Dawn Patrol

37

There are thousands of Mick Penners.

A stripper's boyfriend who hangs around strip clubs is not exactly a unique profile. He's a definite type, this guy, and you can see him everywhere. He's that weird dude who gets his rocks off watching his girlfriend take her clothes off for a roomful of guys, and he's alternately turned on and repulsed by it. On the one hand, he thinks he's a stud because he has a hot chick that other guys want; on the other hand, he's jealous that other guys want her. So when the girl comes home-and a Mick Penner usually lives with her while she pays the rent-he works out his ambivalence by slapping her around and then taking her to bed.

You can see a Mick Penner hovering in the back of any strip club, keeping an eye on his girl, chatting up the other dancers, bothering the bartender, generally being a pain in the ass. The more benign Mick Penners leave it at that; the worse ones mooch off the girl, taking her tip money as soon as she makes it. The worse ones yet use her to get to other girls. The very worst pimp her out.

The Mick Penners of the world always have something cooking, always have something on the stove, always are running some scam or the other. And it's always the next big thing, financed by the stripper girlfriend until the ship comes in. A real estate investment, a start-up tech company waiting for the bust-out IPO, a screenplay that Spielberg's people have expressed interest in, a Web site. It's always going to bring in a million bucks and it never does. Something always happens somewhere along the way to the big payoff, but no worries-by that time, a Mick Penner is on to the next big thing.

“How do we find this Mick Penner?” Petra asks.

“You're in luck,” Boone says. “I know the dude.”

“You do?”

“Yup,” Boone says.

On the way to the Hotel Milano, he tells her how he knows Mick Penner.