all with mannequin heads sporting wigs in all colors and styles. There was a makeup counter in the back and a leopard-print velvet sofa in the center of the room perched atop a white faux fur rug.
And everywhere else there were clothes.
If you called the garments that hung on the racks and bars coming out of the walls clothes.
To me it looked more like really fancy, really tiny bikinis.
From beside me Roxie giggled and I glanced at her. “I love newbies,” she said with a grin.
So it wasn’t just me. She knew this place was over the top too; she was just used to it. I guess if I came here often enough, the décor and nakedness surrounding me would lose some of its surprise.
“Honey,” Roxie called toward the back. “I’m here.”
A few minutes later, a woman with dark skin and a bright-red wig came out of the back. She wasn’t a small woman, standing probably close to six feet tall with a wide build that appeared to enjoy a lot of southern cooking. Her wig was styled in an ultra-sleek bob that ended just at her shoulders and was the kind of red you might get out of a Kool-Aid packet.
She was dressed in a loose golden caftan that shimmered when she moved, and she had a ring on almost every finger and the biggest, happiest smile I’d ever seen anyone wear.
“Roxie, girrrllll,” the woman named Honey purred. “You are looking good.”
“You too, Honey, you too.”
Honey’s eyes turned to me.
“Honey, this is my new friend Violet. She’s brand new at the Mad Hatter.”
The woman’s brown eyes lit up and she lunged at me, taking me into a huge bear hug. “Welcome, Shug,” she exclaimed. “Any friend of Roxie’s is a friend of Honey’s.”
She pulled me back and looked me over. “You need a little more meat on your bones. Men want something to grab on to when they reach out their hands.”
I felt my cheeks bloom with bright pink splotches.
Honey laughed. “It’s all right, Shug. I keep telling Roxie here the same thing.”
Roxie nodded sagely.
“So what kind of things do you need?” she asked me, looking me over again.
“I—” I began, but Roxie cut me off.
“She needs everything.”
Honey made an mmhmm sound and headed for the racks. Roxie and Honey began talking real fast and holding up scraps of fabric, debating and laughing about everything they said. Roxie held up a couple things to herself while Honey kept adding to the mountain in her hand, and I began to worry about how much all that barely there fabric was going to cost me.
Then she held up a G-string.
“No!” I said, butting into the conversation that I had purposely stayed out of. “I am not wearing any of that butt floss.”
“Butt floss?” Honey said and looked at me with wide eyes.
Roxie began giggling and then Honey burst out in a huge rowdy laugh. The two of them laughed for a good ten minutes. I mean, I started to get bored. I don’t really know what was so funny about sticking a string up your butt crack.
When they finally stopped laughing, Honey put down the G-string and announced she wouldn’t add “butt floss” to the pile.
“I don’t want anything too skimpy either,” I told her.
She stared at me like I had three heads.
“I want to leave something to the imagination. I want people to wonder what I’m going to show when I get on the stage. I don’t want to be trashy,” I finished, feeling self-conscious. I didn’t want either of them to think I was insulting them, because I wasn’t, but I had my own personal limits I wanted to adhere to.
“Violet is your stage name, isn’t it?” Honey asked, looking at me freshly again.
I nodded.
“Your real name Harlow?”
“How’d you know that?” I asked, looking at Roxie. Roxie shrugged.
“Ty told me there was new girl, a Miss Harlow, at the bar and he told her not to be trashy.”
I smiled.
And everywhere else there were clothes.
If you called the garments that hung on the racks and bars coming out of the walls clothes.
To me it looked more like really fancy, really tiny bikinis.
From beside me Roxie giggled and I glanced at her. “I love newbies,” she said with a grin.
So it wasn’t just me. She knew this place was over the top too; she was just used to it. I guess if I came here often enough, the décor and nakedness surrounding me would lose some of its surprise.
“Honey,” Roxie called toward the back. “I’m here.”
A few minutes later, a woman with dark skin and a bright-red wig came out of the back. She wasn’t a small woman, standing probably close to six feet tall with a wide build that appeared to enjoy a lot of southern cooking. Her wig was styled in an ultra-sleek bob that ended just at her shoulders and was the kind of red you might get out of a Kool-Aid packet.
She was dressed in a loose golden caftan that shimmered when she moved, and she had a ring on almost every finger and the biggest, happiest smile I’d ever seen anyone wear.
“Roxie, girrrllll,” the woman named Honey purred. “You are looking good.”
“You too, Honey, you too.”
Honey’s eyes turned to me.
“Honey, this is my new friend Violet. She’s brand new at the Mad Hatter.”
The woman’s brown eyes lit up and she lunged at me, taking me into a huge bear hug. “Welcome, Shug,” she exclaimed. “Any friend of Roxie’s is a friend of Honey’s.”
She pulled me back and looked me over. “You need a little more meat on your bones. Men want something to grab on to when they reach out their hands.”
I felt my cheeks bloom with bright pink splotches.
Honey laughed. “It’s all right, Shug. I keep telling Roxie here the same thing.”
Roxie nodded sagely.
“So what kind of things do you need?” she asked me, looking me over again.
“I—” I began, but Roxie cut me off.
“She needs everything.”
Honey made an mmhmm sound and headed for the racks. Roxie and Honey began talking real fast and holding up scraps of fabric, debating and laughing about everything they said. Roxie held up a couple things to herself while Honey kept adding to the mountain in her hand, and I began to worry about how much all that barely there fabric was going to cost me.
Then she held up a G-string.
“No!” I said, butting into the conversation that I had purposely stayed out of. “I am not wearing any of that butt floss.”
“Butt floss?” Honey said and looked at me with wide eyes.
Roxie began giggling and then Honey burst out in a huge rowdy laugh. The two of them laughed for a good ten minutes. I mean, I started to get bored. I don’t really know what was so funny about sticking a string up your butt crack.
When they finally stopped laughing, Honey put down the G-string and announced she wouldn’t add “butt floss” to the pile.
“I don’t want anything too skimpy either,” I told her.
She stared at me like I had three heads.
“I want to leave something to the imagination. I want people to wonder what I’m going to show when I get on the stage. I don’t want to be trashy,” I finished, feeling self-conscious. I didn’t want either of them to think I was insulting them, because I wasn’t, but I had my own personal limits I wanted to adhere to.
“Violet is your stage name, isn’t it?” Honey asked, looking at me freshly again.
I nodded.
“Your real name Harlow?”
“How’d you know that?” I asked, looking at Roxie. Roxie shrugged.
“Ty told me there was new girl, a Miss Harlow, at the bar and he told her not to be trashy.”
I smiled.
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