Disclaimer: Standard
SENTINEL
She hated the job, but it kept body and soul together and let her take classes and go to auditions, although she was starting to realize that the job was making her too tired to pay attention in class and perform well at auditions, and that it was taking away tiny pieces of her soul. If she gave the bartender a smile she'd often get a free drink or, even better, several bottles of water. The sad eyed Hispanic and Asian men working in the kitchen tried to save food for the girls they liked as well as for their families. She'd said hello and thank you and goodbye in her high school Spanish to some of the men, and they were so happy to hear kind words in something sounding like their own language that they treated her like a princess. One of them always saved her bananas. Another kept an eye on her and the back door open when she rushed out for a breath of fresh air. Some of them told her in broken English that she was too good of a girl to be working in a place like that. She suspected many of the men were illegals, but she knew they, like her, were only trying to make a life as best they could.
The bouncers were something else. Big men with bulging muscles and cruel mouths, they acted as if their size and skills entitled them to free drinks, free drugs, free food, and free girls. Some were ex cops who threatened the girls and the staff with arrests or worse. Some seemed to use physical violence for their apparent enjoyment of it. The one called Mike wasn't particularly vicious, but he walked through the bar with a royal sense of entitlement. She was certain he'd coerced some of the dancers into sex and was afraid it wouldn't be long before he turned his attention to her. She'd managed to avoid sleeping with any of the bouncers or the customers, but she was weakening. It wasn't just the money she could make; it was that life at the bar might get a little easier. She worried that sooner or later giving in to someone would be necessary to keep the job and that she would turn to drugs to numb herself the way so many of the other girls had. Sometimes, as she dragged herself back to her apartment, she wondered if giving up her body would be that much worse than the way she danced in front of men every night.
She'd just arrived at the club one night when the boss called her and the other dancers into a meeting. She was afraid the meeting was to announce another scheme to take away part of their pay or another rule tearing away another part of their dignity, but the boss only warned them that he'd gotten word there might be police hanging around the club.
"Don't do anything they can get you on," the boss said.
"Yea," one of the girls next to her whispered. "Until he pays the cops off."
"One other thing," the boss said. "We've got a new guy working. He's a sharp guy. Tried to keep me out last night because I was carrying. This is Bobby."
A large, bear like man with graying hair and stubble stepped briefly out of the shadows. He was dressed all in black and trying not to make eye contact with anyone, especially with the dancers.
"That new guy is big enough to scare off a lot of bad guys," one of the girls commented as the meeting broke up.
"I wonder how long it'll take him to start asking for favors," another sighed.
"I don't think I'd mind giving him favors," another girl laughed.
Bobby never asked for favors. He was quiet and polite and professional, and he treated the workers and the dancers like human beings. When he caught one of the cooks letting her out for a breath of fresh air, both she and the cook were afraid he'd tell the boss or use the incident to extort something. But he just remarked that he occasionally needed a breath of fresh air too. Another dancer told her that Bobby saw her leave with a bag of fruit from the kitchen, and she was afraid for herself and the worker who gave her the food. Bobby simply commented it was good the food wasn't being left to rot. The dancers looked forward to when he worked the floor. He kept the customers in line and even managed to get the other bouncers to act a little more respectfully. He warned the dancers and the staff when he recognized cops, and everyone felt safer when he was around. Even the boss seemed in a better mood when Bobby worked the door or the floor. She noticed some of the bouncers were wary around him, but most took advantage of his good nature to leave him working while they disappeared into the back to grab a drink or score some drugs. She never saw him watching the dancers; the few times he looked in their direction he appeared embarrassed and somehow upset.
He wasn't working inside the night a patron started heckling her. The guy had given her trouble before, trying to buy her drinks and then yelling abuse when she turned him down. The other bouncers finally had to rush him outside when his remarks and volume began to discourage the other customers from buying drinks and tipping the girls. She was especially careful when she left the club, and was frightened when she saw the disgruntled man hovering on a street corner.
"Damn," she thought. "I need a cab…Now…Please…Please…" She saw the man start to cross the street, but hesitate.
"Kasey, right?" a deep, gentle voice asked from behind her. "Are you ok?"
She turned, and relief sweeping over her, saw Bobby. In the streetlight she saw that his chocolate eyes were full of concern. She hesitated. She scarcely knew this man, and the people she knew him to be around weren't strong personal references. But everything he'd done or said in her presence made her trust him and believe he was a good man.
"A guy gave me a hard time tonight," she said. "And he's over there."
Bobby was already scanning the streets and examining the man.
"They had to push him out," Kasey said. "He was mad…really mad…and…I'm afraid."
"I understand," Bobby said calmly. "I've got my car here…I'd be happy to take you home…If you want…"
"If you want" sounded a great deal like "If you trust me" to Kasey's ears.
"Yes…Yes…I'd appreciate that…If you're sure it's not…" she stuttered.
"It's not a problem," he said. "Not much going on in my life right now."
She threw a look over her shoulder at her tormentor as she walked away with Bobby, whose presence had effectively halted the man's progress across the street.
"Don't worry," Bobby said. "I've seen this guy…and plenty like him…He's essentially a coward. He won't do anything while I'm around…or when he sobers up."
He walked to his car, his hand hovering protectively just behind her. She knew very little about cars, but she saw that it was a handsome, lovingly cared for, classic. He opened the door for her and silently slipped into the driver's seat.
"I'm sorry," she said when she gave him her address. "It's not the best neighborhood."
"Not the worst, either," he responded.
He asked her a few questions as he drove. It had been a long time since she'd spoken to anyone about her life, and it seemed even longer since she'd spoken to anyone who seemed to care about her. Bobby was either a great actor or genuinely interested, but as they neared her apartment, Kasey waited for him to make some move to get in her bed, and a small part of her hoped he would make the move. In spite of his graying hair and beard, Bobby was an attractive man. When he stepped out of the car in front of her building, Kasey thought her half hopes, half fears might be realized, but he only walked her to the entrance.
"Here's my cell phone number," he said as he opened the door for her. "Call me when you're in your apartment so I'll know you're ok."
He watched her until she disappeared into the stairwell. She called his phone as soon as she was in the apartment. From the window she could see him standing guard by his car. "I'm ok…Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome," he answered. "Not a problem. Just let me know if you're in trouble. Let the other dancers know that too."
Over the next weeks, Bobby became the girls' quiet and gentle protector. He walked them to and from their buses, rides, and cabs, and frequently gave them rides. One girl received a frantic summons from a babysitter to pick up her daughter, and Bobby gave her a ride to the sitter and to her home and managed to cover for the dancer so that she didn't lose her job. When he was on duty while they danced, he skillfully patrolled the club and scrutinized the patrons while he studiously avoided watching the girls. Several girls reported that they'd invited him into their homes when he gave them a ride, but the only one who managed to get him to cross her threshold did so because they'd picked up her four-year-old son from his sitter on their way to her apartment. Bobby insisted on helping her get the boy inside. "And all he did," the mother reported with a mixture of admiration and disappointment. "Was help me get Aaron into bed and read him a story."
Everything was better for the dancers and the kitchen staff because of Bobby. He quietly directed some of the sad eyed men to organizations that could help them with their legal troubles and to reach their families. He pointed the dancers with kids to good, relatively inexpensive child care, and he helped the ones with dangerous boyfriends and husbands to people who aided them. Every night that he worked the floor, he was a sentinel guarding them. For many of the girls, he was the first man to treat them decently for long time; for some, the first to treat them decently in their lives. He quickly became the subject of speculation and hopes. Some of the girls wondered if his lack of interest in them indicated he was gay; other wondered if there was a lucky wife or girlfriend waiting for him. But, even as he asked about the girls' lives, he said nothing about his own, and he always seemed terribly sad and alone.
One evening Bobby drove Kasey and her roommate and friend Elle to the club.
"Look," he said. "I…There may be some trouble at the club tonight…" He handed them several sheets of paper. "Those are lists where you can find work if the club gets closed or something…They're not bad places…If you could give them to the other dancers if there's trouble…"
"What kind of trouble?" Elle asked, her eyes wide in alarm.
"Oh, it may be nothing," Bobby said offhandedly. "But…just in case…I don't want you guys to get hurt."
"Why," Kasey asked as he parked the car. "Why are you doing this? Why are you so good to everyone?"
He hesitated and ran one of his large hands through his graying curls. "Because…because you're…you're good people…Sometimes good people have to do things they don't want to do…But it doesn't make them bad people…"
The dancers were on edge that night, not only because of Bobby's comments, but because of other rumors and the fact Bobby wasn't working the floor. Just before the club's closing time, all hell broke loose. Cops, some in riot gear, flooded the club, but they showed surprisingly little interest in the fleeing patrons or stunned workers. "Just get out of here," a dark, curly-haired cop who seemed to be in charge told them. "We've got much bigger fish to catch tonight."
"So," Elle said to Kasey as they left the club. "I guess that list Bobby gave us will…Oh, God…"
The two young women watched as several cops unceremoniously dumped Mike and Bobby in the backs of two squad cars. A small, intense, blonde, female cop, a look of anguish crossing her face, stood on the sidewalk.
"No," Kasey muttered, one of her hands flying to her mouth. "I can't believe Bobby…"
"I don't want to believe it either," Elle said wearily. "But he is a guy…C'mon, sister…Let's go home and get some rest…And start our job search…"
Bobby's leads were good, and within a week both Elle and Kasey were employed at a much more respectable club. It was still dancing with few clothes on in front of men, but the pay was better, the men nicer and better tippers, and the management more benevolent. Kasey occasionally wondered what Bobby had done to warrant the NYPD's attention. One morning as she left work she was stunned to see his large frame standing outside the club's back door. His eyes were still dark and troubled, but his hair and beard were cut, and he wore an expensive, carefully cut suit. The security guard at the door examined Bobby carefully.
"It's ok," Kasey said. "He…He's a friend…"
Bobby smiled sadly. "Thank you…I wondered…if I could buy you a cup of coffee?"
"It's too late…or early…for coffee for me…But I could use some breakfast…or dinner…" Kasey smiled back at him.
They walked together in silence to the nearest all night diner. Bobby gave the waitress their orders—coffee for him, pancakes for her—and they sat in continued silence for several minutes.
"I guess," Kasey said. "The cops let you go…"
"Actually…" He pulled out his badge. "I am…at least I am now…a cop…"
Kasey's eyes widened. "You…you were undercover…"
"Yea…I'm sorry…"
"What are you sorry for?" Kasey asked. "You were nice to everyone. You helped everyone. We shoulda figured it out." She smiled wistfully. "Most of us…nearly all of us…are a lot better off because of you."
He stared into the depths of his coffee. "Uh…It's just that…Well…when you're undercover…It's like you're lying to people all the time…" He sipped his coffee. "I wanted you to know…Your ex-boss…He's a big time dealer, and he's facing some heavy time. It'll probably not go to trial. But there may be some questions for people who worked at the club."
Kasey rested her head on her hand. "It doesn't surprise he was a dealer…But I never saw anything. He kept it out of sight…In the back rooms. I never went back there…But some of the other girls…I know that Mike gave some of them drugs for sex…"
Bobby winced. "Yea…I was afraid of something like that."
The waitress, giving Bobby a warm smile, placed Kasey's food in front of her.
"You're not eating anything," Kasey said.
"I…I'm not hungry…"
He spoke sporadically as she at, warning her of what to expect if she was called as a witness and asking how she was. Kasey did most of the talking, telling him about the new job, about the auditions she went on, about her classes, about her and Elle's plans to move to a new and better place to live now that they had a little more money. She looked out the diner's windows, and, with a start, realized the sun had started to rise.
"I…I'm sorry," she said.
"It's ok," Bobby said. "I'm glad things are going well. Can I give you a ride home?"
The drive was silent. "You should come up," Kasey said as they neared her apartment. She sensed that this big, kind, gentle man was about to leave her life, and she wanted to prevent or at least postpone this event.
He gripped the steering wheel tightly, and a car left a parking spot in front of them.
"Look," Kasey said. "A spot…You're meant to come up."
He tapped a restless finger against the steering wheel for several moments. "Ok," he finally said.
As they walked up the stairs, she tried to remember if the apartment was clean.
"Elle's away for a couple of day," she said as she unlocked the door. "Visiting family."
It was a tiny apartment even by New York City standards. Bobby was fairly certain that one or both of the bedrooms were closets in a past life, and the kitchen could only be entered by turning sideways. But it was cheery and clean and the living room big enough to move comfortably in. Posters of shows and pictures of dancers—Astaire, Kelly, Nureyev, Baryshnikov, Charisse, WEST SIDE STORY, A CHORUS LINE, FOSSE—peppered the walls. Bright paper flowers filled vases on tables and equally bright throws and quilts covered the furniture. Kasey walked over to a small CD player, and the sound of Duke Ellington's band filled the room. She dropped her dance bag by one of the bedroom doors and smiled at Bobby.
"Do you dance?" she asked.
"I…I used to," he said. "My Mom…My Mom loved to dance…She took me to movies…Some people say she looked like the actress who played Anita in the film of WEST SIDE STORY…But since…It's been a couple of years at least since I danced with anyone…"
Kasey stepped closer to him. "I haven't danced with someone for a long time, either…For them…But not with them…" She held out her hands. "Would you dance with me?"
He hesitated, and then smiled sadly. "A beautiful young woman is asking me to dance. It's been a long time since I had such a wonderful proposal."
His large, soft hand enveloped hers. He rested his other hand at the small of her back in a move both sensual and innocent. At first, they awkwardly swayed to the music, but his body remembered the movements and steps, and he tentatively began to lead her. For such a big man, he was surprisingly graceful and tender. He drew her into his arms, and she leaned against him, her head nesting where his shoulder and chest muscles met. He lightly rested his chin on her head. His was big and strong and warm, and Kasey had never felt so safe. The song ended, and they stood motionless in the brief silence before the next one began. As it started, he pulled slowly and reluctantly away from her.
"You don't have to go," Kasey said.
He ran a hand through his hair. "Yes…Yes I do…I have to go to work…"
"At five in the morning?" Kasey shook her head. "Do cops start work that early?" She placed her hands on his chest.
"It's kind…very kind of you, Kasey…It's…It's wonderful…but…You're very beautiful and kind and young…and great…But…I can't." He looked at her, and the pain and gratitude in his eyes stabbed her in the heart.
"Is..is there someone else?" she asked after she recovered her voice.
He stared at a point on the wall behind her for several moments. "Yes…there is," he finally said. He smiled sadly and sweetly at her. "Thank you for the dance, Kasey…Thank you." He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.
Warmth flooded through her and her eyes blurred with tears.
Bobby walked to the door. "If you need anything…call me…" He pulled a card from his wallet and placed it on the small table near the door.
"Bobby…"
His hand rested on the doorknob. "Yea?"
"Thank you…thank you for treating us…Me…Like human beings…"
He opened the door, hesitated, and turned to her. "You…All of you…You're good…Remember that…"
She stood staring at the door long after he left.
END