Ribbons Read Online Free PDF Page A

letter.

 
     
     
    4
     
     
    Foster adjusted his glasses and watched Candice work. The glasses always seemed to sit at an odd angle on his nose. He wasn’t sure if the nose pads needed adjusting or if his ears were just crooked. The glasses were the same ones they issued him in prison, and he was kind of embarrassed to go in to ask for an adjustment at the local Lens Hut. They might ask him where he’d gotten them.
    Candice looked like an angel. Meaning she was actually wearing angel wings. They were the kind you might find at a Halloween costume shop. She wasn’t wearing much else. Her white lace bra was puddled on the ground at the back of the stage, lost in the darkness now. She had shot it back there like a rubber band. Green bills had fluttered onto that stage like falling leaves. Now she was working up to her big finale. She turned her back to the audience and slowly bent over. Just as slowly, she pulled her thong over her hips, down her thighs, and around her ankles. Then she straightened and grabbed the pole, one arm low, one high. With a kick, she flipped herself upside down so that she faced the crowd. She paused, letting the crowd wonder what came next. Then her legs spread apart to match her wings.
    To Foster’s surprise, he wasn’t hard. Not even a little. He had seen the act many times before. He was more into watching the crowd. There was a rhythm to it, aside from the driving beat coming through the sound system. When Candice bent over, the crowd leaned in. When she kicked, they all leaned back. When she slid off the pole, hands flew out and more bills fluttered down. She was a conductor.
    The lights dimmed and Candice wrapped a white satin robe around herself. The next dancer was already heading to the stage. A couple of guys noticed Foster in his janitor’s jumpsuit. They were obviously drunk, but it probably didn’t matter. They were cruel and horny and needed some kind of release.
    One of them had a goatee that was dyed blond. “Oh man, look at this guy. I bet he has to polish the pole every night.”
    The second guy covered his mouth, but it didn’t do much to hide his snorting laugh. Between grunts, he managed to add, “All three inches of it.”
    It was the obvious joke to make. Foster pretended not to notice and pushed his cart forward. Stuff like that really bothered him. He knew it shouldn’t, but it always did. Trying not to think about it just made him think about it more. Sometimes, a rage built up in him out of nowhere. Sometimes he got so depressed that he took sleeping pills just to make the day end earlier. He was floundering between the two when Candice stopped in front of him.
    “Hey, Foster.” Her smile made him feel like he was part of something. Not much, but something.
    “Oh, hey, Candice. Nice show.” He meant it. He knew she practiced to get it right.
    She must have seen Mr. Goatee and Mr. Snort watching. They were in the back row, which meant they didn’t tip much. She touched Foster’s arm and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. He supposed she meant well, but that only made him feel more uncomfortable. She slowly and deliberately gave the two in the back row the middle finger. Which probably only made them more excited. Then she turned to head backstage.
    As she left she added, “Watch out for the boss.”
    Foster pushed his cart forward again, but his eyes followed Candice as she disappeared behind the stage. Then a hand grabbed his cart.
    “Yeah, watch out for the boss!” It was the boss.
    Foster stopped short. His boss always looked overdressed for the Tail Spin. His suits were too formal, and the white at his temples made him look more distinguished than lecherous. He might look right at home dealing cards at a casino. He’d told his employees to call him Sam, but Foster always called him sir.
    “Sorry, sir!”
    Sam gave him an intent look, as though he was considering something. Then he raised his eyebrows and tilted his head with a smile.