“But not a strip club like that,” Caddy said, smiling at Tashi.

“No,” Tashi said. “I guess not. I guess I’ve been to more like burlesque shows my friends were in. They’d dress up in retro lingerie and do routines to Billie Holiday or the Beastie Boys. Dixie Belles was a little more explicit. That show with those two girls in the canary cage . . .”

“It wasn’t a show,” Caddy said. “It was an anatomy lesson. Maybe I’m nostalgic, but I remember working the pole more in my day.”

Tashi smiled. “Did you have any favorites?”

Caddy played with the straw in her glass of Coke, looking up and shrugging. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I really responded to G N’ R. Anytime I took the stage, the DJ had me on a rotation of ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ and ‘November Rain.’ Oh, I did have this great routine to ‘Welcome to the Jungle.’ Oh, God. I found this leopard-print bikini and this necklace made out of bones that just made the men go crazy. That was something I only did on a hot night, when I knew the money was there. It was something kind of special.”

“Sounds like you didn’t hate it,” Tashi said. “At the time.”

“Are you recording me?” Caddy asked. “Because it’s a little difficult to explain.”

Tashi nodded, the microphone right there in plain view on the table. She carried it with her so much people forgot it was even on. Caddy looked like she might have changed her mind about talking about this stuff, her face changing a little bit in the bar light, looking over at a life-sized cutout of Vampirella, the sexy bloodsucking heroine. Tashi had seen one of the films at the Spectacle on cult movie night.

“Hold that thought.”

“What is it?”

Caddy Colson was already up out of her chair and headed to the bar. A dark-headed woman in her thirties leaned over it to talk to the bartender. The girl had on old Levi’s and a man’s white tank top, showing off a sleeve tattoo on her left arm. Her black hair tied up in a red bandanna like Rosie the Riveter. When she saw Caddy, she jumped up in excitement and wrapped her arms around her in a big embrace. Tashi stayed at the table, drinking her beer, still trying to come down from being in that club for the last hour. The bad music, the horrible smell of air fresheners and disinfectant, the live sex acts she’d watched performed on stage, would stay with her for a while. She reached for the shot of Jack Daniel’s and tossed it back. God, she hoped this story was headed somewhere.