Chapter 4 – The Stripper’s Epiphany
Present
time
So,
here he was, back in real time, relaxing in Steve's swivel chair and pondering
his dilemma. It was Calvin's turn to man the office phone line. The day had
been pretty quiet, according to Bob. Apparently Steve's business number was one
digit removed from a psychic hotline. Bob had been honest in redirecting the
first caller, but less so with the second. Somewhere in Chicago, a certain Mary
Fields was now expecting a massive cash windfall from an unknown ailing uncle.
When Calvin asked Bob if he felt guilty at the deceit, instead of being ashamed
of his actions, Bob was considering going into the psychic business himself.
Finding no flaw in Bob's reasoning, Calvin saw him to the door and reminded him
to set his alarm for the next shift.
Calvin
fed the fish, and wandered around the office, pondering his problem. What if
Steve had located his mother, and was already on his way back right now? He
needed something to occupy his mind until the first call came in. Alexis. He
strolled across to the desk and opened up the drawer containing the lewd and
lascivious photos of his favorite model. Holy crap! Page forty-two had been
ripped out. He would have words with dear old Bob. The sound of the doorbell
cut through his thoughts. It can't be
Steve. Please let it not be Steve. Steve would have called first. Of course he
would. Calvin took a deep breath and opened the door. Janet stood before
him, her face beaming. His first thought was that Mike had indeed been in
contact with her, despite getting no help from him.
"We
should get married." Such a simple four-word sentence.
"What!
Are you insane?" replied Calvin.
Janet
brushed past him and made straight for the swivel chair.
"Why
don't you come on in?" Calvin said.
"It
took me a while to figure out that you had the hots for me. You disguised it
well."
"Not
well enough, apparently."
"I
read an article this morning," she said.
"You
can read?"
"You
have a caustic sense of humor. I like that."
"What
did this article say?"
"It
stated that there were no coincidences in life. All things happen for a reason
and the people and events that happen, all have a purpose. It's just a case of
connecting the dots."
"What
if you connect the dots in the wrong order?"
"That's
the beauty of it," she replied. "There is no wrong order, only
different routes to the same end. Calvin, if you had to use one word, and one
word only, to describe me, what would it be?"
"Bipolar,"
said Calvin, without a second’s hesitation.
"Do
you see how things work, Calvin? Yesterday, I would have slapped the shit out
of you for making such a remark, but after reading that article…"
This
line of reasoning had Calvin flummoxed. Insults were attractive to this
lunatic. He had to tread lightly.
"Oh!"
Janet exclaimed, "Is this your favorite reading material?"
She
was holding up Calvin's dubious magazine.
"It's
not mine."
Janet
turned it over. "Then why does it have, 'Do not touch - Calvin' written on
the back?"
"Okay,
it's mine."
"It's
okay to read porn, Calvin. I'm a stripper for goodness sake. I understand the
needs of men better than most wives."
"Fine.
Tell me then, which one of the dots does that magazine represent? None, am I
right?"
Janet
started flicking through the magazine, and stopped. "Well, well." She
glanced up at Calvin. "I think we might have found a clue."
"Clue?
What sort of clue?"
"Page
forty-two is missing."
"I
can explain that."
"Calvin,
no explanation is necessary. Can't you see that?"
"As
a matter of fact, I can't. I think you're getting a hold of the wrong end of
the stick."
"Stick
being code for penis?"
"There
is no code, Janet. There are no dots."
"Let
me spell it out for you, Calvin. Page forty-two. Alexis. We look alike. We could
be sisters. You're using her to fantasize about me."
"You
look nothing alike," replied a horrified Calvin, the very thought alien to
him. "She's gorgeous, you're… tall. She's voluptuous, you're… tall. She's
tanned, you're as white as a new pair of men’s boxer shorts."
"Strange
you should think of underwear when describing me. If you want to prove me
wrong, produce the page that was ripped out. Do that and I'll believe that you
were right and I was wrong."
Calvin
raised his hands in defeat. "I don't have it here… but I think I know
where it is."
"Let
me tell you why it's not here, Calvin. It's not here because you have it hidden
somewhere in your bedroom. I'll bet you bring it out every night."
Calvin
offered no denial, and merely shrugged. She had him there.
"I
have to go," she said. "Shopping for groceries and sexy underwear.
What kind of figure hugging article would you like to see me in, Calvin?"
"A
straightjacket, perhaps?"
"Aren't
you the kinky one?" Janet slipped from the chair and sashayed her hips as
she headed to the door.
"Gout?"
asked Calvin, holding the door open for her.
Janet
giggled, raised her forefinger to her lips, kissed it, and then transferred the
red lipstick to the tip of Calvin's nose.
"Why
don't you come and watch me dance? Think about it." She patted his cheek
twice and then exited the door, never
looking back.
The
phone rang. It was Mike.
"Listen,
Calvin. I need you to forget about your therapist/client relationship bollocks
and give me Janet's address, okay? I'm desperate. I know she's the one. You've
got to help me. Please Calvin, I'm begging you."
"I
don't know her address, Mike, but it's two blocks down from Spanky's bar, and
has a red door."
"Are
you telling me the truth? I thought it would take me ages to drag that
information out of you. After the last time we talked, I didn't hold out much hope."
"You
caught me in a weak moment, Mike. Good luck."
Calvin
replaced the phone back on its cradle without waiting for Mike's reply. He
picked up his magazine and studied Alexis from every angle. "Nah!"
