Free The Jewel Box by C Michelle McCarty Page B

songs, Teddy Bear seemed brighter than the other girls, and managed to escape sarcastic pseudonym typically bestowed by Al and Gabriel.
    “Hey Cherie,” Al piped up one night as I served their drinks. Gabe and I wanna take you and Teddy Bear to lunch this week.”
    “Someone accidentally shoot a hole through your skull with the nail gun today?” I glanced at Al, then Gabriel. Butterflies did acrobatics in my tummy at the thought of seeing him outside this noisy club, but I was sure Beau’s rulebook didn’t permit rendezvous with customers. “Beau’s not about to allow that.”
    “You my friend, are naïve,” said Gabriel.
    “You think this is common practice?”
    “I don’t know, Blondie, you’ll have to ask Beau. Al’s assumption surprises me too, but this ain’t exactly a church we’re sittin’ in.”
    Beau laughed when I told him what Gabriel said. “You tell Gabe we’ll be having a revival next week if he’s interested. But go ahead and have lunch with them—they’re harmless. Just don’t make it a habit. If men want company, they’ll have to come to the Jewel Box.”
    Laura thought it a bad idea, but two days later Teddy Bear and I met the guys in front of the Jewel Box for our lunch date. I’d been dreaming about what to order at one of Sonny Looks great restaurants when we pulled into the parking lot of Gulfgate Mall. Houston’s first mall, once glitzy and now beginning to show signs of decline like many other southeast side businesses, didn’t thrill me. Nor did the Picadilly Cafeteria where Al pretty much salivated over Teddy Bear the entire meal. Still, he and Gabriel behaved like real gentlemen, and during conversation that ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous, Gabriel used clichés and made analogies mixing historical characters with current events. My prior pain-in-the-ass guy had impeccable table manners—until we stood to leave. Gabriel punched his finger into all untouched rolls. “You’re strange.” I wrinkled my nose into a sneer, all the while feeling charmed by his weirdness.
    A week later at Gabriel’s suggestion, the same foursome wound up at a matinee showing of
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
. Gabriel’s dark moustache wasn’t as long and wild as Redford’s and his blond hair wasn’t as tousled, but other facial characteristics made me feel like I was sandwiched between two versions of the delicious Sundance Kid.
    Beau demanded punctuality from waitresses, so I rushed the others from theater to the club where the four of us sat around talking until I was forced to work for a living. After waiting on a few customers, I hurried back to the table just as a new dancer, Sugar Box, was dragging a chair between Teddy Bear and Al. Almost as pretty as Teddy Bear, this loud mouthed, thigh slapping, long legged dancer with ebony eyes and blazing black hair didn’t use seductive behavior to make her money. When it cametime for her to dance, she darted from the table and chose
Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay
for her dance routine. Sugar Box blackened two teeth and turned her gimme cap backwards, before sitting on the little stage with slouched shoulders and a fishing pole in hand, acting out her rendition of Mr. Redding’s words. She dramatically peered into the crowd while Otis sang of watching the ships roll in, and slowly bobbed her head until he began whistling, at which time she loudly but pathetically whistled along.
    Taking outstretched dollars and drink offers from men as she made her way back to our table, Sugar Box sat unladylike, spreading one leg on the back of Al’s chair and the other on a vacant chair. “Lovely.” I frowned.
    “Gotta air my crotch,” Sugar Box said, then told a joke so vulgar it even brought a blush to Gabriel’s tan face. Al bought her a drink. She poured it down her throat. “Buy two more so you don’t have to keep dragging out your wallet.” Al complied and Teddy Bear daintily sipped her Kool-Aid cocktail, trying not to show