Chapter three. The strip club.
Jude felt pity for her boss. And not little!
Tommy was sitting in the middle of the G-Major's lobby, behind a long desk, covered by a white tablecloth that went all the way to the floor, looking miserable. On his right sat Laura, and on his left sat Darius. Microphones were in front of them, reporters were tossing question after question, so fast that Jude wondered if they even wanted answers, or just facial reactions. Laura and Darius had their perfected smiles plastered on, making Jude ponder if they were actually happy, or just damn good actors. Tommy seemed as if he were attending a funeral. The topic of the press conference was Tommy's and Laura's wedding. Darius had found it a good idea to show off how happy the newly wedded couple was by presenting them to the reporters like a treat to a dog.
"Mr. Quincy," some reporter asked, "Is it true you only married because Mrs. Reed is pregnant?"
"No." Tommy had a habit of answering in the curtest way possible, with his face being as unresponsive as he could manage without falling asleep.
"Mr. Quincy," someone else asked, "Are you planning on having a big ceremony soon?"
"No."
"Mr. Quincy…" It went on.
When Tommy spotted her in the crowd next to the reporters, where interns and other G-Major staff members were watching the whole scene, Jude offered him a sympathetic smile. She mouthed an honest 'sorry' but doubted he had been able to identify it as that. She felt the Blackberry that Tommy had given her vibrating.
"Firealarm. NOW!"
Those were the words she received. Looking back to Tommy, she found him stealthily nodding at her, trying to prove he was serious about it.
Jude typed back. "No. False alarm is illegal!"
She saw him glaring at her and wanted to know how he managed to do that without pulling every reporter's attention to him. "DO IT! Or I'll fire you!" He wrote back. Figuring her job was more important than the federal law concerning the use of fire alarms, Jude walked to the side of the lobby, and pulled deftly on the bright red hook with the warning 'Use only in the event of fire'. Instantly, a deafening serene went off. Jude once again found her cell vibrating. "Car. ASAP!" Following suit, she hurried towards his car, which she knew was parking in the back of G-Major and not in the parking lot like usually. Wait – had he planned this?
Leaning against the hood of the car, with her jacket in hand, she watched how most of the people inside G-Major unhurriedly left the room through the emergency exit doors. They were laughing, speaking on their phones, and had most of their belongings with them. If this had been a real fire, plenty of them would be burned by now!
"Get in," Tommy called as he came sprinting towards the car, whose doors he unlocked with one of those fancy remote keys she found so cool. "Hurry, before they catch us!" On his last meters he swiftly put on his leather jacket, and his shades before jumping into the Viper without opening the door, just like Tom Cruise would in Mission Impossible. Jude had always admired men who could do that. It was one of those bad guy-gestures that in her weak little moments she found plain hot.
"Where are we going?" She put on her own jacket. It was only January and truthfully, she'd prefer riding his H2, or the Porsche, or any other non-convertible car! Why was he even having the roof open? Stupid poser!
"Somewhere far away from here. I was thinking a strip club?" Tommy grinned as he turned the heating on full force – instead of closing the damn roof! – making it a serious, but bold suggestion.
Jude's eyes grew small and defensive. She had come to learn that this facial expression – the daring, outrageously suggestive look – was meant to irritate her and remind her of how young and immature she still was, but occasionally she could reply with her own shocking remarks. "If you think I've never entered a strip club before, you're enormously mistaken!"
That got a laugh from him. "A strip club it is, then."
With most of her friends being male, her first strip club experience had come at the age of seventeen when her best Spied had turned eighteen and had celebrated in one. Some of his other friends, all male, had mistaken her for one of the strippers, and it wasn't until Jude had stepped on stage to announce the opposite and declare everyone inside the facility a moron that the barkeeper had kicked her out. Feeling no need to tell Tommy about that, she instead focused on more current topics. "Why didn't you just end the press conference? Or say 'no' to it in the first place? The whole fire alarm-thing was a little over the edge!"
"First," he exclaimed proudly, "It worked! And for the rest: Going against a press conference would have only caused more drama with D and Laura. Things are working for now." They hadn't fought in four days! At least not so much as before. "I'm not going to risk another gray hair by speaking up."
Jude started giggling. Her eyes searched his head, more precisely his hair. "A gray hair? Poor you, getting old already!"
"Make fun of me and I'll drop you off on this street and leave you!"
"Why'd you bring me in the first place?"
"As an alibi." The way he said it made it seem as if it should have been obvious.
Jude only rolled her eyes.
"Laura won't believe I did something 'wrong' when I have you with me."
"And it's not crossing her mind you could do something 'wrong' with me?" She mocked his deliberate intonation of the word 'wrong'. He had said it so strangely that Jude wanted to scoff. In Tommy's mind, 'wrong' and 'really wrong' were two entirely different things. Cheating, lying, flirting with someone other than his wife, and a whole lot more were labeled just 'wrong'. 'Really wrong' were things like killing someone, or stealing a little child's candy. Sleeping with another woman while the wife waited at home was just a harmless 'bad boy'-thing, and nothing morally questionable! Jude had yet to get used to that kind of thinking.
Tommy meanwhile thought about Jude's question. Could he do something wrong with his intern? "Honestly," he admitted with a bit of surprise, "that idea never even crossed my mind!"
Ouch, she wanted to say.
"Tom," The barkeeper of 'Gilligan's Island of the Naked Girls' greeted them excitedly when Tommy and Jude entered the club. "Didn't expect you to come back soon! How's married life?"
"I'm here," Tommy simply replied, causing the other man to laugh. He poured in a few drinks, waved over some naked women, and then stepped towards Tommy and Jude, greeting the latter with a bow. "You're here to apply?"
Jude's arms crossed defensively, and a sharp glare hit the barkeepers mustering eyes. "No!"
"Too bad. We're always looking for some good background girls."
Tommy was about to define her as his assistant, when Jude stepped up. "Background? If I worked here, I'd be the leading sensation!" She straightened up smugly before walking over to one of the booths to sit down to watch the show. Tommy and Phil, the barkeeper/owner, only looked after her in amazement, their eyes less on her back, and more on her butt. "Feisty one," Phil commented.
Tommy chuckled. "You have no idea!" He had quickly learned that Jude had serious issues with letting other people tell her what she could and couldn't do, but that she had the guts for a remark like that even impressed him. After all, she was only eighteen.
Jude watched in boredom how Tommy finished his third beer. "Why aren't you with your wife?" She hoped he wouldn't shut down, or leave her here by storming off. He hated talking about his private life, which was why she was so little surprised he had fled from the press conference.
"I can't spend every second of my day with her," he admitted silently, watching the show half-heartedly. "I'm not the kind of person who can stay with only one person for several hours without getting tense. Kwest – that's different. We don't talk all the time, or stuff like that. But with Laura, I feel like I'm obliged to entertain her whenever we're together. That's exhausting."
"You don't entertain me," Jude pointed out. She and Tommy had worked together for a lot of hours by now, and she hadn't had the feeling that she was annoying him, or even stressing him. Then again, she wasn't his wife, and so maybe he was but never let it on.
Tommy had noticed, too, how easily it was to be around Jude. Truthfully, it had surprised him when he had realized so the first time. She was funny, and entertaining without even trying, and when they were not talking, but simply working in the same room in silence, it still wasn't weird. But, he wasn't willing to put too much thought into that, maybe even afraid of what he might find out if he did. So instead, he shrugged it off and explained it in the only way possible. "You're like Kwest."
Jude huffed. Again, ouch!
This time Tommy saw Jude's unhappiness, though. "What? Comparing you to one of my closest friends annoys you?"
"No," Jude quickly declared. Damn, she hadn't wanted him to notice that slip of her mind! "It's just…you just compared me to a guy!"
"To a friend," Tommy corrected.
"A male friend," Jude recalled.
"I don't get the point."
"I'm a woman!"
"Apparently," he agreed. No man he knew would be offended by being called a friend!
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He groaned, letting his head fall back in frustration. "I don't know, Jude. You're pissed off and blame me for it! What did I do?"
"I don't like being compared to a guy! I'm a girl and I'd appreciate if you remember that every once in a while!"
"If you expect me to buy you flowers or some shit like that, I can assure you I'm not even doing that for my wife! You only work for me, but I just called you a friend. Why are you making a scene right now?"
In that moment one of the topless waitresses brought another beer for Tommy, and a new diet coke for Jude. "Hey!" Jude stopped the woman, having never been shy before when it came to finding support. The girl was a very pretty brunette called Nicole. Her nametag was pinned to a deep purple satin bra with feather applications, that didn't cover anything of her breasts, but merely raised them up to make them even perkier. Nicole looked at Jude in surprise. "If a guy says you're like his male friend, what would you do?"
"Pour a drink over his head," Nicole stated nonchalantly before leaving again. Jude grinned in victory, while Tommy made a face as if she had just grown a second head.
"You're – I don't even know what you are!" He had never been good with women. He could charm them up to no end, but actually understanding them? "You know what? You're not like Kwest! You are nowhere near Kwest!"
"Thanks," Jude quipped, not hearing the offense. "That's all I wanted to hear!"
"Better order me another beer. You got me a headache," he mumbled.
"I'll even get you aspirin," Jude sweetly told him. "I just need your keys first."
"No."
"How are you planning to go home again?"
"Inside a car."
"A cab," Jude advised.
"My car," he corrected. He pulled out his keys and held them up. "My car and I are driving home together. Period."
"No way. You're only a few drinks away from being completely wasted, and I'm not letting you drive drunk. If you're dead, my job would be gone!"
"Damn, you're caring!" Trying to win the staring contest she was engulfing him in, he glowered at her the most threatening way he could muster. Suddenly Jude leaned forward, chastely pecked his lips so quickly that he barely noticed it, and leaned right back again. When his mind finally snapped out of its daze he found his car keys missing.
Jude was sitting in her spot again, grinning, playing with his car keys. "I can't wait to take you home…"
"What the hell just happened?"
Jude shrugged. "Stole your keys."
"No, I mean the kiss." For reasons that right now were out of his grasp, he was angry with her for doing so.
"Don't make a big deal out of it. It was merely a peck, and I only did it to confuse you. I say it worked," she cockily boosted. "By the way, you're not even my type!"
The carelessly thrown comment had him completely forgetting that a fully naked woman was practically getting off on stage just then. Not that he had paid a lot of attention to the show to begin with. Between being angry with her for having kissed him and being confused for being called the wrong type, he murmured an irritated, "Not your type?" He was every woman's type! "Define your 'type' for me, will you?"
Jude couldn't believe he found it so important, but it was either answering him, or focusing on the woman that had just begun to hump the pole on stage. "Nice. Attentive. He has morals and values," she added, trying to get her message across. He had flat out told her it was most likely he'd cheat on his wife. That pretty much made him 'un-dateable' to her.
"I do have moral values." He had not missed the message. "I'm not a heartless asshole!"
"Gee," Jude defensively exclaimed, now regretting she'd brought that up. "I wasn't trying to offend you! You asked, I answered. And, you're really having high morals when you cheat!"
"Says the girl who just kissed a married man."
"It was a chaste peck with no other meaning than to keep you from killing yourself!"
"Seriously, I'm having a headache. Screw it, just bring me home in one piece, and then you can take the rest of the day off."
"Will do. You want me to call ahead, and inform Laura you're on your way?" Jude's lips curled upwards as she was enjoying his suffering. "Maybe she'll await you in a kinky nurse costume. The stripper from before left hers on stage. Maybe you can borrow it!"
"Shut up," he snapped, and held his aching head. "Please!"
"You really do have a headache, don't you?"
"Yes." He couldn't even express his chagrin with another tart comment. He just wanted to leave.
Jude sat at Tommy's PC, biting her lip as she read the email.
"Hey Handsome,
I'm sitting at home, waiting for you to come back from work. I know you'll be gone for some more hours, but you should know that right now I'm wearing nothing but that thong with the small bow in the back – you know, the one you like to undo with your teeth. I'm watching that special little movie you and I made on our wedding night while my hands keep itching to tou–"
Jude abruptly stopped reading. Looking away, shuddering, she fought hard to rid her mind of images of Quincy's naked, aroused wife. The mail had arrived two minutes ago, so chances were Laura was still horny and waiting for her hubby. Jude pressed Print.
"Deal with it!"
Jude rolled her eyes as she tried pushing the printed mail into his hands. He was in the middle of a recording session and looked annoyed. "I can't deal with this, cause it's a mail meant for you. Just read. Please!"
He roughly pulled his headphones off. "Harrison, I'm in this studio for six hours straight, working my ass off to get this incompetent moron of a guitar player to play a melody the way it's meant to be played, which," he snapped into the intercom, "he'd do if he knew how to read notes!" Tommy looked at Jude again. "I'm paying you to deal with my mail, so deal! Got it?"
"You seriously want to read—"
"I seriously don't," he retorted. "Get lost, write a fitting reply, and that's it."
"You—"
"Leave, Harrison. Now."
She sighed heavily as she strolled out. Fine. He wanted her to reply accordingly. She could do that.
Back in front of the PC, Jude stretched out her hands, cracked her knuckles and got to work…
"To my hot-blooded Babe,
I'm stuck in the studio. Not all people are as gifted on the guitar as I am."
The best way to impersonate Quincy, Jude thought, was to be as preposterous a jerk as one could be.
"But why waste this feverish moment of yours, even though only my mind can be with you. Imagine my teeth nipping ever so teasingly on that little bow of your thong. Can you feel the heat of my hot breath fanning that porcelain back of yours? My lips are tingling as I'm imagining it. As I'm watching this untalented boy ruining his guitar in his attempts to play it, my fingertips long to play with something on their own – or rather, play with something of yours. Can you feel me, gently caressing the inside of your thighs, tickling, teasing, arousing? Can you? Cause I can certainly feel you responding to me…
Gotta go. Don't put on clothes. The thought of you awaiting me like this keeps me thriving to call it a day."
Jude smiled. Perfect. She pressed 'Send' and leaned back. If that didn't do some good for Quincy's marriage, then what else would?
"Is there anything you want to tell me?" Tommy was sitting behind his desk the next day, the PC on, the screen directed at Jude, who was confused as she closed the door behind her.
"Um…I'm sorry for changing your desktop wallpaper?"
"I got home late last night, tired and exhausted. A day of listening to an idiot raping his guitar can do that to a guy! But instead of a nice, relaxing evening, I entered the apartment only to find my naked wife sitting on the couch in my living room, angry and somewhat sexually frustrated. Stupid me for wondering out loud in that moment what was going on. See, the average husband might have just used the opportunity. Some other guy would have just stripped down, maybe tossing out a few words like 'oh, nice thong' or something, but you should know me better by now: I'm far from average. I didn't use the opportunity. Neither did I understand why she hit me with a shoe – a five-inch heeled Chanel Pump, if you must know – when I unintelligently pointed out that I had not written an email to her when she held up her notebook and pointed it at me accusingly. So Jude, let me ask again: Is there anything you want to tell me?"
Jude walked up to the desk, tugged a sheet of paper from between other sheets of paper and held it up in front of him. "You told me to reply fittingly. I did. Poetically even, I might add. Have you ever heard of the term 'Just go with it?' It'd have done you good last night."
"Next time you and my wife exchange dirty mails, tell me about it, so I'm informed!"
"I tried telling you!"
"Not hard enough!"
"Any harder and you'd have had a bump on your forehead!" She then noticed that he, already, had a bump on his forehead and started laughing. "Laura has quite the aim, huh?"
"Very funny. Ha. Ha. By the way, she thinks someone hacked into my email account, cause that's the story I had to come up with to cover for you and your aspiration of becoming a writer for porn!"
"So she doesn't know it was me?"
"No. You're welcome, by the way." He turned the screen back, scrolling through the mail until he found what he was looking for. "'Not all people are as gifted as I am.' I'm hoping for your sake that's not sarcasm."
"On the guitar," Jude corrected. "I said, not all people are as gifted as you on the guitar! Big difference."
"Same crap." He switched the screen off and grabbed the guitar not far from him. "Just so you know, I am gifted on the guitar!"
"I know. I never said you were gifted otherwise." With a smirk she left the room, leaving him and his grumbling behind.
"Hey, wait," he called after her, guitar in hand. "That's my favorite Gibson. You want to play it?"
"Why don't I like where this is going?"
"Apparently, Laura liked the idea of dirty-mail-exchanges. She wants to try it for real. With the real me. Be me again."
"Quincy, she's your wife. From the mail I read last night I found out more about her than I know about all people I know, combined! Apparently, you guys are into amateur porn. Let's strike a deal: I get to sell the tape on eBay, keep the cash and then you can come and ask again. As odd as it must be for you to hear this, my life does not revolve around your sex life. Writing of you and your equipment doesn't make my day."
"You did it last night."
"To teach you a lesson."
"Lesson learned. You're a good writer!"
She wanted to hit him. Was he being ignorant on purpose? "No."
"Why are you so snappy all of sudden?" He blocked her way, cornering her. "What's wrong?"
"You really want me to be you? Okay. Here goes: 'Hey Babe, let's have sex. In and out. It won't take long!' Are you sure you want me to write that?"
As he was listening to her more than inaccurate impersonation of him, he also realized they were attracting an audience. "That way," he said and nudged her towards a deserted part of the hallway. "Seriously, what's wrong? Yesterday you had fun posing as me, and today you're all mad at me? What happened?"
"Nothing," she mumbled. It wasn't a lie. Nothing had happened, which actually was the problem. Last night, she was spurned on by her wish to teach Tommy a lesson but now he was asking her to write sexual letters to his very experienced wife. It was turning from a one-time funny thing into an actual thing. Problem was, she was a virgin and so her knowledge of sex was limited to movies and the occasional internet porn she came across when visiting her male friends. What if that would show?
Tommy took a step closer, whispering, "I'm not asking you to get too dirty with her. Just some heavy flirting via mail."
"No, okay?"
He nodded, but remained confused. "Okay."
"So, there's anything particular you want me to do today?"
"Write emails?"
She hit his shoulder. "Quincy!"
He couldn't help but laugh.
Meanwhile Kwest was coming out of Darius' office, his boss right behind him. When both stopped to take in the scene of the bantering couple, Kwest shook his head.
"I don't like this," Darius stated. "They get along too well. The last time he became friends with a girl, it was followed by his divorce, the end of Boyz Attack and a tragic death."
"I know," Kwest agreed. "I know…"