been dancin’ up a storm tonight. So keep it up, right? Blue their balls.”

He winked at them and shut the door.

“Fuckin’ coke fiend,” Sadie mumbled. “Coach Coke Fiend.”

Two other girls returned to the dressing room – Silver, and Gina-Raye.

“Terry’s still out there,” Gina-Raye said. “Ya’ll had better scoot.”

Susannah, Nadine, and Sadie left the dressing room. Nadine was wearing the blonde wig.

On the way to the runway Susannah glanced over at Santiago. He was cooking a t-bone, a Lucky Strike dangling between his lips.

The three girls stood at the backstage area behind the runway. They were separated by a rhinestone curtain. After a moment, Terry came pouring through the beads completely naked, save her black lace g-string stuffed with cash. She had a broad smile on her face.

“Kill ‘em,” she said as she pushed past the girls.

Susannah heard Buddy the DJ’s voice over the loudspeaker:

“And now ladies and mostly gentleman, the party doesn’t stop! Let’s give a warm welcome back to the runway, the lovely Miss Nadine, Sadie, and Susannah!”

The three of them crossed through the curtain. The lights were like desert suns. Nadine spotted one of her regulars sitting at the front of the runway. She undid three buttons on her little western shirt and moved toward him. Sadie made for one of the three poles that were fixed throughout the center of the stage. Susannah took her time and moved slowly across the platform. She fingered at the hem of her tanktop teasingly. Then she ran a hand through her hair and put her index finger in her mouth. She could see silhouettes of men through the mad glow of lights. She approached them.

At the edge of the platform, she squatted down like a catcher, her forearms resting against her legs, her wrists dangling over her thighs. A man with thin red hair and thick, metal-rimmed glasses was staring at her. She spread herself open in front of her. He admired her soft, milk-white skin with a trace of embarrassment. He had a mustache. The rest of his face was raw with razor-burn. He was wearing a light blue short-sleeve button-down shirt from a catalogue. Khaki pants he bought in the same phone-call. Susannah gave him her profile. She ran her fingers across her neck. The nails left red marks. Everything was on purpose.

“You are so beautiful,” she heard him whisper.

His vocal chords cracked. She watched him shift in his seat. The buffalo wings in front of him were getting cold. The blue cheese sauce was getting warm. He took off his glasses and laid them next to the basket of wings and bones. Susannah figured him for late 30’s.

“My name’s Mike,” he said almost to himself.

“Hi, Mike,” Susannah said, achingly. “Do you want me to take my shirt off?”

“Oh god, yes,” Mike said. “Oh god, please. Oh god.”

Susannah let her knees hit the stage. She arched her back in front of Mike. She pulled her tanktop off like she was shedding her skin.

“Fuck yeah!” the man next to Mike barked.

“Please!” Mike snapped sideways at the man. Then he softened and turned back to Susannah. “Please.”

Susannah turned her body and angled her hip toward Mike. She felt him nervously slide a ten into her underpants.

“I’ll see you later, Mike,” she said.

Mike wiped beneath his eyes with the back of his hand and took a sip of the Dr. Pepper he was drinking.

Susannah continued down the runway. She stole every eye in the place. Occasionally she used the poles. She knelt before the men and the men rewarded her. Sometimes she’d smile. Sometimes she’d pout. She showed them her ass. Her stomach. Her feet. Her jaw. She asked one man if he wanted to fuck her. She ignored another man. She danced with Nadine. She danced with Sadie. She crawled to the end of the runway. She let her spine rise and fall like an ocean.

She knew she was a star. She knew she could make men forget themselves. Lose their jobs. Leave their wives. Develop bad habits. Kill each other. She knew that some girls just danced and shook and winked. And she knew that she could break into men’s skulls and burrow into their minds. She knew they took her home with them. She knew she had fans.

“Let’s hear it for these three lovely ladies!” Buddy’s voice called out. “Once again, the lovely Susannah, Nadine, and Sadie. They are available for private dances as well. Don’t hesitate to ask.”

The three girls left the stage. Susannah tied her hair back in a ponytail once they were through the curtain. Boomis was there to meet them on the other side.”

“You motherfuckers were incredible,” he said. “Fuck ‘em all. We got the best gals state of Ohio, ain’t that it?”

He followed the girls back to the dressing room.

“Time for my supper, Santiago!” he called out over his shoulder.

“Suck me, maricon!” he heard Santiago reply.

“I swear to Jesus Christ our lord and savior, you fuckers are special. Special ladies you are.”

Nadine opened the door to the dressing room. It was a large room. There were nine other girls in there. Some were changing. Some were just hanging out. Boomis stepped inside and stood in the middle of all of them.

“It ain’t right we should have so much talent in this sombitch.” He took off his hat, wiped his brow with his shirtsleeve. “Christ, it’s hot in here, Jesus. Well. I’ll leave ya’ll to it. Five hundred straight for the champagne room tonight. Once in there it’s up to ya’ll. Two for a private. Make sure you come see me before you take just any john’s hand. And make goddamn sure you tell Glen or one of the other boys. For those a’ ya’ll don’t know. Some cocksucker put his hand on Riva’s hoo-ha last week. Bruised her up a bit. Covered her mouth, couldn’t scream. Glen’nt know about it. Boom. The sombitch got away with it. Warrant out for his arrest. Law says “fuck it, it’s a strip club.” Case closed. Moral the story is: tell one a’ the big guys before you disappear with john the lucky dickheart.”

“Is she okay?” one of the girls asked.

“Couldn’t say,” Boomis said. “Hospital she went. Hell, I think she went a’ spend some time with her family. Where? Maybe some a’ ya’ll know. It’s Saturday. We go late. Love ya’ll.”

Boomis scratched his inner thigh and left the dressing room.

“She went home to Akron,” Silver said. “I talked to her a few days ago. She’s doin’ okay. Just a bit shook up. But she’s planning to come back I think.”

Nadine walked up to Susannah. She had a towel around her neck and was drinking a bottle of water.

“Goddamn, Suzie,” she said.

Susannah smiled. “What?”

“I was gettin’ hot just watchin’ you.”

“I got bills to pay,” Susannah said.

“Yeah right,” Nadine chuckled.

The door opened again and Boomis was there.

“Suzie Q!” he yelped.

Susannah turned to face him. “Yeah?” she said.

“Come here, girl,” he said.

Susannah moved towards him. He tilted his hat up with his finger. He had a single silver tooth and he tongued at it.

“There’s a fella' out there what’s from California. Wants a word. Freshen up and come yer ass on out here.”

Susannah’s grin gave way to an unabashed smile. She jumped up and threw her arms around Boomis. He felt her bare breasts mash against his beer-gut.

“Easy now. Jesus. I’m probably your uncle.”

He walked out of there.

Susannah turned and went to her mirror. She threw on a turquoise one-piece and touched her lips with some Revlon Raspberry Mousse.

Once in the dining room she spotted Boomis sitting at the bar with a young black man in a three-piece suit. He was quite good-looking with long, clean dreadlocks and a muscular build. Boomis saw Susannah and waved her over. She could feel her dress hugging the cheeks of her ass as she moved toward them. Before she made it to bar she was intercepted. It was Mike. From the runway.

“Um, I’m sorry. Hi, I’m sorry. I’m Mike? I – I…met you earlier. I was sitting there. And uh…while you were dancing.”

“Hi,” Susannah said. She looked over Mike’s shoulder. Boomis was talking to the black man.

“I’ve never been to one of these places,” Mike said.

“Is that right?” Susannah said, sarcastically.

“No, I’m telling the truth. Seriously. I don’t really go to places like this.”

Susannah looked at him with a wry grin. She checked over his shoulder once more. Boomis was still talking to the black man.

“I’ve just been kinda’…lonely lately,” Mike continued. “Sorry I mean…that’s not really important.”

Susannah looked at him but said nothing. She threw her weight into her right foot. Her pelvis eased out to the left. She put her hands on her hips. The one-piece was cut just low enough to fuck a man’s head up. Mike’s eyes kept falling there. He had sweat stains under his arms. One of his sneakers was untied.

“Could it be possible to have a private dance with you?” Mike asked.

Susannah checked on Boomis one more time. He waved at her with the back of his hand as if to indicate that he wanted her to attend to business.

“I’d love to dance for you,” Susannah said. “Tell me your name one more time.”

“It’s Meeke. I mean – Mike…it’s Mike,” Mike said.

Susannah took his hand and led him towards a large door backlit in neon blue. Above the frame was the word “private”, glowing in the same color.

Mike’s mouth opened involuntarily. Beads of sweat were leaking out of his scalp.

“I really think that this is y’know…” Mike’s thought trailed off. His lips were chapped and he wiped his tongue across them like a paintbrush.

Behind the door, one of the bouncers, Fortress, was sitting in a stool eating a roast beef sandwich. He was 6 foot 4 and black, with big bloodshot eyes that rolled through his head like two world globes. He stood up as Susannah and Mike entered. He was guarding a long corridor with doors on either side. Each door was covered in a different artificial animal hide. Fortress squeaked out a small fart and glanced at Susannah and Mike to see if they noticed. It seemed they didn’t and he smiled and gave Susannah a hug.

“What the deal, Suzie?” he said.

“Hey, Fort,” Susannah said. “This is Mike. I’m gonna’ dance for him a little while.”

“Aight, the Zebra Room’s all good.”

Susannah moved down the dimly lit hallway. Mike attempted to follow her but Fortress laid a meat-hook against his sternum. Mike stopped in his tracks.

“Deez da roolz, pa’tnuh,” Fortress said, sucking his teeth. “You don’t touch my gurl evuh. Not evuh. Keep yo’ hands by yo’ side at all times, won’t be no reason a’ break a neck in dis muhfuckah. Rool nunh deuce – don’t say no offendin’ shit to my gurl. She sensidih. I am too. If you start talkin’ kinky on some, “I wanna’ take a shit on yo’ head and eat it type shit”, I’m a’ come a-knockin’ and come a-knockin’, youknowwhatI’msayin’?”

“Yes, but I’m a gentleman,” Mike offered.

“Good f’you, nigga,” Fortress said. “This hea’ after alls be a “genelman club.” You keep it genelmanly, it be all good. Good as Hollywood, nah’mean?”

“Orrt…” Mike’s word came out as gibberish. Fortress snorted and picked a wedgie out of his asscrack.

“Lass rool,” he said. “Keep it in dat room. Don’t be waitin’ fuh my gurl out in the pahkin’ lot, nah’mean? Don’t be shittin’ out yo’ eyeballs at ‘er all night, nah’mean? Juss keep it cool. Don’t fall in luh wid a killa’. Yo sho’ ta’ die.” Fortress smiled broadly at his own words. “Unh. Yeah.”

“Yes,” Mike stammered.

“Whatchu’ got, whatchu’ got?” Fortress moved towards Mike.

“I – hey!”

Fortress threw Mike’s arms up and started frisking him.

“I can assure you…” Mike began.

“Whatchu’ got, cracker barrel?” Fortress grunted.

“Nothing. No,” Mike grimaced and wiggled as Fortress’ hands patrolled his body.

“Aight, baby,” Fortress said. “Two hunned. Boom.”

“I’m sorry?” Mike asked, bewildered.

“Two hunned bones, nigga,” Fortress bellowed. “Private dance go two hunned.”

“Ah yes…hundred, yes.” Mike extracted a roll of bills from his khakis and peeled off four fifties. He placed them in Fortress’ huge hand.

“Aight, dook,” Fortress said. “Zebra Room. Third on yo’ left. Remember dem roolz, playboy.”

Mike straightened his pants out and ran a nervous hand through his comb-over.

“Thank you,” he swallowed, and moved towards the third door to his left.

He ran his hand over the fake zebra skin and turned the knob.

It was a small room with a single chair in the middle. There was only a faint trace of red light beaming down from a ceiling that Mike couldn’t quite make out. It looked like nothing but dark space and Mike remembered a movie he’d once seen about alien abduction.

“Sit down,” he heard Susannah say from somewhere.

“Yes,” Mike answered, and quickly put himself in the chair.

“The guy at the door told you the rules, right?”

“Yes,” Mike said. “He told me them and I understand them.”

“Okay. Then we should have a good time.”

“Yes but…” Mike looked around for Susannah. “I was wondering…umm…this is a little embarrassing. I’m sorry.” Mike waited for Susannah to say something but she didn’t. So he continued. “I’ve got a thousand dollars in cash. I…do you think we might do a little extra?”

“Sorry,” Susannah said after a moment. “I don’t do that.” Then she appeared through the darkness like a lantern being lit. Mike inhaled and took his glasses off. “But don’t worry,” she told him. “You’ll be fine.”

Mike tried to put his glasses back on but Susannah took them from him. She folded them up and laid them under the chair. “Just rest your arms at your side, baby” she told Mike. “And relax...”

She stepped four feet in front of him and turned to face the corner of the room. She held up three fingers and suddenly there was music. Mike heard long droning guitars rolling on top of each other. They were backed by a slow electronic beat that seemed to echo off the rooms. Mike felt a tingle in his legs. His throat started to lump and dry out. He looked at Susannah with a toddler’s eyes. She looked back at him. She didn’t smile. She stared into him like a judge about to pass sentence.

“Do you like me?” she asked him.

“Oh my god,” Mike whispered.

Susannah began moving her body. She wasn’t dancing exactly, but shifting inside the sound. There was no choreography. She used the music like a tracker uses the wind. Mike’s mouth was agape. Susannah had forgotten his name again.

She took two steps toward him. She let the sleeves of her dress slide off her shoulders. Then the dress was on the floor. Her naked body glowed in front of Mike like a church candle. He wanted so badly to touch her that he whimpered. His eyes ascended across her body like a sunrise. He looked at her thin ankles, one of which was tattooed with a vine and roses. He looked at her legs, smooth and taut. She had not a trace of pubic hair. Everything had been waxed till the skin was bare as the day she was born. Her stomach wasn’t muscular but was still pretty slim. Her belly-button was pierced. There was some sort of gem hanging out of it, trying desperately to shine in the low light. Mike looked at her breasts. They were small but beautiful, the nipples erect, a small birthmark just to the side of the areola on her left breast. Mike looked at her collarbone, her ribcage, her earlobes. He shifted in his seat. He could feel himself getting hard but he silently shrugged off any shame. She turned her body around. Her back was arched, the shoulder muscles opening like little whirlpools. Tiny patches of cellulite clung beneath her ass. She had a tattoo on her lower back of a large star surrounded by smaller stars.

She backed in towards him. Then her hands were on his legs. Mike could feel her fingertips in his thighs and then closer to his crotch. Her spine was brushing over his chest and stomach. He could sense each vertebrae caressing the cotton fibers of his shirt. Her hair smelled like citrus and it fell across his eyes and lips and neck. She wrapped her hands around the back of his head. Her ass was grinding against him. Across his hard-on. His breathing became labored. He felt the muscles in his arms explode as he forced them to remain at his side.

“Do you like this, baby?” Susannah whispered to him.

Mike was straining. A large purple slug-like vein appeared in his forehead. He started moaning. His hands touched her hips. She pushed them off easily, like spreading peanut butter on bread. Mike’s hands closed into fists. He was shaking like a puppy in the rain.

“Ahh God!” he hollered. “I’m…gonna’…come…”

He cried out and she felt him buckle underneath her. She moved off of him slightly, right before he ejaculated. She was bracing the chair’s arms, her head tilted back over the front of Mike’s shoulder. He was gasping for air. An impossible look of pain and relief was twisted into his face.

“There’s a bathroom at the end of the hallway, sweetie,” Susannah said, folding her dress back over herself. “I hope you had fun.”

Mike was dabbing beneath his eyes with the collar of his shirt. He wiped his lips with his tongue and found his glasses. He looked down at the semen stain on his pants and attempted to chuckle.

“Oops,” he grinned. He looked up and Susannah was gone.

At the bar, Boomis introduced Susannah to the black man he’d been talking to.

“Suzie, this is Angelo Cross. He’s from out west. Wanted to meet you.” Boomis smiled and showed that metal tooth but Angelo Cross just looked at Susannah with his warm burgundy eyes. He took her hand and kissed it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Suzie,” he said.

“The pleasure’s mine,” Susannah answered, a small blush gently bursting across her pale cheeks.

“I’ll let ya’ll too get acquainted,” Boomis said. He picked at the tip of his nose and walked away.

“You’re quite a dancer, Suzie,” Cross said. His voice was deep but young sounding. He smelled like coconut. A small gold crucifix dangled around his neck. He smiled and Suzie could feel herself smiling back at him.

“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate that.”

“Let me buy you a drink,” Cross offered.

“Okay,” Suzie said. “I’ll have a Bacardi and Diet.”

“One Bacardi and Diet,” Cross told the bartender.

“Comin’ up,” the bartender said, winking at Susannah.

“Thanks, Sam,” Suzie said, winking back.

“Yeah,” Cross said. “You really stand out to me, y’know?”

“I hope that’s a good thing,” Suzie said, her eyelids batting at him like moth’s wings.

“Oh yeah,” Cross said.

Sam put Suzie’s drink on the bar.

“Just put it on my tab,” Cross said over his shoulder.

“You got it, ace,” Sam said, tapping his knuckles against the marble and moving off.

“What is it you do in Los Angeles, Mister Cross?” Susannah asked him.

“Please call me Angelo, Suzie. Mister Cross sounds so…cross.”

Suzie giggled like an infant. “Okay. Angelo.”

“So much better,” Angelo said.

“So what is it you do in Los Angeles…Angelo?” They both shared a chuckle.

“I’m a photographer. And a filmmaker.”

“Oh wow,” Susannah said. “Are you pretty successful at it?”

“Yes I am,” Angelo said. He launched another easy smile at her. She tossed it back at him.

“I love your dreds,” she said.

“Thank you,” he said. He ran them back over his shoulder and smoothed his tie down against his chest. “Have you ever done any modeling work?”

“Not really,” Susannah said. “I mean I’ve really wanted to get into it for a long time. But it’s a little hard in Ohio, y’know?”

“Sure,” Angelo nodded. “That’s why I got the hell out.”

“Yeah,” Susannah said. “I’m thinking of that myself.”

“Oh you definitely should,” he offered. “You’d be dynamite out in L.A.”

“You think so?”

“Hell yeah, girl. You’re the heartbreaker in this place. Have they given you your own show here yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Well fuck ‘em. Come to L.A. and you’ll be world famous in a week.” Angelo took a sip of his Jack and Coke. He grinned at her from behind the thin red straw.

“What sort of modeling?” Suzie asked. “I mean I’m assuming…”

“I’ve shot for everyone,” Angelo said. “From Hustler to Hefner.”

“You’ve shot for Playboy?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

“Wow.”

“And I make adult films for Savage Movies. Have you heard a’ them?”

“Of course,” Susannah said, even though she hadn’t.

“I’m trying to negotiate a deal with Cinemax to develop a new erotica series. I’m calling it “Camp Eros.” The whole thing takes place at a summer camp. You can’t have the kids involved, y’know…but the counselors. That’s what it’s about.”

“That sounds cool.”

“It’s gonna’ be, definitely. And if it doesn’t work out, we’ll shoot it hardcore and it’ll be even better.”

“Wow,” Susannah said.

“Got a lotta’ things poppin’, Suzie. A lotta’ things poppin’.”

“Sounds like it.”

“I’d love to get you involved.”

“Well I’d love to be involved.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

“How bad?”

“Well…I mean real bad. I’m not tryin’ to stick around the state of Ohio for the rest of my life. I wanna’ go places.”

“You wanna’ be a star?”

“Absolutely. I know I’ve got what it takes.”

“Like what? Like Jenna?”

“Absolutely.”

“…’Cause y’know, Jenna’s like a one in a million type, y’knowwhatI’msayin’?”

“She’s like a hero of mine.”

“Alright. Cool. Well. I’ve seen what you do to the boys in this place…”

Two big pink clouds spread across Susannah’s face again.

“Geez, Angelo. Nobody makes me blush like this.”

“Yeah so…like I was sayin’…I’ve seen what you do to the boys in this place…”

“Yeah?”

“But what’re you gonna’ do to me?”

Susannah stuck her fingernail between a grin. Her eyebrows arched like two cat’s tails. She could hear the men around the runway hollering. She could hear ice being shoveled into a glass. She could hear Angelo breathing in front of her. Then she heard none of it.

“I’ll give you a night you’ll never forget, Mr. Cross,” she said. “And then you’ll take me to L.A. and I’ll tear that town to pieces. I’ll be the one making you famous.”

Angelo loosened his tie and took a sip of his drink. Susannah moved close to him and put her hand on his crotch. She kissed his lips, long and full. Then she let go. Angelo took a deep breath. He turned to face the bar and adjusted himself.

“Well, Suzie,” he said. “Meet me at my hotel tonight. I’m having a small party with some close friends of mine. We’ll talk more then. And we’ll do other things we need to do as well. ‘Cause you got me hot as a motherfucker, baby.”

Angelo reached for a bar napkin and extracted a pen from his inside pocket. He wrote the hotel, the room number, and his phone number on it. He handed it to Susannah.

“I’ll come by when I’m done here,” she told him. “See if I can get out a little early.”

“Cool,” Angelo said. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Good,” she said, and walked off.

Boomis was sitting in his office going to work his Saturday steak. The spread was laid out on the big desk in front of him. So were a ton of loose papers, a stapler, a stack of “Cable’s” t-shirts, and a small figurine of a puppy that read: “I’m the Boss!” Boomis’ lips were moist and bits of beef were stuck in his teeth. The sound of him eating was like an obese woman being spanked.

The office door was open but Susannah knocked anyway. Boomis shot up as if he’d been caught digging under the Christmas tree before the big morning.

“Shee-it, Suzie, you scared the wings off me!” he declared. “Tryin’ to eat this feast in peace. You know this feller needs his privacy when he’s havin’ supper.”

“Sorry, big guy,” Suzie said. She pulled up a chair on the other side of the desk. Boomis rolled his eyes.

“Lord,” he said, giving her a pitying look. “What is it then?”

“Any chance I might be able to get outta’ here at one tonight?”

“C’mon, Suzie-annah. There ain’t no way. Two maybe.”

“Pretty pretty please with sugar on top.”

“Not even if you added some sprinkles on the sombitch. I can’t have my best gal callin’ it that early. Hell, you’re supposed to be dancin’ up until three tonight. That queer lookin’ boy in the khakis. He’s gonna’ want at least one more private dance. You got a billion fans out there.”

“It’s eleven-thirty now. I’ll do one more runway, give that guy a dance if he wants it, and then I’ll sneak out.” Susannah clasped her hands together. “Please please please…”

“Aw Jesus, Suzie. You’re killin’ me here.”

“I’ll come in tomorrow and work the day. Sunday daytime, Boomer. That’s unheard of. I’ll work a double. Have some a’ yer buddies come in tomorrow. I’ll dance for ‘em all day.”

“Oh man. Well. We already shattered last year’s take for tonight. The big Mid-July. Fuck me. And it. Okay. I can’t believe I’m sayin’ okay but okay.”

“Ohmygod, thank you so much, Boomer!” Susannah yelped. “I owe you so big.”

“Goddamn right. Come clean my apartment or something.”

Susannah sprung out of her seat and bopped out of the office.

“Hey this ain't about that boy at the bar is it?!” she heard Boomis yell behind her.

Back in the dining room Susannah found herself face to face with Mike again. He’d poured some water onto the stain in his pants but it hadn’t quite faded all the way yet. Susannah got a real good look at his mustache for the first time. It looked bristly and she could see something buried in it.

“Excuse me, Susannah,” Mike said. “Would you like to join me for dinner? I was eating some buffalo wings with the blue cheese sauce earlier, but now I’m having a real full meal. I’ve got a table just over there. Would you like to join me?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve gotta’ go back on stage in a little while. I can’t really sit down. But how about a rain-check?”

“Oh. A rain-check? No, you got it. I’d love that. You know. I mean. I’d love that. Is that okay?”

“Definitely. I’m here every Saturday night.”

“Okay yeah well…I know this is probably not the standard thing. The standard y’know…thing to do but…I-I…wanted to give you my card. It’s just..y’know if you felt like meeting up sometime for coffee. Or a or a…beer or something. Y’know?”

Mike handed Susannah a business card. She glanced at it. It read:

Michael Pluckman
Labrotech Inc.
Research & Data

(937)566-8059
mpluckman@labrotech.net.

“My cell number’s on the back,” Mike offered. “I wrote it down. The other number’s my office number.”

“Okay Michael,” Susannah said. “Remember to come see me next Saturday. I’ll be looking for you.”

“Yeah definitely,” Mike said. “Or, y’know…gimme a call sometime if you feel like it.”

“See you later,” Susannah said with a wink.

Mike watched her slide off toward the bar. He watched her share a laugh with the bartender who Mike thought was too young and serious looking to be working at that kind of a place. Mike watched her leave his business card on the bar. He watched Susannah laugh again. He looked at her legs and her hair.

A waitress bumped into him from behind. She was wearing a white bikini and white assless chaps. She had a large tray of burgers and sandwiches high above her head.

“Excuse me,” she said, moving past him.

“Yeah right,” Mike growled, wiping his nose. “Yeah right.”

Mike stood there and watched as Susannah disappeared behind a door marked “employees only.” Then he went back to his table and started eating his roast beef au jus sandwich.

At quarter to one, Susannah was getting ready to make her exit. She had on a skin-tight sleeveless black dress that matched her black heels. The bottom hem hit just below her asscheeks. If she were to sit, she’d give it all away. Her hair was pinned up. Her make-up was fresh and she wore a gold crucifix around her neck, similar to the one Angelo had been wearing. She said goodbye to the girls who all looked at her with envy and confusion.

“I gotta’ go meet my dad,” Susannah joked. Nobody laughed.

As she passed by the kitchen she heard Santiago call her name. She stopped and walked back to him. He was sitting on a milk-crate smoking a cigarette. A chicken breast was on the grill. The yellow skin popped and spat as it met the heat.

“Sooh-cie,” Santiago said, blowing a tunnel of smoke out from between his lips.

“Yes honey,” she replied.

Santiago got to his feet. He ran his thumbs underneath the waistband of his pants and lifted his eyebrows rapidly. Susannah tried to laugh.

“Chu porget chur chift meal. Chu wahn ay…? Begtehbull burger?”

“No babe, I gotta’ go. Sorry. But you can make me some pancakes in the morning.”

“Oh…caing I, princhess?” Santiago said, his eyes droopy with sarcasm. “My pleahsur…”

Susannah winked at him and walked off. Santiago flicked his tongue out at nobody and flipped the chicken.

Susannah left through the front door. Glen, the head of security, was there. He stood six feet, six inches. Glen did all the hiring for Cable’s security and he made sure that all his guys were African-American, at least 6’ 2”, drug free, and had no criminal record. He wanted to build the whole thing in his image. He wore black jeans, black Rios cowboy boots, a black t-shirt that read: “Don’t Fuck With This”, and a black Stetson that covered a bald head.

Susannah tapped him on his left shoulder and moved around him on his right when he turned to look.

“Suzie Q,” Glen said, swallowing her in a playful hug. “Where you off to so early?”

“Got a date with destiny,” she told him, unable to hide the smile that came stealing across her face.

“Careful with destiny, baby,” Glen said. “Destiny’s a thief sometimes. Destiny usually wants something in return.”

“Like what?” Susannah asked him, playing along.

“Wants you to read to it in bed or some shit. Maybe buy it a pair of shoes or a house.”

“Aww,” Susannah cried.

“I’ll walk you to that Max a’ yers,” Glen laughed.

They made there way to Susannah’s car. She hit the alarm on her key chain and two digital groans echoed across the asphalt.

“How’s Ayanna doing?” she asked him. “Didn’t you say she was going to the doctor or something?”

“Oh…well…she found a lump in her breast, y’knowwhatImean? So. They’re runnin’ some tests. I dunno. She ain’t tellin’ me nothin’ till there’s somethin’ to tell me, know’msayin’? I’m a little worried though.” Susannah touched Glen’s arm. It was like a gnat landing on an elephant. He tucked his lower lip into the upper one and tried to frown out a smile. “It’ll be aight,” he offered.

“Just let me know how everything goes,” Susannah told him. “Lemme know if I can help.”

“I will. Thanks, Suzie Q.”

She kissed his cheek. He smiled appreciatively. Susannah got in her Nissan and turned the ignition. She rolled down the window.

“Be careful out there,” Glen said.

“Always,” she said, and drove off.

Susannah pulled the bar napkin from her purse and dialed Angelo’s phone-number. After three rings he answered.

“Yuh,” Susannah heard him say.

“Hello there,” she said.

“Is this the lovely Susannah?” Angelo asked.

Susannah could here voices in the background. Music. Maybe television.

“It sure is,” she said.

“Well. You musta’ done quite a job charming your boss. I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you for another couple hours at least.”

“I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Good for you. That’s a good quality to have. ‘Specially where I’m gonna’ take you.”

“Sounds like you got some people there.”

“There’s a few folks here. It’s cool. How long you gonna’ be?”

“I’m not far. About to get on the interstate. Should be there in like fifteen minutes.”

“Cool.”

“Should I bring anything?”

“Just your pretty little self.”

“I can do that.”

“See you soon,” Angelo said.

“Okay,” Susannah said.

“Peace.” And he hung up.

Susannah had it up to ninety on I-75. She turned the air conditioner off and rolled the windows down. The radio was playing Fergie’s latest single and Susannah turned it up. The highway was empty. There wasn’t even a semi in sight. It struck Susannah as odd but she shrugged it off almost as soon as she noticed it. The sky was impossibly full of stars and Susannah remembered the glow-in-the-dark planets and stars that she stuck on the ceiling above her bed when she was a kid. She suddenly wanted to tell Angelo about those stars. She wanted to take his shirt off. She wanted to lick across his body. She wanted him to take her picture. She wanted to shower with him. She wanted him to introduce her to everyone he knew. She wanted them to go gambling together in Las Vegas. She wanted to kiss him again.

When Susannah saw the deer in front of her, it lasted less than a second. But even in that time she found herself asking where it’d come from. She hadn’t seen it run into the road. She hadn’t seen it up ahead from afar. It was as though it had appeared like a flicker in a movie theatre or some sort of unforgettable snapshot from a nightmare.

She hit her brakes with all the force she could conjure and yanked the steering wheel to the left. The deer didn’t move. It stood in the middle of the road like a child watching his parents scream at each other. Susannah made eye-contact with it as she swerved. She heard the Maxima grind and screech. And she felt the front end crush the deer like a bundle of twigs. She screamed so loud she almost lost her voice instantly. The car had stopped but her heartbeat had her feeling like the needle was buried. Her ears were ringing. She was crying and heaving but no tears came.

There were still no cars. No trucks. No traffic whatsoever. Susannah wondered how that could be. Then she got out of the car.

As she slowly made her way around the hood, she noticed that the damage was minimal. In fact, it was barely negligible. Her mouth dropped open and she shook her head. Aside from a slight dent and a crack in the headlight, the car was almost completely untouched. She pulled at her hair nervously. She didn’t want to look at the deer. It was maybe ten feet away. It was still alive. It was trying to pull itself up with its front legs. Its hind legs were completely useless. One had been completely torn off. The other was so badly severed it hung off the torso like a banana peel. The deer’s face was expressionless. It pushed and pulled at the asphalt. Its eyes were wet. It shook where it lay.

Susannah was on her knees. Moaning and sobbing till it echoed off the woods that surrounded her. She wiped her face and looked around her. The white lines on the blacktop were almost blinding. She took off her shoes, held one arm against the hood of the Nissan and puked. Then she went into her purse, got he cell-phone and dialed 9-1-1.

She told the operator it was the interstate. Interstate 75. Just outside of Dayton. Well, probably still within the Dayton limits. She wasn’t sure what exit. She saw no signs. She was somewhere in Ohio. Just outside of Dayton. She was fine. The car was fine. The deer needed help. It was suffering. She’d hit a deer. She didn’t understand why there were no other cars out. She needed the operator to send someone to help the deer.

The operator told her there’d be a trooper there in a matter of minutes.

Susannah hung up and tossed the phone on the shotgun seat. She got out of the car and went to the deer. It had stopped moving but it was still breathing. Susannah knelt beside it. She reached her hand out. The deer turned its body towards her as if to receive her touch. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Susannah shook her head in slow-motion. She wanted to apologize. She felt the heat of the pavement on the palms of her hand. She noticed the crucifix around her neck. Then she looked up at the sky. There was only a half-moon up there.

The wail of the siren slid through the summer air till it was no longer necessary. The state trooper pulled his cruiser over to the shoulder and left the lights spinning. He got out and walked over to Susannah. She felt his hand ensnare her shoulder. She knew he was a white man. She knew what he looked like before she even picked her head up.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” she heard him ask.

“I think so,” she said.

“Do you have any injuries? Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I don’t think so. I hit a deer.”

“Okay. Ma’am, if you want to just take a moment and sit. If you wouldn’t mind sitting in the passenger seat of your vehicle. I’ll check on the animal.”

Susannah moved back to her car. Her knees were filthy and it occurred to her what she was wearing. She got in the passenger seat. She felt her cell-phone jam up against her butt and she took it and hurled it into the backseat. She was looking into the woods. Then she looked towards the trooper.

He was knelt over the deer with his hands on his hips. He took his hat off and wiped his brow with his forearm. Then she saw him get on his radio. She couldn’t hear what he was saying. The receiver was clipped to his belt and the transmitter was attached to the epaulette of his shirt. He looked like he was talking to some sort of little creature on his shoulder.

The trooper finished his radio conversation and approached her. He moved his hands from his hips to his gun belt. When he neared her she noticed the name beneath the badge on his chest. It was Smith.

“Ma’am, there’s nothing we can do for that deer. She’s beyond care. I’m afraid I’m gonna’ have to dispatch her.”

Susannah looked up at him.

“Whaddayou mean?”

“I have to shoot the deer, I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do. She’s suffering right now.”

“Okay,” Susannah heard herself say.

“So you may wanna’ turn away or…and you might wanna’ cover your ears.”

“Okay.”

The trooper blinked purposefully and gave a consoling look. Susannah paid it no mind. She felt exhausted. On the other side of the interstate she saw an 18-wheeler rip by. She felt it in her neck.

The trooper was standing over the deer again. Susannah got out of her car and slowly moved towards him. The trooper drew his pistol. He snapped the safety off, checked the chamber, and took aim. Susannah froze. She didn’t hear the report but she watched the trooper shoot the deer in the head.

She wanted the deer to vanish. To fade away off the face of the earth as easily as it had appeared to her before she struck it. She wanted it to teleport in front of her very eyes. Instead it lay there on the road, still as an empty bottle, the humidity and blood bringing insects.

“Why didn’t you shoot it in the heart?” Susannah asked the trooper. “In the heart.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“I know but why did you shoot it in the head? Why didn’t you shoot it in the heart?”

The trooper was confused. He swallowed and thought for a moment. Then he looked up at Susannah.

“Not sure I could find the heart,” he said. Then he said, again, “I’m sorry.”

Susannah stood there watching as he dragged the deer off the highway, onto the shoulder, and into the woods. She wondered if he had kids.

“Do you need me to take you anywhere, miss?” he asked, approaching her.

“Where?”

“Well, I dunno uh…is your car runnin’ alright? Doesn’t look like there was much damage.”

“No. There wasn’t much.”

“I’ll have to file a report stating my actions here, but…so you’re free to go. Do you wanna’ take a ride over to Dayton Memorial just to get checked out real quick? Did you hit your head at all?”

Susannah stared out across the interstate. It seemed endless as the ocean.

“No. I didn’t hit my head but…thanks. Thanks for coming out and helping me. I think I’m just gonna’ go on home.”

“I think that’s probably a good idea.” The trooper took one last look at her and got in his car. “You have a good night. Drive safe, okay?”

She heard his engine turn over. She heard him drive off. She watched his taillights fade in the distance.




















Peru, MA (9/12/08)