The Legend of Joel Riggins part 8: Strip Clubbing
by Daniel Beadle - Friday, September 14, 2007
Back in Milford, Donnie surveys the crowd at the local sports bar. He glances at his pal Jack Lyons, who’s busy bending the ear of Sean Finnerty, an Irish local and childhood friend. Donnie casually swigs his beer, and locks on to a brunette in a low-cut dress talking to a nearly identical friend at the edge of the dance floor. There’s something familiar about her face, and so Donnie takes another sip of his beer and makes his way over to her.As Donnie approaches his prey, his mind flickers through the last days of high school, trying desperately to match the face with a name. However, as he arrives, the girl immediately notices him, and that slight morsel of nervousness that grew inside Donnie fades away.
“Donnie? Donnie Savia? Oh my god!” She gives him a partial hug, given that both of them have drinks in their hands.
“Casey…” Donnie begins.
“Fernandez! How could you forget? We used to take Mr. Campo’s chemistry class back in tenth grade.”
“Right. How have you been? What’ve you been up to?” Donnie listens to her response, but only on a subliminal level. He studies her face like a jeweler would analyze a diamond. And just as she finishes her wordy response without a reciprocal question, Donnie says exactly what’s on his mind: “You look amazing, by the way.”
Casey sighs. “That’s just because you can see my tits.” She walks away.
“But I don’t even like tits! I’M AN ASS MAN!” he shouts after her. Donnie sighs and swigs his beer down to almost nothing. His cell phone rings, and he flips it open. “What’s up, guy?”
Joel is standing on a sidewalk in downtown Walpole. “Me and Bill are heading down to that topless bar in Woonsocket in a little while. Are you interested?”
Donnie looks around the bar. “You mean KYJ’s? I heard that place just revived itself…”
“Yeah, I think they just got in a whole new bunch of strippers.”
“Sounds good.”
“Where’s Lyons at?”
“He’s here with me, talking to Sean Finnerty. He’s having another heart-to-heart.”
“Figures. Tell him to come out with us. I’ve been hangin’ with Bill all day… it’s taken a lot out of me.”
“I’ll bet.”
“So meet us there in an hour.”
Donnie looks at the nearest clock. It’s 9 PM. “We’ll be there.”
“Later.”
“Later.” The boys snap their phones shut at the exact same moment.
Across the bar, Jack is speaking energetically to Sean. And even though Sean is three years Jack’s minor, he towers over Jack by at least a foot.
“And so that’s what we need to do, Sean. You need to give Jack Lyons a call whenever something’s going down, and I can hook you up with whatever you need. See, you and me, we can own this town. Together.”
Sean looks down lethargically at Jack. “Absolutely, Jack.”
“Alright, I’m done talking. Feedback?”
Sean pauses, and the gears of his mind working are almost audible. “No, it sounds good.”
Jack is mildly frustrated, but almost too drunk to care. “Alright. Now go. Go into the world and do everything I’ve said.”
“Jack,” Donnie interrupts. “I don’t mean to break up your little speech here, but we gotta get out of here.”
“Why?”
“We got the call.”
* * *
“What’s up, kid?” Bill stumbles out of the convenience store with a case of Budweiser in one hand and a carton of Marlboro Lights in the other. “Just gotta make a call to Tony, and then we’re on the road.” He tosses a can of Bud to Joel, and cracks one open for himself. The duo begin walking down the sidewalk, back toward Bill’s truck.
Near the truck, on and around a park bench, a small gaggle of hippies wearing Grateful Dead T-shirts, hemp necklaces, and cargo pants take in the night air.
Joel shakes his head. “Fucking hippies.”
“Hey, what’d you say, man?”
“I said I hate hippies, asshole! Sure, you get high every day, but you act like that's gonna lead somewhere, like it’s gonna solve all the world’s problems! You self-righteous pricks!”
Bill is occupied by his phone call, and gets into his truck.
“Here!” Joel kicks off his sneakers. “Take my shoes, you poor fucks! Take ‘em!” Joel turns and gets into the truck, as the hippies look at him in shock as he takes off.
* * *
Five beers later, somewhere on the edge of Rhode Island, Joel feels his bladder swell. “Oh god. Bill, pull this heap over. I gotta drain.” He begins shaking his leg.
“Hold on, guy. We’re on the highway.”
“I’m serious, Bill. My piss is already filling my dick.”
“Alright sweetheart. I think I see a spot up ahead.”
Bill pulls over, and Joel springs out of the truck. He fumbles for his zipper, but it’s stuck on a piece of fabric. Suddenly, his muscles relax, and the urine drains out of him. He gives up the struggle with his zipper, and lets that feeling of relief wash over him in a wave that can only be described as awesome.
* * *
“Do you think I give too many speeches?” asks Jack, as he and Donnie pull into the KYJ parking lot.
“Nah, I’m just saying you should focus your attention more on girls than on young townies like Sean Finnerty.”
“But I’m so good with those kids. I just want to have my own army of loyal followers… I want minions.”
Donnie shakes his head as he parks the car. “That’s just a means to an end, guy. You need to just skip right to the end.”
“But how, Donnie? How can I be more like you?”
“Look Lyons, I’m not special. I’m just… very aggressive when it comes to women. Everything I know about picking up chicks… I had to learn.”
“No, Donnie, you’re a natural.”
“No I’m not, Lyons. It’s taken a lot of work, and a lot of learning to do what I do. I focus on those girls that are looking for all the same things I’m looking for: sex. And if they want more than that, well, they usually don’t want anything to do with me.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, Joel and Bill pull up in the KYJ parking lot. Bill exits the cab and approaches Donnie and Jack. “What’s up, kids? You ready for this shit, or what?”
Donnie nods at Bill, then looks at the shoeless Joel Riggins. “What happened to you?”
“Ah, I gave my shoes to some hippies…”
“And your pants?”
“…And I pissed myself.”
Donnie chuckles as he tosses the non-essential contents of his pockets into his car.
The boys walk up the front steps to the strip club. Donnie slaps Jack on the back as he walks through the doors. “Let’s see these whores.”
* * *
Joel, Donnie, Bill, and Jack all mill around at the front entrance, taking in the atmosphere of the rowdy strip club as they get their ID’s checked by the bouncer. Joel, hoping that no one will notice his missing shoes, sees the white glow of his socks shining up at him under the bar's black lights.Bill is taken aside by a blonde stripper with dread locks, Donnie goes to the bar to get a pitcher of Bud Light, and Jack finds a row of seats in front of the stage. Joel makes a beeline for the basement bathroom to dry the front of his pants with some towels. By the time Joel returns to the stage, Donnie and Jack are already there, making the occasional side-comments and wise cracks while keeping their focus on the dancers.
Joel takes a seat next to Jack. “The bathroom floor was flooded, guy. My feet are soaked.”
“I still don’t get why you gave your shoes to hippies.”
“It was the heat of the moment, Lyons. What can I say?”
A stripper makes her way over to Joel, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Are you ready?” she asks.
Joel looks at Donnie, who’s laughing to himself. “You asshole, Donnie.”
The stripper takes Joel by the hand and leads him downstairs, past the bathrooms, to the private dance section. Joel sits down uncomfortably in front of her, and as she glances at the wet spot on his pants, he responds, “Oh, I ah… spilled a beer…”
* * *
Two and a half minutes later, Joel returns. “I hate you,” he says to Donnie.
“C’mon, was it really that bad?”
“Let me tell you something: That was one of the most awkward, and mutual uncomfortable lap dances in my, or anyone else’s life. Look at me. I’m soaked in piss, and you buy me a lap dance. You prick.”
Donnie laughs.
* * *
The night wears on. Joel steps up to the bar. “Yeah, I’ll take four shots of Yeager.” He looks at the bored waitress next to him. “How you doin’ sweetheart?”
Across the bar, at the stage, Donnie and Jack are watching a stripper make her way towards them. Jack holds out a dollar bill, as she begins to flex and twist her limber body in front of him. She slides her chest over his face, pushing his hair upwards.
“Look, even his hair has an erection!” Donnie shouts. The dollar bill in Jack’s hand goes limp, as does the lump in his pants.
“C’mere,” says Donnie, as the stripper finishes her dance for Jack and tucks his bill into her G-string. “What’s your name?” he asks.
“Destiny,” she says back.
“Listen, I’ll give you five dollars for your thong.”
Destiny looks at her pink underwear. “But I’ve been wearing this all night.”
“Three dollars.”
Back at the bar, Joel downs the last of four Yeager shots. He signals the bartender. “Lissen… I need four…” He looks at the empty shot glasses in front of him. “Yeager shots… for me an’ my buddies.”
“Really? You’re not gonna drink them all yourself this time?”
“No… honest…”
“I’d like to see these friends of yours.”
Joel’s tiny, raccoon eyes scan the stage. He watches as Donnie wipes his hand along a stripper’s stomach, and licks the sweat off his palm. Even the stripper is disgusted.
* * *
Minutes later, Joel is back at the stage next to his boys, holding the hand of a stripper as he flirts with her.
“That’s a cute outfit,” he says to her. “I’m glad I changed before I came her tonight, or things would have been real awkward.”
“Oh really? You usually wear garter belts and lacey underwear?”
“Only to bed, sweetheart.”
“You are too much, Joel.”
Joel coyly turns his cheek and smiles. She slips her hand out of his, and goes about her routine table dance. As she contorts her body in seemingly impossible positions, Joel can’t help but make snarky commentary. “Ooo, there ya go, sweetheart.” He nudges Jack. “Can your girl Emily do that? God knows I can.”
The stripper chuckles, as she grinds her self up against Joel’s face. She whispers something in his ear, to which he responds, “What? And get arrested?”
And so it goes. Unlike most frequenters of strip clubs, Joel and Donnie are by far the most talkative. Donnie with his endless negotiations, and Joel with his endless stream of one-liners and self-deprecating humor. It isn’t long before Bill returns from the private dance rooms, and nudges Joel.
“Let’s hit the bricks, Riggins.”
Joel checks his phone. “It’s only twelve thirty.”
“So? I’m tired of this tease. C’mon. Let’s get some hookers.”
Joel reluctantly agrees. He looks around. “Lyons, what happened to Donnie? He was here a minute ago.”
Jack looks around. “Umm, I think he went downstairs with that Mediterranean stripper.”
“Alright. Me and Bill are gonna head out, so…” he shakes Jack’s hand. “Tomorrow? Around noon?”
“I’ll see ya there, buddy.”
* * *
Minutes later, Joel and Bill take off, leaving Jack sitting on the trunk of Donnie’s car. He sits there, periodically checking his phone, for a half hour. By 1 AM, Donnie strides out of the club, shaking his head. “Man, I’m telling ya. I love Mediterranean women.” Donnie unlocks the car, and Jack gets in. “How long have you been waiting here, guy?”
“A half hour, you asshole.”
“I’m sorry, guy. I was talking with that stripper for like… twenty minutes. I only got two dances from her, ‘cause we spent so much time talking.” He stops next to the car, on the passenger side. “Hold on, I gotta take a piss.”
Jack looks away as Donnie starts up. “Turns out she likes the Dead, and none of the mainstream stuff, either. Like the obscure shit that only a true fan would know about. And you know what she called spaghetti sauce? Gravy. I wanted to melt.” His pissing continues.
“Lyons!” he shouts. “Check out this arc! It’s perfect!”
“Okay Donnie, I trust you,” says Jack, still averting his eyes.
“Hey! Look at me when I’m talking to you. Look into my eye.”
“Donnie, you’re an asshole.”
* * *
Meanwhile, Joel and Bill are cruising down the back roads of Rhode Island. “So where to now?” asks Joel.
“Providence.” Bill pulls out the eight ball of coke. “Gag ‘em and tag ‘em.”
NEXT: SMASH NAP!
