Death’s Excellent Vacation (Sookie Stackhouse #9.5)(6)
Author: Charlaine Harris

She was thin, with the sulky expression of someone who’s used to being spoiled. She wore a yellow bikini top with a tiny pleated gray and yellow skirt, a take on the "naughty schoolgirl" image. Where had I seen her before? As soon as Pam acknowledged her, the vamp straightened in her chair, inclined her head, and dropped the sulkiness. When Pam murmured in her ear, she began rummaging around in the big bag. She handed Pam a handful of material and two pairs of shoes. I was amazed until I realized that she could have carried twenty costumes in there, if the size of the one she was wearing was any gauge. Pam cocked her head at me, and I hurried to help. "What you got?" I asked. She dropped the garments into my hands. She’d snagged a glittery gold spandex bandeau to go around the chest and a matching–well, it was flattering it to call it a thong. There was a pair of translucent heels to wear with it. Then there was a sort of sky blue leotard with black trim: a former leotard, since most of it had been snipped away. A little swath of blue for boob coverage, descending in a tiny strip to the bottom part, which was like an abbreviated bikini. Black heels and thigh-high black hose completed the look. Pam sat down on a chair, hard. She giggled again.

"Get ready, buttercup! I’ll take the gold; you take the blue. It’ll look great with your tan. " She shrugged off her coat, and when the speckled blouse came into view, she read the alarm on my face correctly. She turned her back to the room to unbutton it, then turned it inside out and tossed it on the floor, close to the vamp. To my amazement, the vamp waited for a moment, then in one quick movement picked up the blouse and stuffed it into her huge bag. Pam was out of her clothes and into the costume as if it were her daily routine. I turned my back on the room, though no one seemed in the least bit interested in my goodies. In the course of wriggling into the thing, I found out the descending strip Velcroed to the bottom of the costume. Convenient. I looked at us together. "Wow, " I said. "Pam, we look great. " "We do, " Pam agreed, with no attempt at modesty. We gave each other a high five. "I’m coming down, " Pam said. "Really, I’m feeling almost like myself. " Mohawk called from the door. "Okay, the doubles act!" I had no idea how we were going to get out of this, so we started toward the door. Even drugged, Pam managed walking in her platform shoes without a wobble in her step, but I had to concentrate ferociously to master the spike heels. "What’s the names?" Mohawk asked. "Sugar and Butterscotch, " I said, and Pam turned her head to give me a look that clearly said she thought I was an idiot. "Cause she’s white and you’re brown, " Mohawk said. "Cute. " I hadn’t spent all that time tanning for nothing. "Okay, you’re on, " Mohawk said, opening the door at the end of the corridor to reveal a short flight of steps leading up into darkness. The noise surged out at us. A Latina blonde stomped down the steps, topless, followed by the sound of whistles and catcalls.

She looked sweaty and bored. The cops were still in the hall. "Shepherd of Judea, " I muttered, and Pam and I looked at each other and shrugged. "New skills, " she said. "Eric told me you are quite the dancer. You just have to try doing it naked. " So we went up the steps, teetering in our high, high heels, to begin our careers as strippers. Suddenly we were on the stage, which was simply wood painted black, punctuated with three stripper poles. The emcee was a brunette guy with a big white smile. He was saying, "Remember, gentlemen! The applause each girl gets is measured with our applause-o-meter, and out of all our dancers tonight, the three girls getting the most audience response will be hired to appear right here at Blonde!" So we were supplying the audience with free entertainment in the faint hope that we might get a job out of it. Michael was an even bigger ass**le than I’d thought, which was saying something. "Here, straight from their record-breaking engagement in Vegas, I give you Sugar and Butterscotch!" the emcee said, with considerable drama. I figured he took drugs. I put on my biggest and emptiest smile, and managed to make it to the front of the stage without falling down, thanks to Pam’s sudden grip on my hand. Together, we looked out at the men hidden in the darkness, catching a glint of beard here, shine reflecting off a belt buckle there. The hoots and whistles were deafening. We hadn’t specified a song, of course. Justin Timberlake’s "SexyBack" came blaring over the sound system, and that was all right with me. "Move it, " yelled a rough voice.

We had to dance. NOW. And then we had to get the hell out of here before Michael and Rudy recovered enough to come after us. I half turned to look at Pam flirtatiously, and she stared blankly back at me until she got my drift. "The pole, " I muttered, and she gave the audience a saucy smile and wound herself around the nearest pole. The cheering started. I felt the lust begin to dominate the men’s minds as I hugged Pam from behind. Pam got with the program, and we swung around the pole together as if we’d been glued. I caught a glimpse of Pam’s face. She was licking her lips in a lascivious way. "You go, Pam!" I said. "They want a show, we’ll give them a show, " she said. She bent me over her knee and pretended to spank me in perfect time to the music. In fact, Pam got a little carried away. But the guys loved it; oh boy, did they. I got spanked, licked in the ear, had Pam’s hands running over my barely covered chest, and more stuff I just won’t mention. We both ended up doing things the stripper pole had probably endured many times. You know, it was kind of fun after I got the hang of it. I wouldn’t go close enough to the side of the stage to get grabbed. And since I already felt naked,I wouldn’t take off my top. Since that was something the audience clearly expected us to do, it was lucky that at that moment the police pulled the plug on the music and switched on the house lights. They weren’t the cops who’d been in the hall. "All right, everyone!" called a tall detective in a blue Windbreaker. "There’s been a murder here, and we need to talk with all of you. " "Murder, " I said to Pam. "Murder?" As our eyes met, I could see she was just as bewildered as I was. And I have to say here: With the lights up, we could see our audience, and they looked even worse than I’d expected.

OFFICER Washington, neat and shiny in his brown uniform, tried to look anywhere but at my chest. He’d been on the force long enough to have a kind of worn-out face, but he hadn’t become so world-weary as to be able to completely ignore the abundance of Pam and me that was on display. I learned that the idea of being with a white woman didn’t do a thing for Officer Washington, which helped him do his job. "You ladies talked to the manager of this club earlier, I understand?" he asked. He had a pad and pencil out. By now we knew that the victims were Michael and Rudy. "Yes, we had an appointment, " I said. "What for? None of the other strippers had to talk to the manager. " "We used to work at another vamp-owned club, " I said, improvising. I could give Fangtasia’s phone number. "We hoped if we told him that, we’d get the job. He said he’d take it into account. " Pam and I shrugged, at very nearly the same moment. Pam seemed to be a little high even now, but there was more control in her movements and she was keeping her mouth resolutely shut. She was still holding my hand, though. We’d waited our turn in the bigger room where we’d left our clothes. We’d been allowed to change, thank goodness. Pam was still wearing her gold bandeau top. In sympathy, I’d only pulled on my slacks. Our friend the stripper vamp had passed by the door on her way out.