Death by Pantyhose by Laura Levine Read Free Book Online Page B

budding comic.
    I tried to think of a snappy comeback, but
what could I tell him? That my real car was a
Corolla? So I just tossed him the keys and headed
inside.
     
    If I could pick one word to describe the Laff
Palace, it wouldn't be palatial. A dark, cavernous
room with a tiny stage up front, it had all the
charm of a meat locker. At eight o'clock, early in
the evening in the comedy world, the place was
only half full.
    A bouncy barmaid in tight shorts and a T-shirt
that said Cute, but Psycho came up to me, holding
her round bar tray aloft. She wore her jet black
hair in a ponytail at the top of her head, Pebblesstyle.
    "Table for one?" she asked.
    "No," I told her, "I'm with Dorcas MacKenzie,
one of the comics."
    "Oh, her," she said dismissively. "She's over at
the bar." She pointed a neon pink fingernail to a
bar at the back of the room. Then she trotted off
with her drinks, her ponytail swishing as she
walked.
    I headed over to a worm-eaten bar and inhaled the intoxicating aroma of beer and Lysol.
    Dorcas sat at the end of the bar, sipping a
Coke through a straw.
    "Hi, Dorcas!" I said, with fake enthusiasm, as I
sat down next to her. "How's it going?"
    "Okay, I guess." She looked about as happy as
a condemned prisoner waiting for her last meal
to show up.
    "Actually," she confessed, "I'm a little nervous. I always get nervous before I go on."
    I'd be nervous, too, if I had an act like hers.
    "I'm sure you'll be great," I lied.
    At the other end of the bar, the nasty comic
I'd seen at the deli was deep in conversation
with his writer.
     
    "Isn't that the guy I saw the other day at
Pinky's?" I asked.
    "Yeah, that's Slick Vic. All the comics hang
out at the bar while we wait to go on."
    Indeed, I saw a few other guys standing
around, mumbling their monologues to themselves. Dorcas was the only woman in the bunch.
    It was Open Mike night at the club, a night
when they let anyone get up and perform. Apparently regardless of talent. Up onstage a
chubby guy oozing flop sweat was trying in vain
to amuse the audience by making fart noises
with his underarms.
    "They always put the weak acts on first," Dorcas explained, "and save the stronger comics for
later. "
    "Which means you should've been on hours
ago," Vic quipped.
    The comics at the bar snickered, and Dorcas
turned red.
    "Shove it up your kazoo, Vic," she shot back.
    At which point, the bartender, a beefy guy
who looked like he could moonlight as an extra
on The Sopranos, came over to take my order.
    "Hey, Pete," Dorcas said. "This is Jaine, my
writer."
    "Nice to meetcha," he said, with a wink.
    I got the not very pleasant feeling that Pete
was taking a shine to me.
    "So you're gonna write for Dorcas, huh?"
    "Lots of luck," Vic called out. "You're gonna
need it."
    'Just ignore him, Dorcas," Pete said, loud
enough for Vic to hear. "He's a jerk."
    I could see Vic's jaw clench in anger, but Pete was a refrigerator of a guy, and Vic was no
dummy. He pretended not to hear.
     
    "So what'll you have, sweetheart?" Pete said
to me, wiping a glass with a dishcloth that
looked like it had just come from a car wash.
    I figured anything that didn't come in a glass
was a safe choice.
    "I'll have a bottled water."
    "That'll be six bucks."
    Six bucks for a crummy bottle of water?
    "Plus a three-drink minimum."
    There went my first week's salary.
    "But for you," he said, with another wink, "I'll
make it a two-drink minimum."
    "Then I'll live it up and have two bottled waters. "
    Pete flashed me a gap-toothed grin and hurried off to get my waters.
    At a nearby table, I saw a customer eating a
burger and fries. The fries looked pretty darn
good, and I was tempted to order them. But if
the kitchen was as filthy as Pete's dishcloth, I
didn't want to risk it.
    "Is it safe to order the food here?" I asked
Dorcas.
    "Not unless you've got a stomach pump in
your purse. Rumor has it the chef seasons his
burgers with sweat."
    "I guess I'll stick