REVISED / RE-EDITED 11/07/2022

"I put a cherry on top. Booyah!"- Pam Grier in Jackie Brown

CHAPTER 4

Decking herself out to the nines in the backseat of Mickey's car proved to be a more difficult undertaking than Rose anticipated. She managed to remove the clothing she was already wearing pretty quickly. It took no time at all to yank off her sweatshirt and socks. Wedging her shoulders up against the door and arching her back like a drawbridge to wriggle her ass out of her jeans wasn't the most elegant maneuver she'd ever executed, but she stuck the landing well enough. The real challenge presented itself when she attempted to slip into the couture Adrian hand-picked for her to wear that night. Put plainly, Dimitri just wouldn't let her do it.

Many of Rose's fondest memories involved the backseat of a car and Dimitri Belikov. They'd been going around together for three years now. Rose was seventeen and a virgin when they met, but only one of those things remained true for very long. He was the most gorgeous man alive as far as she was concerned, and keeping her hands off of him was damn near impossible. Being around all that virile masculinity, having it available for the taking, was intoxicating. Their chemistry was powerful and electric from the moment they first laid eyes on one another - the insanity was mutual. When it came to Dimitri, the girl just had to fucking have it. Given her tumultuous home life, and the fact that until recently he still lived with his mother and grandmother, a lot of the 'it' she had to have was passionately given and greedily received in the back of his '76 Ford SuperCab.

But tonight she was on the clock.

Dimitri was more or less on top of her since he climbed into the back at her request. Rose completely understood his current state of frustration. She'd been glued to her books studying for finals all week, so they weren't able to spend any 'quality time' together. She missed his touch just as much as he did hers. But right now she had to focus. Adrian was paying her a hell of a lot of money for not a lot of work, and she needed to keep her wits about her.

It was easier said than done. His presence always held such a corrupting power over her body. The sheer size of him around her, especially when they were naked, made her feel safe and dangerous all at the same time.

"Dimitri! Dimitri!? Baby…stop…Stop! I have to get ready. Heheheh…cut it out!" She had her backless Halston gold lamé gown pulled up to her waist, and that was as far as she could get it because somebody's hands were in the way. "I asked you to come back here so you could help me, not so you could mount me!"

Dimitri took a break from peppering her cheek and ear with kisses just long enough to defend himself. "I am helping you. You said you needed me to be your human shield. This is me shielding." He ran his nose along her décolletage. She was wearing a new perfume, something he didn't recognize, but it was nice - musky and spicy with bursts of orange and jasmine. The scent had an immediate effect on him. He surged forward to kiss her mouth, a kiss that was every bit as French as her perfume.

After a few minutes too many of passionate kissing with roaming hands and undulating hips, she managed to pull herself away, blocking any future attempts by pressing her palm over the lower half of his face. "Yes, I requested the services of a human shield, not a human bra. You have your hands plastered to my boobs while I'm trying to put on my dress." She pointed to her chest with her other hand. "How is this helping?"

Dimitri ducked his face away from her hand to speak. "I'm keeping them warm for you."

"Okay, job well done. Now move those hands, mister! Oooof!"

Dimitri granted her request by sliding his hands from her breasts down along her ribcage and back around to her rump. She squealed when he dug his fingers into her flesh and grunted in a most unladylike fashion when he boosted her off the seat and onto her knees in a straddling position over his legs. She could feel his excitement pressing through his pants against the bare skin of her thigh. His cock was as hard as her nipples were right now - it wasn't fucking fair!

"You guys, I'm right HERE!" Mickey's eyes were glued to the road while all of this sexy horseplay was going on in the backseat. So far he saw nothing untoward. A quick check of his rearview mirror as a driving safety precaution revealed a topless Rose with her back turned to the front of the vehicle. Dimitri was somewhere underneath her, but only his broad shoulders were visible. Unfortunately, he could hear everything with near-crystal clarity regardless of how loud he'd cranked up the radio to drown them out or how much they tried to whisper. Dimitri was back there growling like an apex predator at Rose, his baying and whimpering horny prey.

"See!? You got us in trouble with the teacher. Get your giant bear paws off my tits, or I'll bite you!"

"Mmmmmhmm, that sounds promising," Dimitri murmured licentiously.

He closed his eyes during that last bit of bawdy talk, unintentionally providing Rose with the opening she needed to slap his hands away and yank the top of her dress up - which she did before he realized his mistake. "Behave!" She scolded.

"I am behaving," he whined, "I'm behaving like a desperate man who hasn't seen you in four days! The first thing you did after climbing into this car was take off your shirt. You've put me in an impossible position here. You're a very cruel woman when you want to be, Nurse Hathaway."

"I'm not a nurse yet, but I do like the sound of that. Okay, if you can try to be a good boy right now, and if you ate all your vegetables at dinner, I promise I'll give you a very special treat later."

Dimitri narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. His expression was the perfect mixture of childish petulance and adult suspicion. This could be a trap - a vaginal snare for him to step in. "How special will this treat be?" He asked, curiosity winning out.

Rose did up the last button on the neck closure of her gown and brought both her arms back down with a flourish. Then she leaned in to whisper her answer, cupping both hands around her mouth to make sure the lascivious promise was for his ears only. The words barely fell from her lips before he replied a little too loudly -

"I'll be good!"

His boyish exuberance made her snort - frisky Dimitri rarely made public appearances like this. He was usually very private about the physical side of their relationship, keeping displays of affection to a minimum when they were around others. He must have done more drugs tonight than she thought. Or maybe it was more of the strange behavior he'd been exhibiting since buying the house. She was beginning to think a good long talk would be in order after a very good and deliciously long screw in his king-size bed. "I can play you like a fiddle, Dimitri Belikov."

Dimitri tried to speak as quietly as possible, gazing into her dark eyes. "I think the flute is more your instrument, Roza. You've always been very skilled with that naughty little mouth of yours." He slowly ran his finger over her bottom lip, leaving her shivering in his lap.

Unfortunately, one of the downsides of having a deep voice was that it had the tendency to carry no matter how softly he spoke. And Mickey had heard enough. "If you two don't knock it off right now I will turn this car around, so help me god! DON'T MAKE COME BACK THERE!"

"Yes, Dad." Rose sassed back over her shoulder before bursting out laughing. She buried her face in Dimitri's neck to try and calm herself down. Her gasping giggles soon became nuzzling and smooching. He always smelled so good to her, even when he was sweaty from the boxing gym.

"Rose…I'll give you the count of three to climb off of that man and to get back into your seat where you belong. One…two…"

"Alright, alright, I'm gettin', I'm goin'!" She lifted her right knee in the air, pushed off Dimitri's chest with both her hands, pivoted her body weight on her left knee, and landed with her butt back in its original seat. "Jeez, man. We were just making some time back here, no need to freak out."

"No one makes time in my car but me, okay, Rosemarie?"

"Well, then this poor car is never going to see any action, Mikhail Christopher."

"Seat belts!" Mickey barked at her.

"Really? Uhhhh!" Rose groaned. He was the one driving, so she obeyed even if she did think seat belts were only for children and squares like him. After her belt was clicked in place, she picked up her discarded sweatshirt and dropped it onto Dimitri's lap with another giggle. His lingering erection was still painfully visible through his tight slacks. She doubted he'd want to share it with the rest of the class.

"Thanks so much for that."

"Anytime, Cowboy."

Rose pulled a pair of gold leather sandals out of her bag and slipped them on her feet - fastening around her ankles with tiny diamante buckles, they had six-inch heels and two-inch platforms. They matched her dress perfectly and made her legs look like lethal weapons. The dress Adrian selected for her was definitely a little risqué, but not nearly as over the top as she'd feared. It was completely backless, exposing just a hint of butt cleavage. Her bosom was fully covered as it fastened around her neck with a thick strip of gold fabric resembling a collar. The skirt had a fishtail hemline with the back of it reaching her ankles and the front just barely covering her knees. The fabric flowed beautifully and gave the impression that her body was coated in gold-toned liquid mercury. The man could buy a damn ensemble, that's for sure.

She kept her hair in a long braid but topped it off with a slouchy cream-colored sequin beret. Her makeup would have to wait until she could get some light in there. Ordinarily, she didn't wear much of the stuff, but tonight it would be another layer of armor for her to wear into the battle of the sexes along with her fresh Jungle Red manicure. A brief glance out the window informed her they were about ten minutes away from the club. There was nothing to do now but wait.

She hated waiting.

Waiting led to nothin' but trouble.

She schooled her features to remain completely neutral and faced forward with perfect posture. Outwardly, she appeared on her best behavior, as promised. Inwardly she was still waging war with her hyperactive libido. Eventually, she gave into her baser nature and began walking her fingers over the bench seat before grasping around without looking until her small hand located Dimitri's huge one. Just a little touch never hurt anybody. She was very tempted to reach over a little further to undo his zipper and relieve some of his tension back there in the dark. Her hand job technique was quite good, and she knew with a little elbow grease she could finish him off in just a couple of minutes - provided he was game. But poor Mickey had already suffered enough tonight in his role as chauffeur. He didn't need to be subjected to the possibility of hearing Dimitri cum all over her hand.

They would have to settle for chaste hand-holding instead.

That car ride felt never-ending.

It just kept on going.

Over on his side of the seat, Dimitri was fighting a good fight of his own. Since Mickey shouted the words "seat belts" he began trying to will away his hard-on. Even holding her hand right now like a couple of kids on their first date to the movies felt illicit. He needed to get it together - tonight was going to be a long one and he needed to keep the blood flowing to his brain, not his cock. But why did she have to be so god-damned beautiful all the time?! Plenty of other women out there in the world were beautiful, too, but this was just ridiculous. He couldn't even fucking look at her now.

After exhausting a few different methods of desexualizing his thoughts with no success, Dimitri discovered that, oddly enough, repeating the theme song from the tv show M*A*S*H in his head was finally doing the trick. Somewhere along the way, he began to slowly sing it aloud. He didn't notice it, the lyrics just spilled out of his mind and into the car.

"Do-do, do-do, do, do-do… Suicide is painless / It brings on many changes / And I can take or leave it if I please…"

By the time they finally reached the club, Rose and Mickey were singing along with him, their voices low as they looked out their respective windows. It had a pleasant calming effect on them, especially after all the botched sexual tension and awkwardness.

"Do-do, do-do, do, do-do… Through early morning fog I see / visions of the things to be / the pains that are withheld for me / I realize and I can see…

do-do, do-do, do, do-do…"

It was a catchy fucking tune.

Mickey brought the car to a stop in the parking lot outside of Fat Sal's Lanes. The giant sign outside spelled the word BOWL vertically in illuminated white letters over red, blue, yellow, and green squares next to an enormous neon bowling pin boasting "20 Lanes Open 24hrs + Food and Cocktails."

The expansive building was classic brick, but the entrance to the bowling alley, which was located off the main road entirely and faced the parking lot in the back, was covered by a giant angular red metal awning that looked like something straight out of The Jetsons. It jutted over the two staggered flights of curved semi-circular cement steps which lead to the automatic sliding doors. The whole joint somehow managed to look both grand and tackey.

The Aura Club was right next door to Fat Sal's Lanes. The two businesses shared a massive basement as they were originally both part of a single factory building that covered the entire city block. The side of the building that was Fat Sal's was a single story in addition to the shared basement. The Aura Club was three stories in addition to the basement. They were also still attached on the ground floor by a narrow labyrinthian service corridor that could be entered through a door in the alley's kitchen and through one at the back of the club's coat check.

Because The Aura Club's entrance was located on the main street, it was entirely possible for those not already in the know to never realize the club and the bowling alley were the same place - and Adrian Ivashkov owned them both. He also had a loft apartment above the club that served as his office and art studio.

Rose mentioned still needing to apply her makeup, so Mickey made sure to find a space in the lot nearest a street light. The overhead light in his car wasn't the best, and he didn't want it to take her the next hour to apply eyeliner; then she would spend the following three hours bitching about the shitty light in his car. He had five sisters, he could spot potential conflict from a mile away…sometimes.

Other times he was still just a big dumb dope. "We're here, people! All ashore who's going ashore. Get outta my fucking car." Once the engine was off, he turned in the driver's seat to face his erstwhile passengers. "And Rose, you're never riding in here again."

"What did I do, besides use your full name?!" She demanded.

"You sprayed the backseat of my car like a cat in heat, that's what. Now the whole thing probably needs to be professionally cleaned to get rid of your pheromones." His hands gestured about wildly as he indicated various invisible splotches on his Naugahyde upholstery.

Dimitri looked a bit put out by Mickey's comment. He was the one who escalated their earlier behavior from affectionate to inappropriate this time, not her. If it was anyone other than Mickey saying this shit, he would have gotten confrontational on behalf of his lady. But it was Mickey. He and Rose had their dynamic worked out, and Dimitri learned over the years it was better not to interfere. Rose could rip the guy a new asshole if she felt like it.

"Well, first of all, shut up." Rose began. "Second of all, if anyone was spraying anything back here, it was Detective Grab-Ass over there!" She pointed emphatically at Dimitri. "I was just trying to get ready for the night. I can't help it if I'm a fine-looking woman who has to beat them off with a stick. It's my lot in life, Mickey. Speaking of which, I still need to put my game face on." She pulled her cosmetic case out of her giant duffle. "Which one of you is holding, and how soon can I have some powder for my nose while I finish my grand metamorphosis from a beautiful duckling into a beautiful swan?"

"He is. But don't get your hopes up. It's - well it gets the job done. Just don't expect the pharmaceutical grade you're accustomed to." Dimitri looked at Rose and pointed to Mickey. He still couldn't see her outfit in its entirety, but what he saw he liked. She was glowing in the dark.

"I don't think anyone gets the quality of drugs Adrian gets unless they have Adrian money to spend on drugs. I'll be fine. You two did some of it earlier, and you're still standing. Someone sort it out. I need to figure out how to apply eyeliner while holding a small flashlight between my knees." Rose waved off his warning as she began selecting various compacts, tubes, and brushes. She didn't give a shit if the stuff Mickey was holding was just straight talcum powder. She was feeling antsy, and the act of doing a couple of lines off the dashboard of a car sounded like just the thing she needed to get her head straight.

Dimitri took this as his cue. He got out of the car and circled to the front passenger seat, noting along the way that he'd probably run a mile around this car tonight playing musical chairs. Once he was situated, he reached into the backseat to grab Rose's bag. If they were doing this in the car with her, they would use her Diners Club card that Adrian paid for. Something about using an otherwise unused Library card for this purpose made him feel like more of a degenerate. He was about to put the bag back where found it, but something in it grabbed his attention.

"Uhhhh…Rose, what is this?"

Rose didn't look up from the tiny mirror in her left hand. She was busy smudging frosty eyeshadow over her lids with her finger. She really did have a tiny flashlight clenched between her legs, though it didn't seem to be helping much. "What's what? Get busy with the party favors, Cowboy."

"I'm talking about this, Rose. What the hell is this?!" Dimitri held up an object in the air for her to see while he shoved the Diners Club card into Mickey's hand. "You saw me do it earlier, now it's your turn."

Rose sighed, and then dragged her eyes from the mirror to see what Dimitri thought was so god-damned important that he insisted on interrupting her makeup routine. He was holding a six-inch roll of tree bark that was wrapped tightly but sparsely with red wool yarn and what appeared to be human hair. It had small bones, downy feathers, and a silver charm dangling from it. Dimitri shook it, and it made a similar sound to that of a maraca. This caught Mickey's attention, and now they were all three staring at the item from Rose's bag. "Oooohhhh, that. Yeva gave it to me when you first told her and your mother that I was going to start working at the club."

"Babushka gave you this?" Dimitri asked, surprised.

"Yep."

"Why would his Grandmother give you that hideous thing to work here?"

"She said it's for self-defense. I guess it's a magic thing." Rose said dismissively.

Mickey nodded as if that made enough sense to him, issued a "meh", and put his head back down to the task of cutting lines on an old issue of Playboy he had on his lap. Dimitri's grandma was some kind of Russian witch. He knew this since childhood, and he left it the fuck alone.

Dimitri examined the item as closely as he could in such dim light. It had the look of one of her charms. "What did she say it was for? How will this defend you, and from what?"

"She said I was supposed to carry it with me. It didn't have to be on my person, it could be in a bag or by my bed. Apparently, should a man ever try to 'touch me unwilling' it will make his cock shrivel up and fall off."

It took Dimitri a second to work out what she just said. "So this is a -"

"- an enchanted rapist dick remover? I guess so. I'm still unclear on how far a man would have to go for his touch to be considered "unwilling" enough on my part to activate the curse. I don't want strange men touching me at all, but I don't think it harms men for accidentally bumping into me on the subway." Rose went back to applying Indian Earth bronzing powder to her face in several strategic places.

Mickey glanced over at Dimitri who'd turned a little green around the gills. The guy just spent quite a bit of time groping Rose in the backseat, and she said "no" a dozen times or more, even if only in the most half-assed way possible. He was probably trying to assess the current status of his junk without actually going so far as to examine it right there. "What did you say to his Babushka when she gave that to you?"

Again Rose didn't look up. She was in her cosmetics groove and refused to allow a couple of boys to take that away. "What the fuck do you think I said? That woman is terrifying even when she's trying to do something nice! I said 'thank you so much, Yeva, for the magic penis eraser. I will cherish it, and carry it with me always.'"

"And?" Mickey asked.

"And then she snapped at me for not calling her Babushka."

Mickey burst out laughing. "How the hell did you keep a straight face when she gave it to you!? That's nuts!"

Rose looked at him through her eyelash-curling tongs. "Honestly, I was just super fucking relieved she didn't tell me it was some kind of traditional folk magic tampon from the old country that would make me fertile with many sons or something. Carrying that thing around in my purse and not my pussy is a piece of cake. Speaking of cake, Rose needs her candy. Are you done yet over there, Mickey?"

The tampon remark put an end to his laughter. "Yeah. I think I did okay. Should I hand this back to you?"

"I'll switch with Dimitri after he does his. I just need to put on my mascara and earrings, and then we can head out."

Dimitri pulled his silver straw out of his pocket and handed it to Mickey. Mickey leaned forward to the Playboy in his lap and did two of the lines in rapid succession - he wanted to get the hell out of this car and to go dig the happenings. Dimitri placed the magazine on the dashboard in front of him and did his lines right in a row with no recovery time, just like Mickey had. The two of them could smoke while Rose finished up there. "The rest is all yours, Roza. I need to stretch my legs." He climbed out of the car and was careful not to slam the door. Mickey followed him over to the street lamp.

Neither of them smoked regularly. Mickey's parents' leaving full ashtrays all around the house when he was a little boy almost succeeded in putting him off it for life. Dimitri's mother and two older sisters also smoked, but they were extremely diligent about keeping their homes free of any evidence of their habit aside from a faint scent in the air. His abstaining had more to do with his dedication to physical fitness. Most experts now agreed that smoking was bad for the lungs, and typically he didn't enjoy it enough to take the risk. Right now, though, a cigarette sounded pretty fucking good to both of them. They were both high, and nervous for different reasons. It was just going to be one of those nights where the rulebook was tossed out the window. Mickey pulled a pack of Lucky Strikes from his jacket, and they used one of his many matches to light up.

Back in the car, Rose finished her primping and relocated to the front passenger seat. The boys left four lines for her to do herself. They probably wanted her to catch up a bit so they were all on nearly the same level when they walked into the club.

She was glad she could finish her makeup before Dimitri had a chance to get a really good look at her face in the light. She and Janine got into a bad one before she went outside to wait for them to pick her up, and she now had a pretty sizable blue-green bruise on her temple. It was almost obscured by her hat, but not entirely. Bronzer helped a little, too. Dimitri was going to flip his lid when he saw it.

Rose took her time with the drugs. Now that she was on site and looking out of sight, her previous concerns about being late were waning. Adrian was never on time for anything, and she'd had no time to herself this week to just…be. She rarely got to just be Rose anymore.

She did a line and wondered why Dimitri hadn't asked her to move in with him now that he had his own house. A part of her had hoped that he purchased the place with her in mind, but maybe that was just her being self-centered. For all she knew, he was planning on breaking up with her. He'd been acting so strange lately. Apparently, he also gave a shit about baseball, now?

She did another line and thought about Janine. Her behavior had become increasingly erratic in recent months. She was violent and unpredictable at times, and her manic religious practices were beginning to disturb the other parishioners at St. Columbia's. As of this April, she was no longer allowed at the Cathedral Basilica of the Sacred Heart after she made a scene during the Palm Sunday Pipe Organ concert, and struck one of the volunteer ushers who tried to discreetly escort her from the premises.

She did her third line and thought about Adrian. Their relationship wasn't in the best place right now. She agreed to this ridiculous request for tonight for more than just the money. She didn't like to see people take advantage of him because he was a little crazy. He was just too sensitive to behave like most other people, and his current bout of painter's block wasn't helping any. He drank and did drugs to deal with his being too strong an empath. There were other ways to handle emotional and mental issues, healthier ones, but he'd been placed in a sanitarium as a child and now refused to even consider seeing a psychiatrist. He hated doctors and nurses and was very displeased at her choice to pursue a medical profession. He was also far more business savvy than people gave him credit for, he just didn't have the constitution to play hardball with assholes.

Rose Hathaway had been chucking balls at assholes her entire life.

She did her final line and tried very hard not to think about her father.

"Jesus, what took you so long, Rose? You said all you had to do was put on earrings and mascara. And you're not even wearing fucking earrings! How much mascara does a chick who's already hot need?" Mickey exclaimed as Rose emerged from his car and joined them under the light.

Dimitri was leaning against the lamppost, his cigarette long since stubbed out, ever the picture of calm even when his bloodstream was pumped full of drugs. Mickey had been pacing around and hopping from foot to foot like an excited little boy on Christmas morning. They were both impatiently waiting for Rose, but Dimitri was much better at masking his annoyance.

Rose didn't want to talk about any of the heavy things she'd been thinking over while easing in the drugs they left for her. She would address some of it with Dimitri when the time was right; that time certainly was not now. "Why, Mickey, I do believe all that pissing and moaning you're doing turned into an actual compliment for me! I finished my makeup in about two seconds. Just now I was in there looking through your issue of Playboy. It's from back in March, which is the month my birthday is in, so it got me a little curious. I'm assuming you bought it for the hot blonde posing in a car on the cover, but I found the Bob Dylan interview very interesting. He doesn't like being asked about his dark sunglasses."

"Shows how much you know! I've always wondered about Ralph Nader's opinions on sports."

"My sincerest apologies, I stand corrected." Rose falsely simpered. "For a minute there I was happy for your car that it has at least experienced you jerking off to porno mags in it, but I guess it is still just a virgin, huh?" She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Ha. Ha. Are you ready to go in now, or do you and Dimitri need to go find a tree or dumpster somewhere around here to fuck in before you can conduct yourselves properly around polite society?" Mickey shot back.

"I hate to break it to you, Sport-o, but there ain't nothin' polite about the society up in that place." She pointed to the entrance of the bowling alley and then turned to speak to her man. "Dimitri, can we please make him wait in the car for the next few hours?"

Dimitri allowed a moment to pass before he answered Rose's question. "Oh, I am standing here. For a moment I thought I disappeared entirely as you two engaged in this battle of wits, ignoring me completely. I'm afraid not, Roza, I promised him he could come with us tonight, and I'm a man of my word. You look breathtaking, by the way. I don't believe I've ever seen a more lovely woman in my life." He pulled her to him and splaying his hands across the exposed skin of her back for support, he dipped her down low for a passionate kiss worthy of the silver screen.

Mickey pretended to wretch at their little demonstration; they paid him no mind.

Once she was solidly back on her feet, but still pressed up against him, Rose laughed and swatted at Dimitri's chest. "Fresh! I'm glad you like the dress."

"I love it. Now let's head in there before Mickey explodes."

They all turned toward Fat Sal's and made for the entrance.

"Why does Adrian own this place too? It doesn't seem like his kind of establishment at all. It's so…I mean, it's a bowling alley!"

"Have you been here before?" Rose asked.

"A few times back when we were kids, and then once a couple of years ago when the garage had a company thing here. But not since he moved in and set up shop."

"This place is useful to him for a lot of reasons, the major one being that it helps with the massive deficit of owning a nightclub - even a popular one. And it's not as vanilla as you might think. During the daytime, on weekends, and in the early evenings all week it's a family joint, but once it hits about midnight, the crowd gets a little more…eclectic."

Dimitri leaned toward Mickey and mouthed drunk and high with a smirk.

The trio climbed up the steps to the sliding doors and officially entered Adrian Ivashkov's domain.

Immediately upon walking into Fat Sal's it became apparent to Mickey that Adrian Ivashkov must have sunk some serious money into renovating the establishment. The dingy popcorn and corn dog-scented oversized rumpus room he recalled from his youth was no more. It seemed the only thing about Fat Sal's that was still the same was the sign out front.

The walls were dark cream with three-foot-wide painted accent stripes alternating along the two sides that flanked the lanes in shades of key lime, dark tangerine, and pale teal. The shoe rental booth was located to the left of the entrance, directly facing the lanes, and the walls on either side of the rental booth were covered floor to ceiling in lockers that were painted to match the accent stripes on the other walls. The lane area to the right was a half flight of dark gray carpeted stairs below the main floor level, with a waist-high slat wood banister running along the entire perimeter. The metal racks of the ball returns had the same futuristic look of the awning over the entrance, but they were a shiny chrome rather than red, and their attached hoods were covered in tangerine and brown leatherette.

The previous lanes had begun to chip and warp with age, but they were gone, and in their place was a brightly polished combination of laminated maple wood and old-growth pine. It contrasted nicely with the tangerine-painted gutters. Each lane had its own chrome framed booths upholstered in teal that would seat about eight people and small Formica-topped ice cream parlor tables for keeping score.

The showpiece of the place was an enormous antique-looking wood and marble horseshoe counter that would be as at home in a swanky bar in Manhattan as it would be in a greasy spoon in Hoboken. There were chrome pedestal stools installed around the bar for patrons more interested in eating and drinking than bowling, and the floor immediately surrounding it was covered in white and black hexagonal bistro tile. More Formica tables with bistro chairs were scattered around the bar area giving it a contained dining room effect without having to fully section it off from everything else.

Mickey was genuinely impressed by the transformation.

"Who the hell was his decorator? I don't usually notice shit like that, but…this is nice. It looks like it's been here for twenty years like it's lived in already. Is this what the club next door looks like, too?"

"Adrian designed it himself down to the paint samples and fabric swatches. He got that counter from an architectural salvage auction in Philly. The tiles in the dining area are from an actual bistro in Paris that was torn down a couple of years back. That's why they look a little worn but in a nice way. The club is, well, it's beautiful too, but it doesn't look anything like this other than the fact that it also has a bar."

Mickey turned to Dimitri. "How come you never said anything about this place? I remember asking you before."

He gave a noncommittal shrug. "I told you it looked nicer inside now."

"Dimitri, this isn't just 'nicer'. This is fucking something. It's too good for the likes of this town, that's for sure."

Something was off about Dimitri's attitude here. He wasn't usually a chatty guy, but right now he was acting purposely obtuse.

"Don't feel too bad about it, Mickey. His ass is still just chapped about the fact that Adrian didn't use Union guys to do the labor on this place. Daniella has a side hustle going as a real estate developer in the DC area, which means she's got a whole crew at her beck and call to build spec houses for her wherever she sees an opportunity. They did the renovations on the alley and the club. My guess is there wasn't a lot of on-the-clock overtime, and no 'time-and-a-half' charged if you know what I mean. They did however use Teamsters to do all their hauling…it might be the cherry-picking that pisses him off even more. Let's go get a drink at the bar."

Rose slapped Dimitri's butt and skipped ahead to snag a seat at the counter they were just admiring. Suddenly she was feeling like a million bucks.

Dimitri followed right behind Rose. It was pretty clear to Mickey that judging by how much his dander was already up, he wouldn't be allowing more than a six-foot buffer between himself and that woman for the rest of the night. It was hard to blame him - every single male in Big Sal's was giving her the eye. Rose was a piece of ass with a capital A, and tonight she was dressed like a Hollywood starlet.

Mickey lagged behind the two lovebirds so he could take in the scene around him. Only two of the lanes were in use right now, but the small crowds gathered at each lane were raucous and blatantly inebriated. Several people were sitting at the tables in the dining area, and now that Rose and Dimitri were sitting at the counter, there were only four of the twelve stools open.

Staff-wise, he saw a few beefy fellas walking around in all black with "Security" literally printed across their backs. There were two young guys behind the shoe rental counter in black polo shirts. He picked out cocktail waitresses, bussers, janitors, and a very stressed-out fifty-something man in a suit who was probably the floor manager.

The whole place was buzzing with an energy he couldn't quite get a read on. They very obviously had a busy day shift, the amount of cleaning and changing over was harried and rushed, but there was also a sense of impending action. Everyone was preparing for the rest of the night, battening down the hatches…at 10:45 pm…in a bowling alley…in Newark.

The coke could be playing a role here, but Mickey was beginning to feel as though he'd gone through the looking glass.

"Heaven sent, it's Roos-e-velt Hathaway! Accept no fuckin' substitutes." Working behind the bar at Sal's tonight was Eddison Castile, or Eddie as he preferred to be called. He was one of the few coworkers Rose considered a good friend outside of work. Everybody who met Eddie loved Eddie.

She gave a little shimmy shake at his greeting. "What it is, Eddie baby!"

"Shiiiiiit, dig you, girl! Look at that fuckin' dress you're barely wearing. Little Mr. Bossman brought out the big guns tonight, and no mistake."

"Keep your eyes off my guns, Eddison." She warned with a saucy wink. "Dimitri isn't the sharing type."

Eddie gave Dimitri the tip of an invisible cap in the spirit of manly salutations.

"D-Train, how's it hangin'?"

"Down around my ankles, Eddie." He smirked.

"Haha, from the way this one over here goes on, I bet that's fuckin' true."

The counter had an impressively stocked bar behind it. Rose explained that Adrian did a lot of his early morning drinking there, so the selection went from the bottom of the barrel to difficult to afford. The young proprietor could often be seen in Sal's at 6:00 am, walking around in various stages of undress, with a tumbler of single malt in one hand and a tallboy of Colt 45 in the other.

"I didn't know you were working Sal-side tonight. Shouldn't you be next door raking in the big bucks, and not stuck over here at drunk daycare?"

Eddie's trademark dimpled grin disappeared with Rose's question. "Jill's working tonight."

"So? You guys work shifts together all the time." She asked, not following his line.

"She's not on skates tonight. She's up dancing in one of the cages." He scowled.

"Oy vey. Probably for the best, then."

"Yeah. Hans thinks I'm gonna lose my shit again and start a brawl if the guys in there get too uncouth. Whatcha drinking tonight, Roosevelt?"

Rose looked to where Dimitri and Mickey were perched on stools to her right. "What do you think, gents? Are we in a 'usuals' kinda mood, or are we mixing it up?"

Mickey shrugged. "Usuals."

Dimitri wasn't sure what she would say his usual order was, but right now he'd take whatever he was handed as it was going to be free. "The usual."

"Beautiful!" Rose tapped the bar with her claws, then swung her head back around to face Eddie. "Okay, Sir, a Tom Collins for me, that asshole over there wants a Rusty Nail - as top shelf as you're willing to go, and this impossibly handsome tall drink of water here wants an impossibly tall drink of vodka. Seriously, send it out in a trough, and he'll give it a good home. No plastic bottles, though, you read me?"

Eddie cupped his hand to his ear as if he had trouble hearing what Rose just said. "I'm sorry, what was that you said?" He paused for a moment in fake confusion. "You want us all to do tequila shots first, Ms. Roosevelt?!"

Mickey finally joined in, grinning. "I think that's exactly what she said. Reposado, right Rose?"

Before she could say a word, Eddie was already stepping on his wooden stool to reach for a bottle way up high.

"How come he calls you Roosevelt?" Mickey asked her.

"Fuck if I know. The first day he started working here he tried calling me Rosie. I told him if he called me that again, I'd pop him one. So he started calling me Roosevelt…and for some reason, it didn't bother me so much."

Eddie returned clutching four overflowing shot glasses of reposado something and handed one to each of them.

"¡Salud!" Eddie took his shot.

"Za tvajo zdarovje!" Dimitri took his shot.

"Cin Cin!" Mickey took his shot. "Or egészségedre! I'm a mutt!" He explained.

"My mother's doesn't drink, and my dad died before he could teach me to say cheers in Turkish. So I'll just drink the damn thing!" Rose took her shot. She did know how to 'cheers' in Turkish, she just preferred not to.

Eddie grabbed up the empties and told them he'd be back in a second with their actual drink orders. "D-Train, I'm fresh outta troughs back here. Can you settle for a double?"

"I think I can make do, Eddie. And don't worry too much. I'll keep an eye on Jillian for you while we're in there tonight. If anyone steps out of line, I'd be more than happy to break some fingers with your regards." He adjusted his belt manfully.

"Hey, thanks, man! Rose and Mateo are right, you're a real dreamboat. I might have to add a second D to D-Train, now. I'll call you D-D-Train." Eddie shook his hand with an arm grab and then got back to work.

Mickey waited until Eddie was busy with another customer before asking, "Who's Mateo?"

Rose thought about it for a second, deciding that Eddie wouldn't mind her talking about his business a little. It wasn't gossip, they were just biographical facts. "Eddie's from Bushwick. That's a neighborhood in Brooklyn -"

Mickey rolled his eyes. "I know that!"

"Jump up my ass, why don't you. ANYWAY... He was raised by his mom, Judy, who's Scotch-Irish, and his Puerto Rican uncle, Mateo." Rose put very emphatic finger quotes around the word 'uncle'. "Eddie's real father spent the first few years of Eddie's life drinking, not working, and beating the ever-loving shit out of Judy. She stuck around there way too long hoping something would change, but the second Tim - the piece of shit's name was Tim - the second Tim turned his fists on Eddie, Judy got them both the hell out of there."

The barback came by with their drinks. By the looks of it, Eddie was busy with some people Rose recognized as high roller types. The three of them waved their thanks to him from across the bar, and once the kid was gone, she went on with her story. "Mateo was Judy's best friend growing up. Their moms were best friends like the two of your moms. They were inseparable as kids. Mateo grew up pretty hard. A lot of his family lives in the neighborhood, and nearly all the men around that neck of the woods have served time for something. Mateo is also gay. Everybody in the neighborhood knows this about him; he doesn't keep it a secret. If anyone had a problem with it over the years, they kept it to themselves or they got their legs broken - or worse - because Mateo is a big guy, and he can be very intimidating when he needs to be. The same goes for the rest of his family. Judy and Mateo have lived together ever since she left Tim, and Eddie says he's the best dad in the whole world. He couldn't possibly love the guy anymore."

Dimitri stared at his drink while Rose spoke. He already knew Eddie's story. He was there the night Rose had a few shift drinks too many and asked him, "How is it that a guy as blonde as you are and as freckle-faced as you are can speak fluent Spanish and move on a dancefloor like you do?" Eddie, being an affable young man who was inclined to like everybody, found her blunt question funny rather than rude. He spilled his guts to them with a smile. "I can also make pretty damn good mofongo if you two wanna come over sometime?"

"We've been to his family's house a few times," Rose continued. "His parents are both very nice to me, but they LOVE Dimitri. Judy gets all flustered over how polite he is, and Mateo and his boyfriend, Javier, both look at him like he's a slice of pie."

Dimitri took the last sip of his drink, tipping it back. He may be a slice of pie to some, but just then his cheeks were as red as a bowl of borscht.

One shot and two drinks later, Rose was nearly finished telling Mickey about the bowling alley and its various reasons for existing. Because Adrian owned the only business on the block beside the club, it cut down noise and drunken disturbance complaints to nil. The line for the club on a Friday or Saturday night wrapped around the corner and down the street often blocking the entrance to the bowling alley parking lot, but this was a non-issue for the man who owned both spots. Last call for the club had to be 4:00 am by law, but the liquor license that came with Fat Sal's was an old one and had no time restrictions. When people left the club at 4:00 still wanting to party or needing to wait until regular train services started up again, they could do that right next door. The all-night hours and funky vibe of the spot had even begun to draw in folks from the CBGB and Max's Kansas City scene, people who loved to party but hated disco. Rose SWORE to Mickey she saw Dee Dee Ramone passed out on one of the lanes' booths when she came in on a Thursday morning to help Adrian with something.

He also used this place to hobnob with the city of Newark. The Teamsters and Police unions both had bowling leagues, and Adrian cut them huge deals on using his place for practices and tournaments. He used the name Fat Sal's Lanes to sponsor a little league baseball team in town and to donate a new goalpost to a local high school's football field. The place was also very big this last year on the company Christmas party circuit.

The food at Sal's was pretty good, better than it needed to be, and the hours brought in regulars who worked swing and night shifts around the city. Bartenders, hospital workers, delivery drivers, and train operators - all needed a place to go for off-hours meals, and their other options in town were limited.

All of this was on top of the fact that the place made decent regular numbers as just a bowling alley that people went to on a weekend afternoon or early weekday evening. "If you look at the other people sitting at this counter right now, you can see they have money and dress well. They are here doing what we're doing which is avoiding the line out in front of The Aura, and skipping the initial stampede to the bar that happens when the crowd is finally let in. They all know Adrian and probably have $500 bottle services set up for a night behind the velvet ropes. Having a discothèque attached to a bowling alley or in the back of a family restaurant is already sort of a cliché; Adrian is trying to see if he can…defy those expectations to make something truly hip. Fat Sal's and The Aura are sort of his little project to see if he's capable of creating a real scene out of thin air - like Andy Warhol."

Dimitri didn't add anything to the conversation as Mickey asked questions and Rose answered with a lot more enthusiasm than she ordinarily would because she was a little drunk and a little high. The place she was describing only existed because of his cousin's obscene wealth - wealth that was secured by ill-gotten means. Wealth he and his family would never know because his mother hadn't been married to the Ivashkov man who mistreated her for a decade.

It wasn't the money that bothered him so much. He didn't want any more of that family's money. He just didn't appreciate the constant, glaring reminder of the world's casual injustices.

Earlier that evening

After the dinner dishes were cleared from the table, Mickey went upstairs for a minute to use the bathroom and to plug in his steam iron. The conversation at the table continued in his absence.

"Can yuh believe that little Caputo skifosa tried to threaten Mickey into going around with her by saying the two of yuh were gay? What is that all about?" Loretta commented to more than asked of the entire room.

Dimitri grunted in response, fiddling with the cordial glass in his hands before setting it on the table and pouring himself another vodka. Denise's words to Mickey earlier in the day would be funny if they weren't so tragic. That girl wasn't worth discussing, in his opinion. Some people were just born mean and spiteful.

Olena returned from the kitchen with the dessert and plates. "It does seem to be a very petty thing to say."

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my son. To me, he's the most beautiful creature on God's Earth, but if the two of yuh were homosexuals in a relationship together…well… Mikhail Christopher should be so lucky, am I right?"

Dimitri nearly spat out his drink. "What?"

"The two of yuh together? I mean Mickey would be punching above his weight, that's all."

"Loretta! You're terrible!" Olena had to put down the serving utensil she was holding so she wouldn't make a giant mess while laughing. She pressed the back of her hand up to her mouth.

"What did I say that's so bad!? I just think Dimitri might be a little out of Mickey's league. Look at that son of yours over there." She threw out both her hands in his direction. "He's a hunk! He's hunky and he's got a great job for a young man of his age. You could maybe do a little better for yourself in picking a partner for your life."

Dimitri lowered his forehead to the table and tried not to die of embarrassment.

"You could do worse too, though." She added charitably, not wanting to fully slander her son.

"HAHAHAHAHA…"

"What the hell!? You're not out of my league! That is total bullshit. We are absolutely in the same league!" Mickey shouted.

"I never said I was out of your league, that was your mother." Dimitri shot back.

"Yeah, but you did not stand up for me. You did not say that any man would be lucky to have me in their life, and I would make a wonderful, handsome boyfriend!"

"HAHAHAHAHA…"

Dimitri was so confused. "Okay, let me get this straight. You're mad that I didn't insist vehemently enough to both of our mothers that I think you're very sexy?"

"You didn't insist at all! You didn't defend my honor in any way! At the first test of your loyalty, you placed a blindfold over my eyes, put a cigarette in my mouth, and stood me up in front of the Italian firing squad. And all of this behind my back! At least I have Olena in my corner. She's not a Judas, unlike her hunky son."

"HAHAHAHAHA…"

It was then that something finally clicked for Eddie, and his face could not have done a better job of conveying his epiphany. He slapped his hand against his forehead. "OH! Now I get it." He pointed to Mickey. "You're Loretta's son! You're Dimitri's best friend, the one who's Loretta's son. Everything finally makes sense. Sorry, man, it took me a little while to figure out who you were."

"HAHAHAHAHA…"

"I'm Mickey!"

The four of them had snuck off to the narrow service corridor that ran between the Fat Sal's and The Aura Club about fifteen minutes before Dimitri made the mistake of telling that story. Someone slipped Eddie a small bag of coke in place of a cash tip, and he'd been eager to turn his dinner break into a cheeky quick work party with his friends and their guest. Leaning against the cramped walls, they were all now officially high as kites and talking a mile a minute.

"Yeah, sorry man. I didn't mean anything by it." Eddie assured him. "Rose just talks about Loretta - your mother - a lot. Believe me, I understand your struggle. Where I'm from, everyone calls me 'Judy and Mateo's boy' and that's only when they're not calling me 'Mateo Colón's gringo son'. I only hear people say Eddie at work. Also, speaking of Rose, I think we broke her."

"HAHAHAHAHA…"

They turned to look at Rose. Seated on two large plastic-wrapped stacks of recently laundered cloth napkins with her arms frozen in the air in front of her - a car key with a scoop of cocaine on it in one hand and a baggy of white powder in the other - she could not stop herself from laughing. Her eyes were screwed shut, and her head was thrown back. "HUNKY?!" She gasped, grabbing her side with the hand that held the baggy. She felt, and looked, as though she was about to die from laughing. Every person in the universe, male or female, young or old, had the hots for her boyfriend. Aliens probably visited Earth in their flying saucers just to check out Dimitri Belikov.

With much effort, she finally regulated her breathing and managed to remain quiet long enough to do one last key bump. Then she handed the items back to Eddie and motioned for Dimitri to help her up. He made the assist with ease, obviously glad to have another moment of holding her close before they stepped through the steel door to their left, faintly illuminated by the soft green light of an exit sign, and into the club.

Rose too enjoyed having a final cuddle before Go Time, and melted into his arms. Standing there in the dark corridor, pressed firmly up against his muscular body yet again, she gazed deeply into the eyes of the man she loved with all her heart and soul…and she sneezed.

"Oh, GAH! Roza, my mouth was open!" He complained, more than a little disgusted by being on the receiving end of a face full of spittle, snot, and chunky cocaine.

Never one to let embarrassment get the best of her, Rose dropped hands from his chest, defiantly swiped at her nose, flipped her long thick braid over her shoulder, and sauntered toward the Exit - all swaying hips and bouncing tits. She spoke without turning around to look at him. "Oh, please. You know you still want me."

Then she threw open the door to the coat check of Shangri-La.

Soundtrack

Love is the Drug - Roxy Music (Car ride to the club)

Got To Give It Up - Marvin Gaye (Enter Adrian's domain)

NOTES

Rose's dress is a combination of two famous Halston gowns, one worn by Farrah Fawcett and the other by Bianca Jagger.

Rose's new perfume is YSL Opium which was first launched in 1977.

If you're enjoying the story, please add it to your follows! It kinda started to feel a little like people on here don't want to read anything that isn't about women going into heat like dogs. Which is fair. We like what we like. (Maybe that's why I threw in a cat joke?)