“Look, I know her.  She’s got long, light brown hair and glasses,” Michelle said listlessly into the receiver.  It was three o’clock in the afternoon.  She was on the phone with an obstinate secretary with a god complex after being transferred from a clueless secretary in the wrong department.

“That’s not a very specific description, Ma’am,” the man said, his voice nasal and peevish.  Michelle ground her teeth and did not scream.

“Look, sir, I do know this woman.  I told you, I met her once, and I didn’t get her last name.  I know she’s a graduate student in Philosophy of Science, and I know her name is Gracie.  She’s tall, about twenty-seven, pale, and thin.  I just need to talk to her.  I don’t even need her home address.”

“And you’re sure she’s a student here?”

“Yes.”  She found that people were more cooperative when she sounded authoritative, even when the things she said were unmitigated lies.

She heard the man mutter, then the sound of tapping on a keyboard.

“Could you hurry it up?” Michelle said.  “I haven’t got all day.”

A pause and a few keyboard taps later, the man said, “Oh, yes, here she is.  Gracie Jones.  Right there.”

Michelle’s breath caught.  “Oh, Jones,” she said.  “Yeah, that was it.  Of course.”

The secretary paused, then with relish he said, “Actually, there is no Gracie Jones here.  Not only are their no graduate students by the name of Grace or Gracie, but there are no students or professors in our entire department with that particular handle.  You’re obviously a liar, Ma’am, and should be ashamed of yourself for wasting my time.  I don’t feel you have any more business on this line.  I trust you won’t call back.”

Michelle had already hung up by the time he finished, making his precisely timed slam of the receiver back onto the cradle an anticlimax.

She sighed.  She crossed another college off the list and began to dial the number of another, but three loud bangs echoed from her door and she stopped.

When she opened it she saw Sam, haggard and smiling, slouching into her thin frame with her arms wrapped around her torso.

“Hiya, sweetheart,” she said.  “How’s the hunt going?”

“It’s coming along.  I think I’ve got a few leads.”

“You got any lemon?”

“Just bottled lemon juice.”

“Hey.  It’ll work.”

Michelle retrieved the lemon juice from the fridge while Sam stood in the doorway.

“How’re things at work?” Sam asked.

“Good,” Michelle said.  She paused.  “I mean, actually, pretty shitty.  Princess has HIV and Julie got the shit kicked out of her by Laura and the others.  The club’s all full of tension.  You can feel it.  It’s awful.”

Sam took the bottle of lemon juice.  “Well, when it rains, it pours.”

“That’s what Abe said.”

“Well, Abe’s a man who knows the power of a good cliché.  Nine times out of ten, they became clichés for a reason.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I should be,” Sam said.  “I’ve been around.”

Sam returned to her apartment and Michelle made two more futile calls before going to work.  The afternoon sun was summer hungry through the still air and sweat beaded on her forehead as she arrived at The Caribou.

In the almost-empty club Michelle saw Beth sitting drinking a cocktail that resembled a Shirley Temple, boy-short blond hair held off her forehead with a headband, eyes surrounded with thick, dark makeup, in a boy’s undershirt and a short black skirt.  When she approached, Leon greeted her with wet kisses on the backs of her hands.

“Hey, Beth.  Haven’t seen you here in a while.”

“Yeah.  Well, you know Viv and I broke up.”  She lit a cigarette and took a drag, holding it limply between two fingers as she exhaled.

“Yeah, I heard.”

“Well, she was on cocaine and shit.  Meth even, I think.  What was I supposed to do?”

“I – don’t know.”

Beth pulled an effortless puff and let the smoke seep out her mouth and nose as she spoke.  “Anyway, she said she’s stopped.  She’s quitting.  It hasn’t been long, but she says she’s serious.  I came here to talk to her, but the girls backstage say she doesn’t show up for another half-hour, so I guess I’m waiting.”

“I’m glad you’re working things out.”

Beth looked at her, squinting her black-enveloped eyes.  “Michelle, right?  You don’t do drugs, do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.  I mean, I think I have a drinking problem, but I’ve never done anything stronger than pot.”

Beth nodded.  “Do you know if she’s stopping?  Have you noticed?”

“I think so.  It seems so.”

“Good,” Beth said.  “It was just too hard watching her hurt herself.  I couldn’t do it, you know?  But I also couldn’t teach her something she had to learn herself.”

Michelle went “Hmmn.”

“I tried to stay away, because I didn’t think she would come back.  I didn’t think she could change.  But then she called me and said she was giving up drugs for me, and I just couldn’t hang up.”  Beth’s mouth released a cloud of smoke.  “I meant to stay away longer, to give her more time and make sure she was sure, but to be honest, I just couldn’t live without her.  I drank too much.  I was a surly bitch.  I wasn’t myself.”  Her eyes glistened but she did not cry, and instead looked at Michelle and tried to laugh.

“You probably think I’m a young, romantic fool, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Well, maybe I am young and romantic,” Beth said.  “But I don’t think I’m a fool.  I don’t think I could feel this way if there weren’t something real between Viv and me.  Why does romance have to equal invalidity?”

Michelle was stroking Leon’s head slowly, listening to Beth.  “Do you think maybe you’re over thinking this?” she asked.

Beth sighed and slumped.  “All the goddamned time.”

To Michelle’s left in the distance, the giant, hulking form of Willy lumbered slowly into a seat.  Michelle noted his presence with the mild detached interest of anyone spying a familiar they haven’t seen in a while.

“Hey, Beth, can I ask you a question?”

Beth was watching Princess dancing on the main stage.  She straightened some and raised her eyebrows.  “What?”

“Well, um, I.”  Michelle fumbled in her purse for the grainy photograph of Gracie.  “You know, I don’t like to stereotype, and I would never ask you think if I didn’t know people like you, I mean, lesbians before who said that sometimes you guys – you girls – know each other more than maybe normal people, I mean other people.  I mean straight people.  I mean that I heard there’s like a network.  I mean, a lesbian told me that.  Not that that means anything.  But anyway, I’m really desperate to find this girl and I know it’s a long shot but I just have to ask you in case you know her even though I’m sure you probably don’t.”  Michelle took a deep breath, blushed in red of five shades, and thrust the photograph into Beth’s hand.

Beth looked at the ballerina and then at the picture.  She chuckled to herself quietly.  “You mean, not to say I look like a raging bull-dyke, but you thought I had connections in the lezzy underground.”

Michelle blushed in red of seven shades.  Then eight.

Beth smiled.  “That’s Gracie Solomon.  She’s a PhD student at my university.  She teaches Intro to Philosophy of Science.  I know people who’ve had her.  In class, I mean.”

“Wow, really?  Do you know how I can contact her?”

At the far end of The Caribou, Julie Han walked out of the dressing room.  Deep bruises and scrapes still showed through thick makeup, her bikini displaying every contusion.  Willy saw her immediately.

When it rains, it storms.

When Julie saw Willy, the muscles in her body tensed and locked.  She lowered her face and tried to slink past him unseen.

At the last moment, she turned her head to look at him.  It was too late, he had seen her, and in his eyes rage boiled, his teeth clenched and bared.

For all his beast-like lurching, high voice, speech and breathing impediments, and clumsy, cumbersome frame, the most terrifying thing about Willy was his ability, when he wanted, to move swiftly and deftly as a tiger.  He jumped out of his seat and flew across the room toward Julie, who stood up straight, her left eye flinching slightly as he approached and grabbed her arm, wrapping it in his mammoth hand.

“What the fuck is this!” he screamed, otherworldly falsetto rising above the stereo and the din.  “What the fuck is this?”

Julie’s voice was a low, soothing monotone.  “Calm down, Willy, this is nothing.  I was on a trip to the woods this weekend and fell out of my canoe.  Pretty stupid, huh?  It banged me up real bad, but I’m tough, you know.  Back to work already.”

Willy used the thick pad of his thumb to wipe away the makeup that concealed her black eye.

“A wock didn’t do this!” he shouted.  “A wock couldn’t do this.  Who did this?  Who hurt my Julie?”

His tearful, bloodshot eyes scanned The Caribou.  He was squeezing her arm so hard that she began to wince.

“Willy, calm down.  You’re overreacting.  Please let go of my arm.”

He turned back to her.  “No one hurts my Julie.  It was one of those bitches.  Tell me!  It was, wasn’t it?  It was that whore, Pwincess.  She did this ‘cause she’s jealous of you.”

The few patrons in the club looked at them uncomfortably.  Soon, two bouncers approached and attempted to hook their arms around Willy’s.  He threw them off, his mouth snarling.

In the same motion, he swung around and glared at the stage.  Julie’s nemesis, Princess, danced there carelessly, watching nothing.

“Don’t, Willy!” Julie shouted.

It all seemed to occur outside time.  Michelle and Beth saw Willy dash toward the main stage, throwing security guards off like dolls.  It was both very slow and extremely fast, the movement.  From all directions, screams rose as Willy leapt onto the stage.  Even Princess screamed, and though Michelle already knew the girl wasn’t mute, her voice shocked her.

Then time started again, a whirlwind of action shrinking to a point.  The sounds of screaming stopped and everyone saw the horrific scene.  Willy was on top of Princess gripping her around the neck.  She tried to kick him off, but his strength was too great and the pressure on her neck was already making her lightheaded.

Princess knew she was being strangled to death, and she didn’t know why.  More surprising, however, was the realization of how much she wanted not to be killed, to survive this moment, even though a certain voice in her head reminded her a quick death like this one would be easier than the one waiting for her if she avoided it.  She dug her nails deep into the backs of his hands, but they did not loosen.

A bouncer was beating Willy on the spine with a broken-off table leg, but he seemed not to notice.  Someone (a waitress or a patron – maybe a dancer) called the police.  Half of the people in the club were screaming.  Princess’s field of vision grew dark and began to fade.

Michelle stood up on the rungs of her stool to get a better view.  Then she heard Beth’s voice.

“Leon!” Beth shouted, but the dog was already on the stage.

Teeth bared, Leon jumped onto Willy and clamped his wide mouth over the fleshy pit of his elbow.  The giant froze for a moment, staring at the dog’s grip on his arm as if he was confused by the sensation of pain.  Then he bared his own teeth and screamed.

Willy let go of Princess and began shaking his arm furiously.  Leon held on, moving with the man, digging his teeth even deeper into the skin.

Beth now stood at the edge of the stage shouting desperate commands at Leon, Michelle lingering beside her, torn between watching the battle between the giant and the animal or the bouncers surrounding Princess.  One picked her up and carried her off the stage.

Princess blinked and shook her head, her arms wrapped around the bouncer’s neck.  As her vision returned, she could see Willy flailing, beating Leon with his free arm, throwing the animal’s body repeatedly against the floor of the stage.

“Yamete!” she screamed, twisting, trying to wring her way free of the bouncer’s arms, but they were already moving out the doors and into the parking lot.

Beth was crying and covering her eyes.  Michelle watched silently, her body still, arms wrapped around her torso, clutching herself.

Willy swung the sixty-pound body through the air, thrusting it into the stage, following with a pounding fist.

Everyone stared at the violent dance.  The man and dog twirled in some syncopated, hypnotic time signature.  Leon was so bloodied and broken it seemed impossible for him to be fighting still, but his jaws remained fastened as he growled at the man.

When the police arrived a few minutes later, Willy was beating Leon’s lifeless body.  After the dog’s back snapped, most of the occupants had run out into the parking lot.  Michelle knelt beside Beth as she sobbed into her knees sitting against the building.

Julie remained in The Caribou watching as the police pulled Willy away from the dead dog.  She gave a report of the evening’s events, as well as a history of Willy’s mental problems to the best of her knowledge.  As they led him past her in handcuffs, the two made tragic eye-contact.  Julie shook her head.

The cop touched her arm, brushed her bruises.  “Did he do this to you?” he asked.

“No,” she said.  “I’m a self-mutilator.”

The cop nodded uncomfortably and proceeded.

The police had evacuated The Caribou completely by the time Vivian arrived.  Beth sat against the wall crying with Michelle still hovering beside her.

Michelle told Vivian the story as Beth shook against the wall with sobs.  Vivian eyes began to stream tears as she knelt to take Michelle’s place beside Beth.  “He was a good dog,” one of them said, but Michelle couldn’t tell which, “he was such a good dog.”

Abe and Claudia stood together off to the side, two silhouettes watching as the police let the dancers and customers back in to claim their possessions.  The club would close for the night – the second night in two weeks.

“This is going to hurt our reputation,” Claudia said.

“Have a little faith, my darling,” Abe said.  “We still got a lot of fine girls.”

“Samantha’s gone.  Who knows how many will leave after this.”

Abe cocked his head toward her.  He smiled and grabbed her around the waist.  “Babe, a little faith goes a long way.”  Claudia rolled her eyes.  “Besides,” Abe added, kissing her ear, “what do I always say?”

“A new stripper turns eighteen every day.”

Abe nodded and turned to look at The Caribou.  “That’s right.  That’s right.”

The next day, Vivian came in early to quit and to tell Claudia thank you for the opportunity.  After leaving the office she sat at the bar and waited in a short skirt and white blouse.  When Michelle walked in, she ran up and hugged her.

“Hey, thanks, girl,” said Vivian, throwing her arms around Michelle’s neck.

“Uh, sure,” said Michelle.  “For what?”

Vivian let go.  “For talking to me.  And, like, listening.  For your advice.  I think if you hadn’t been here, I might have like gone crazy.  I think I’d be one of those girls like Angel, and I don’t think I’d have gotten a chance at getting Beth back.”

“Have you – gotten her back?”

Vivian smiled.  “I’m back at her dorm now.  We’re on a trial period or whatever, but I’m doing my part.  I’m not doing any more drugs and not stripping anymore.  I’m just not strong enough to hold onto myself and strip.  I mean, I guess some girls can, and that’s great, but I just can’t.  I’m gonna live with Beth for now and try to go to college.  I saved a lot of money, and there’re scholarships and stuff, but if it takes me a little longer to find a way to get to college, that’s just the way it’s gonna have to be.”

Michelle nodded.  “That’s really great, Vivian.  I mean, I’m really happy for you.”

Vivian smiled, then her face fell.  “We buried Leon’s ashes this morning in the park where he liked to walk,” she said.  “He was a really good dog.”

“Yeah, he was.  He saved Princess’s life.”

“Beth’s getting another service dog.  It’s not safe for her to be without one, but it won’t be the same.  She’ll miss him a lot.”  Vivian stared for a moment at the ground, then looked up.  “But we’ll get through it.  Don’t worry.”  She reached up and gave Michelle another hug.

“You’re beautiful,” Vivian said, letting her go.  “Don’t ever change, girl.”

The teenage girl walked out of The Caribou and did not look back, her skirt swooping along her thighs from side to side in rhythm with her gate.  Michelle watched and remained.  She would never see her again.

Filed under: Julie Han, Michelle, Mlle X, Princess, Samantha, The Caribou, Vivian, Willy by Jade