Dope by Sara Gran Read Free Book Online Page B

from Paul’s. Guess he didn’t have any luck finding his girl. I wasn’t surprised. Once a girl spent a little time in Paul’s, it was hard to get her out.

Chapter Six
    A fter lunch I took the subway up to Midtown and then walked a few blocks to Fifty-third between Broadway and Sixth. There in the middle of the block was a door between a theater and an office building with a sign painted on it: “ROSE’s—Hi Class Lounge—COCKTAILS—Dancing—Right Upstairs!” The door opened up into a small, narrow staircase that reeked of booze and marijuana and cigarette smoke. The stairs took you into a room ten times the size you would have guessed—it was built on top of the theater next door.
    In Rose’s, taxi dancers would dance with a guy for a small fee; for a bigger fee they’d dance a little closer, although no one took their pants off and Tony, the manager, made sure everyone kept their hands where he could see them. It was a tough job, dancing in a dive like Rose’s. But it paid okay and it beat the hell out of Wool-worth’s. It was close enough to Times Square to get the tourist trade and close enough to the better part of Midtown to get the local businessmen.
    I worked there when I was hooked on dope. It was my husband who got me into it. Easy money, he said. Wear a low-cut dress with long sleeves to cover the track marks and the sores on your arms and they’ll never know. You dance with a guy, spend some time with him, and then whatever happens after the club closes is your own business. Yours and your husband’s. Except after a while, even with the long sleeves, they do know. And even the men who come to Rose’s don’t want to hang around a junkie. She might be good for one thing, but they’re not going to pay her to dance and make conversation.
    The place hadn’t changed at all. Tony was right up at the cash register, like always, sitting on a stool, scowling over a pile of papers. Toward the left side of the room was a tiny stage where a three-piece band played “Blue Moon.” It seemed like every joint in the world like Rose’s played “Blue Moon,” over and over again. The musicians looked like they were having trouble keeping their eyes open. There wasn’t much else to the place; a dozen tables and two dozen chairs, a bar along the back wall, long red curtains keeping out the light, and a big open space for dancing. The lights were down almost low enough to make the girls look pretty and the men look handsome. Almost.
    It was a slow day. There were more girls than customers, and only three couples were grinding away on the dance floor. The rest of the girls were up at the bar drinking cocktails.
    â€œJoey!”
    Tony stood up and came toward me with a smile. “Joey! Look at you! You look great, Joe, you really do.”
    â€œThanks, Tony. How’s everything around here?”
    â€œEh . . .” He had a list of complaints. The girls didn’t look good, the guys were cheap, and the price of liquor was up. “So what brings you by,” he finally asked. “Looking for a job?”
    â€œSure,” I said, laughing. “How do you think I’d look in that?” I nodded my head toward a girl in a tight blue number I was around ten years too old for.
    â€œGorgeous,” Tony said. And something about the way he said it choked me up a bit. But only for a second. I showed him the picture of Nadine and McFall.
    â€œYou ever see her in here?”
    Tony took a good long look. “She looks like a girl who might have worked here for a couple of months. Not for long.” He squinted at the picture. “Raquel?”
    I shrugged. None of the girls at a spot like this used their real names.
    Tony thought for a moment. “Raquel, I think. Maybe Roxanne? I don’t know. The girls’ll know, they’ll remember. But honestly, Joe, I’m not even sure it’s the same