Skeezy Steve
Episode One of a sporadically updated series
Daytime strip clubs are proof that sex appeal has a maintenance schedule.
At one in the afternoon, the Kitty Clinic was less a den of temptation than a badly lit break room with poles. The bass had been turned down low enough that every song sounded like the same tired heartbeat. The dark walls looked bruised instead of seductive. The stage lights were off. Glitter clung to the floor like patches of stubborn mold, and the whole place smelled like disinfectant laced with old smoke.
Gwen had one shoe off and one eye on the television, her other foot tucked beneath her on the booth seat. She wore a white two-piece that had once been crisp and deliberate but now looked lived-in, the fabric wrinkled from a shift that technically hadn’t started yet.
Bai was folded into the corner beside Gwen, dressed in a white mesh top over a pale bra with matching shorts. She was scrolling her phone with the blank concentration of a woman who had already seen every video offered.
Bianca sat backward in a chair, her chin resting on her arms. Her white bodysuit caught the daylight in a way that suggested it had been chosen for a stage that was not currently in use.
In front of them sat a repurposed LCD television that had once been a menu board and now played daytime trash. They were there because a man named Skeezy Steve paid them to be there.
Not officially.
Midday at the Kitty Clinic was dead, but Skeezy Steve had a way of turning dead time into something that paid. Favors, company, whatever Skeezy called “technically legal” when no one important was listening. It was easier to sit with him. A few hours of bad television and whatever he decided counted as compensation often worked out better than struggling through dead time for nothing.
Nobody knew whether Skeezy owned the Kitty Clinic, worked there, slept there, invested in it, or had won visitation rights in a settlement. Nobody asked why Skeezy had a key anymore. Gwen had asked once and gotten a story involving a notary, a raccoon, and a woman named Big Linda who may or may not have been real, but had apparently won a fight against Susan, the house mother. That was enough to make Gwen stop pushing.
After that, the key became less upsetting than the explanation.
Skeezy Steve, of course, sat in the booth between all three dancers like the club owed him money. Not that Skeezy Steve ever treated debt as something so boring as money.
“That man is not the father,” Skeezy said, pointing at the television.
Gwen didn’t look over. “They haven’t done the test yet.”
“Don’t need it. Look at his shoes.”
Bianca sighed. “You cannot determine paternity by footwear.”
“You can determine character.” Skeezy raised his feet, showing off an expensive pair of black leather dress shoes.
“So what do your shoes say?” Bai asked.
“Make an appointment with your doctor afterward.” Gwen snorted.
“That I always have a Plan B in every situation.” Skeezy gave a throaty laugh that tried to be seductive and landed somewhere worse.
The front door opened.
Cold daylight cut across the carpet, and a dark-haired woman stepped into the Kitty Clinic like she had come to repossess the air. She wore a black leather miniskirt that caught the light in sharp, deliberate flashes and a matching black leather bra that left nothing to interpretation. Every step was slow, exaggerated, hips swinging with theatrical precision, daring the room to keep up or look away.
A pixie-cut blonde followed half a step behind her, quieter and smoother, dressed in a tight red skirt and a red tube top that clung like it had made a promise. Where the brunette moved like a challenge, the blonde moved like control. She slipped in beside the brunette and wrapped an arm around her shoulders like she was claiming territory that had never been in question. Then she smiled like she had already forgiven the room for the mistake it was about to make.
“Damn,” the brunette said. “You really do watch trash TV with the girls.”
Skeezy turned toward them, and his whole face went bright in the worst possible way.
“Maddie! Sadie! Just the hot young things I was wanting to watch come—” He caught himself, grinned wider. “—in that door!”
“Oh, yeah?” Sadie asked.
“Oh yeah!” He stood, already turning toward the dancers behind him.
Gwen looked at Bai.
Bai looked at Bianca.
Bianca mouthed, No.
Skeezy clapped his hands once and tapped his right foot.
“Ladies, please,” he said. “Places.”
“No,” Gwen said.
“We rehearsed.” He lowered his hands slightly, like that should help.
“Do we have to?” Bai moaned, throwing her head back dramatically.
“You got any cash I didn’t give you?” Skeezy turned his glare on them.
The dancers sighed as one and stood. Skeezy clapped again, turning back to Sadie and Maddie.
Somewhere in the room, against God and labor law, Bai clapped back.
Then she looked down at her hands like they had betrayed the union.
“Don’t look at me,” she said. “It was muscle memory.”
“There is no muscle memory for unpaid choreography,” Gwen said.
“Technically, debts need to be paid,” Skeezy said.
“Technicalities and debts are how men end up in depositions,” Bianca said.
Gwen moved first, because Gwen had the most dignity and therefore the most to lose by dragging things out. She stepped to Skeezy’s left and clapped twice, dead-eyed and perfectly on beat.
Bianca took his right, rolling her shoulders with the weary professionalism of a woman who had once cared about counts and still resented everyone for making that her burden.
Bai slid in behind him, sighing like she was watching her own soul clock in.
Maddie stared.
Sadie’s face fell into a deep frown.
“Oh, absolutely not,” Maddie said.
Skeezy raised both hands.
“Ladies,” he said, “hit it.”
“There is no it,” Gwen said.
“There’s always an it.” Skeezy tapped his foot. “That’s how rhythm works.”
“That is not how rhythm works,” Bianca said.
Bai clapped again, but nobody thanked her.
Skeezy snapped his fingers, pointed at Maddie, and somehow found a spotlight where no spotlight had any legal reason to be.
“Hey, luscious!” He slid forward, hips loose, grin wide.
The dancers answered with the empty-eyed precision of women who had rehearsed the dumbest thing in the room and hated that it showed.
“Hey, thicc-y!”
“Girl, you make my pants sing!” Skeezy rolled his shoulders, pointing down at himself like he was unveiling a crime.
“Your pants are about to be short a thing.” Sadie’s hand slid over Maddie’s hip.
“You’re not doing this,” Maddie said.
“Hey, beauty!” The dancers shifted around Skeezy in a loose triangle.
“Hey, pret—” Skeezy leaned in, finger raised mid-verse.
The dancers broke formation at once.
“You said we couldn’t use that!” they exclaimed in unison.
Skeezy waved it off like a man dodging accountability.
“Hey, hotness!”
“He’s doing it,” Sadie said, leaning against Maddie, her voice low and edged with disgust.
Skeezy spun, landed badly, and opened his arms.
“Maddie, Maddie, sweet as sin, let ol’ Skeezy in!” Sweat was already forming on his face.
Maddie stepped forward, unimpressed but now trapped in rhythm.
“Store’s closed, stick with your hoes.” She waved a hand at her midsection, then toward the dancers as she sang back.
Sadie snapped her head toward her. “Maddie!”
The dancers hit the chorus with the bitter force of professionals who knew the song was stupid yet catchy.
“Debt’s got rhythm! Debt’s got bass!”
“Smile for Skeezy! Come sit on my fa—!” He waggled his eyebrows and made his tongue dance.
“I have mace,” Maddie said, turning her head away from him.
Gwen and Bai line-danced a couple of steps like they were proving a point to the choreography, while Bianca kept the clap sharp enough to hurt feelings.
“You owe me!” Skeezy slapped his chest, rocking back on his heels with his toes splayed out to either side.
“Pain and misery!” Maddie stepped closer, voice flat and lethal.
“Cheap ecstasy! Extreme pleasure!” Skeezy clutched his chest, miming a dramatic fall but staying on his feet.
Sadie slid closer behind Maddie, one arm across her waist, the other draped over her shoulder.
“She’s mine forever.”
Skeezy stood quickly, leaning toward Maddie until their faces were inches apart.
“I just want a taste of your treasure!”
“You’re a disease.” Maddie’s smile sharpened.
“Touch her, you’ll lose your knees.” Sadie wasn’t smiling now.
By then, the dancers had stopped pretending they were not good at this, which only made them angrier.
“Debt’s got rhythm! Debt’s got class!”
“Pay in action or pay with a—” Skeezy began.
“My knuckles of brass.” Sadie let go of Maddie long enough to crack her knuckles.
“Maddie, honey, Maddie, doll, I’d give you half my all!” Skeezy dropped to one knee, hands outstretched as if holding a ring box.
“Your world’s a panel van behind dead malls.” Maddie barked a laugh as Sadie kissed her neck.
“And the ghosts of girls who blocked your calls.” Sadie reaffirmed her grip on Maddie.
“Maddie, Maddie, be my bride!” Skeezy blinked rapidly, still holding the imaginary ring box.
“One day I’ll wear your hide.” Maddie leaned in just enough to make it threatening.
Skeezy sighed. “She talks vows already. Sadie, it’s no trouble, we can be a throuple!”
“Tie the knot! You two are effing hot!” the dancers sang, twirling.
“What? You can’t say fu—” Sadie looked confused at the dancers.
“We have class!” they called back.
“Maddie, Maddie, you owe me time!” Skeezy beamed.
Maddie paused, annoyed. “You got me on that rhyme.”
“You owe me sweat! You owe me heat!” Skeezy twirled his finger at her as Gwen and Bai helped him to his feet.
“You need your teeth beat.” Sadie smiled without warmth.
“Maddie, Maddie, don’t say no! We could make this nice and slo—” Skeezy put a hand on his chest and swung his hips.
“I’ll never be your hoe.” Maddie stepped forward, dragging one hand across her own throat.
The music died, and the dancers landed the final pose through pure professional spite while Skeezy blinked and grinned like he’d just been complimented.
“Marry me, you cu—”
“Can’t you ever be normal?” Gwen dropped out of formation immediately.
Bianca pointed at him. “I picked a good tune, though, right?”
“Only because I wrote the chorus,” Bai said.
Gwen turned to glare at both of them.
“Was that supposed to make her want you?” Sadie looked Skeezy up and down as she let go of Maddie.
“No,” he said. “That was supposed to make her remember she owes me.”
Maddie reached into the side of her boot and pulled out a roll of bills.
“We came to pay you,” she said.
Skeezy looked at the money like she had handed him something contagious.
“Take it.” Maddie held the roll out.
“No.”
“It’s money.”
“That’s what I don’t like about it.”
Sadie stared at him. “You are the only man alive who can make refusing cash sound like a sex crime.”
“Thank you.”
“That was not praise.”
“I take what I’m owed.”
“You’re being offered what you’re owed,” Maddie said.
Skeezy looked at the roll again, offended by its existence.
“Money is for banks,” he said. “And men who think black leather shoes go with purple button-up shirts.”
Bianca, halfway back to the booth, stopped and looked at Skeezy with her mouth open. Gwen saw her looking and immediately waved her off. Bianca looked away just as fast.
Maddie kept the money extended.
Skeezy still would not take it.
“We borrowed money,” Maddie said slowly, like she was speaking to a dog with warrants. “We brought the money back. With interest, even. That clears it.”
“Baby, you know your money is no good with me.” Skeezy smiled.
“Just take your damn money,” Maddie said.
“I gave that money to you. It’s not mine to take.”
“Our debt is paid and cleared,” Sadie said, moving around Maddie. “Enough.”
“Paid means numbers moved.” He tapped the roll of bills. “Cleared means the debt is satisfied.”
Sadie’s eyes narrowed. “And what satisfies this debt?”
“Now we’re talking.” Skeezy’s grin got comfortable.
“That’s worse.” Maddie put the money back into her boot.
“Everything gets worse before it gets interesting,” Skeezy said.
“Everything gets worse when you enter a room,” Gwen said.
Skeezy put a hand over his heart. “I do bring momentum.”
“You bring paperwork,” Bianca said.
“And glitter rash,” Bai added.
“That was one time.”
“It was airborne,” Gwen said.
Skeezy reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.
Maddie took one step back.
Sadie’s hand drifted toward her back.
“No weapons,” Skeezy said.
“You don’t know what’s back here.”
“A switchblade you call Lickety-split.”
Sadie paused.
Maddie frowned.
Skeezy snapped his fingers, and Susan appeared from behind the bar with the terrible patience of a woman who had been waiting for him to make this her problem.
She was the house mother, either going on her sixtieth year in the position or her sixtieth year in life. No one was sure which. She wore a Mother Goose costume cut short enough to suggest the nursery rhyme had made poor choices. In her hands was a stack of papers that were anything but standard printer pages: receipts, napkins, matchbooks, drink tickets, a laminated coupon, three torn envelopes, and a honey bun wrapper folded with the solemn care of a will.
She set the stack on the table as the dancers looked over despite themselves.
Bai leaned closer. “Is that my eyeliner on that napkin?”
“Borrowed.” Skeezy tapped the side of his head.
“You can’t borrow eyeliner by using it.” Bai crossed her arms.
“You can if you return the memory,” Skeezy said.
Gwen sat down. “I need another job.”
Maddie looked at the stack. “What is this?”
“Debts.” Skeezy waved his hand across the pile like a bad magician.
“These are trash.” Maddie picked up a handful and crumpled them in her fist.
“Most debts are, at first. Careful, that one’s notarized in barbecue sauce.”
Sadie picked up one of the few official-looking papers. “This says ‘one ride, no questions.’”
“Good one,” Skeezy said.
“It also says ‘add-on bonus: clothing.’”
“Context.”
Sadie turned it over.
“It says Paul Kay on the back.”
“That’s the next stop.”
Sadie dropped the paper like it had body heat.
“No,” Maddie said.
“You don’t even know what I’m asking.”
“That has never improved anything.”
“You came to settle what you owe. I respect that.” Skeezy spread the papers with both hands, making a fan of bad decisions across the table. “That’s why I love you.”
Maddie stared at him.
“Don’t ever say that again.”
“But money won’t do. Oh, no, no, my sweet. I could never hold you in monetary consideration.” Skeezy pressed one hand to his chest. “What you owe me is simple—participation.”
Sadie laughed once.
“No.” Maddie took a step back and crossed her arms.
“One or three days.” Skeezy coughed.
“No.”
“We’ll use my personal vehicle.”
“No.”
“It’s just a little collection work.”
“Absolutely not,” Maddie said.
“Mostly legal.”
Gwen, Bai, and Bianca all spoke at once.
“Technically illegal.”
Skeezy pointed at them. “Y’all ain’t in this.”
“Technically,” Bianca and Gwen said.
Bai picked up another napkin and read it. “‘Two dollars, one apology, and a goat thing.’”
Skeezy snatched it from her.
“That one’s a special case.”
Maddie took another step back, arms still crossed.
“We are not going debt collecting with you.”
“Why not?”
“Because we have survival instincts.”
Skeezy looked at Sadie. “You might get to cut someone.”
Sadie smiled.
Maddie turned on her. “Don’t smile.”
“I’m not smiling.”
“You are doing bad idea mouth.”
Sadie pressed her lips together.
Gwen pointed at her from the booth. “She’s doing it.”
Bai nodded. “That’s absolutely bad idea mouth. I know bad idea mouth.”
Bianca took a sip from a paper cup while pointing at Bai. “I’ve seen customers lose mortgages to that mouth.”
“Ugh.” Maddie closed her eyes.
“It’ll be fun.” Skeezy gathered the debts into a sloppy pile and tucked them under one arm.
Gwen made a noise. “That means bring bail money.”
Skeezy smiled.
“Technically,” he said, “bail is just optimism with paperwork.”
“One stop.” Maddie pointed at him.
“Sure.” He opened his hands.
“One.”
“Technically, every journey is made of one stop at a time.”
Sadie laughed.
Maddie turned toward the door.
“I hate both of you.”
Skeezy followed, delighted.
“How many debts?” Sadie asked.
“A few.”
“How many is a few?” Maddie asked.
Skeezy glanced down at the stack under his arm.
“Depends how fast y’all can run.”
Maddie walked out first.
Sadie went with her.
Skeezy followed last, humming the chorus under his breath.
Inside the Kitty Clinic, Bai waited until the door shut.
Then she clapped once.
Gwen turned on her.
Bai looked down at her hands.
“Muscle memory,” she said.