Free Rift by Richard Cox

beautiful. Mountains and trees and everything.”
    â€œAll right,” I tell her. “I’ll let you know how it went when I get back to Houston.”
    â€œGreat,” she says. “Looks like your friend is on his way back.”
    Tom is talking to a brunette onstage. He points toward our table, and she nods. Then he strides over to us, smiling ear to ear.
    â€œLooks like you two have hit it off,” he says, as if this is a singles bar instead of a strip club. “Michelle told me you guys work on the side. Private dances. At home.”
    That Crystal would dance privately surprises me. She seems too proud to take her show out of this semiprofessional arena.
    â€œSometimes,” she says. “And always with a chaperone. But not tonight.”
    â€œWhy not?” Tom pleads. “Michelle said—”
    â€œMichelle’s not me, is she? She doesn’t know my schedule. I have things to do tonight.”
    Crystal abruptly stands up.
    â€œCameron, thanks for the drink. It was very nice to meet you. Come see me again sometime.”
    She glares at Tom as she leaves the table, and soon disappears behind a curtain near the stage. Gone in a flash.
    â€œThanks, Tom,” I say. Only half seriously, though, because I don’t really feel like spending all night here. And I’m curious to see if Mystery Man follows me out the—
    Wait a minute. Crystal never pointed him out to me. How am I supposed to watch for the guy if I don’t know what he looks like?
    â€œThat one’s kind of new,” Tom says. “Michelle, she’s been around for a while. Does private dances all the time. And I thought maybe . . . well, since you guys seemed to have built a little rapport and all . . .”
    â€œTom, you embarrassed her. If she’s new here, then private dancing is probably a little too extreme.”
    â€œWhy? She makes good money doing it here. What’s the difference?”
    It wouldn’t do any good to explain to Tom what Crystal and I were talking about. The food chain thing. He wouldn’t understand that we had found a common ground and were communicating outside this topless arena. Instead he would just laugh and accuse me of having a crush on her.
    â€œIt’s no big deal,” I say. “But do you mind if we leave? I’d like to try Misty again.”
    This disappoints Tom, but he knows when to cut his losses.
    We call a waitress to the table and settle the bill. I ask her if there is any way she could call Crystal back out for just a moment.
    â€œNo can do, honey-pie,” she answers. “These are working girls. If they’re not on the floor, it means they’re on break. Off-limits to you.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œThere are plenty of butts for you to look at out here. Crystal’s is off duty.”
    And then she walks away.
    Tom looks at me as if he knows something I don’t, which kind of pisses me off. He thinks I have a crush on her. I could tell him that Crystal knew about transmitting, but for some reason I don’t think he would give a shit. He doesn’t care how I got here or that I risked my life to test new technology. He just wants to play golf. That’s the kind of nuts-and-bolts guy Tom is. A man whose life is devoid of subplots. He works, he plays, he sleeps. Everything else is clutter.
    For the first time since Crystal mentioned Mystery Man, I turn around. There are more customers now, perhaps thirty sitting between our table and the door. All of them are men except for the occasional dancer. I scan this smallish crowd nonchalantly, spending just fractions of a second on any one person. They are blue-collar men, white-collar men, and greasy men wearing slick hair and synthetic shirts. None of them stand out. None of them look at me any longer than I look at them. In a moment, we walk out the door and into the warm, dry air.
    The sun is still high in the sky. My watch tells me it’s