Bad Doctor

6

Bobby and Willow

“You’re late.”

“Tell me about it!” Willow says.

“No, you tell me!” Bobby says. “Where the fuck’ve you been?”

“I had to cover for China.”

“The country?”

“The dancer.”

“Which one’s that?”

“The red head.”

“With the eyeball tattoo, or the pretty one?”

“The skinny one,” Willow says, then frowns. “You think she’s pretty?”

“I’d fuck her.”

“That’s nice to hear.”

“I’m just kidding.”

“Bastard.”

“I’m kidding, Willow.”

“I’m going to bed.” She turns to leave.

“Whoa.”

She stops.

“Why didn’t you call?” He says.

“You took my cell phone. You wanted to play Angry Birds.”

“I like Angry Birds.”

“The truth is you don’t trust me to have a cell phone.”

“I trust you, I just don’t trust men.”

“Not much point in paying for a cell phone I can’t use.”

“I use it all the time.”

“Right. I’m going to bed now, okay?”

He sniffs the air. Something’s different.

“You don’t smell like strip club,” he says.

“I took a shower.”

“You what?”

“Took a shower.”

Bobby gets up from his beer chair and positions himself between her and the bedroom door. “Did I tell you never to shower there?”

“You did.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you think the owner spies on the girls.”

“I know he does.”

“Fine. Whatever. But Marvin left after the first shift.”

“So?”

“Ten minutes to closing time, some guy vomited three feet from me, and I couldn’t get the smell out of my hair. I stood guard while Cameron showered, then she stood guard for me.”

He thinks about that, then lifts her chin up to put more light on her face.

“What happened here?”

He touches her cheek where Chris Fowler slapped her an hour ago.

“Is it still swollen?” she says.

He starts to puff up like when he’s about to punch out some poor schlub at Shady’s. “Who hit you?” he says.

“Cameron.”

“ What?”

“When the drunk puked, I jumped and turned away and Cameron smacked me by mistake.”

He frowns.

“Tell me the truth. Did someone hit you?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“I already told you.”

“Cameron.”

“That’s right. You’ve seen her dance. She throws her arms all over the place. I ran into one of them.”

Bobby laughs.

Willow says, “Glad you think it’s funny.”

“You hit her back?”

“Of course not.”

“Why?”

“It was an accident.”

“I’d have smacked her anyway.”

“Of course you would. Can I go to bed now?”

He stares at her cheek a while longer, then says, “How much did you make?”

“Nine-sixty.”

“No shit? That’s a world record!”

“Trust me, I earned every cent.”

He smiles a gappy, brown-toothed smile that makes her cringe.

“Nine hundred and sixty dollars?”

“That’s right.”

He rubs his fingers together. “Like they say in the movies-”

She looks at him blankly.

He rubs his fingers some more. Then says, “Show me the money.”

“I’ll have to show you tomorrow.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m getting it first thing in the morning.”

“The fuck’re you talking about?”

“They rang out the shift while I was in the shower.”

“You let them take your money?”

She sighs. “You act like it’s never happened before. I’ve got a receipt.”

Bobby puts his hand out. “Cough it up.”

Willow shows him a piece of paper that explains she earned twelve hundred ten, minus her stage fee of two-fifty, for a net of nine-sixty.

“I can’t believe you have to pay those bastards two hundred and fifty bucks to work for tips.”

“It’s been like that since I started.”

He squints. “Whose signature is that?”

“Gary’s.”

“Where’d he learn to write?”

She shrugs. “Kindergarten?”

He laughs. “What time tomorrow?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll have it long before you wake up.”

“Make sure you do.”

“Can I go to bed now?” she says.

He gives her a long, hard look, but stands aside to let her pass.

“Nice ass,” he says, as she enters the room.