Sunday, June 27, 2010

The Chiropractor - Part 2

The Hot Sun gallery was owned by two hipsters who had inherited a lot of money and thus wanted to spend their lives not worrying about whether or not they sold any art. Harlan and Maxine were in their early 40s and had no children. They traveled and shopped for eclectic art and listened to cool music and wore Prada clothes and had sleek hairstyles. Maxine was my favorite of the two. She was a tall, pretty blonde with a sweet, shy disposition and Harlan bossed her around. Harlan bossed everyone around. You got the impression that he ran every operation he came in contact with. He's one of those guys who I bet decided which Prada outfits Maxine wore, which cool music she listened to and how sleek her hairstyle would be and she seemed so passive and in awe of her husband that she'd just do whatever he said.

I hate men like Harlan. They all seem to have some kind of superiority complex. These kind of men always like to feel like they're taking women under their wing and "teaching" them something. This has never appealed to me in the slightest. If I need fashion advice from a man, I'll go ask one of my gay friends. Some women though, really love these controlling men and will just give everything over to them and go all goo-goo over them thinking these men are so smart and so great. I got the impression that this was Maxine and Harlan's relationship dynamic to a tee.

I don't know what these two did all day or why they couldn't work in their own gallery, but they didn't. I hardly ever saw Maxine. Harlan would breeze by every day at different random times in order to keep me on my toes. I was their only employee and every day, I'd sit there from open til close hoping someone would come in and buy something or talk to me or something interesting would happen. Sometimes I hoped for an armed robbery, just so I'd have a story. Working at the Hot Sun was about as opposite of working at the Bubblegum Kittikat as you could get.

At the Kitti, it was constantly crowded. Money was flying all over the place. It was like one of those glass booths you always see on game shows where people get a minute inside to try to grab as many of the bills flying around as they can. There was constant action and sensory bombardment - booming bass music, glitter, cigar smoke, the pop of champagne bottles, fistfights, vomit and drug overdoses. I can't tell you how many times I had to call 911. That was my job. I had to determine when shit had gone too far and I had to call 911 when it had. My 911 criteria involved blood on the floor. If someone had blood on their hands or face it wasn't that bad but if it had gotten to the point where there was now blood on the floor, it was time for the cops to come. Often, we found, this happened on Sunday nights. Eventually one of the bouncers and I figured out it was because people spent all day drinking and getting themselves all fired up over sporting events, so when they finally made it to the strip club they were full of booze and testosterone and ready to kick someone's ass.

I never had to call 911 at the Hot Sun. It was never crowded. If we had one browser, it was a miracle. The place was tiny - about the size of my admittedly very small apartment's living room and it had an even tinier hidden little bathroom in the back. That bathroom made a porto-potty look grand. You couldn't really turn around in it, it was so small. The walls were stark white. The floors were blonde wood and we had about five pieces of very plain, very modern, very spare, abstract art on the walls. This was all Harlan's doing. His preferred aesthetic was a combination of Swedish chic and prison cell. He was the kind of person who liked an all white room with maybe a slate table and his idea of decorating the room would maybe be a green pear off to the side of the slate table, but on second though, maybe that green pear would be too colorful.

(Oops my guests just arrived for fish tacos! I wanted to give you a little more to the story though because I start teaching a new class tomorrow and might not have time to write. See you later!)

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
FINISH THE STORY!
Lil Skraps

Wide Lawns said...

Don't worry. I only work Mondays and Wednesdays.

Anonymous said...

Thanks Dear.
L. Skraps

Anonymous said...

Post recipe for fish tacos and finish the story? LOL

Melanie said...

What kind of tortillas do you use for the fish tacos? White flour, whole wheat flour, yellow corn or white corn?

Crunchy or soft?

Can't wait for the rest of the story!

Anonymous said...

Dear WL:

I am trying to read all your posts. Will probably take all summer. I would love to know the story of the lawsuit by Evil Ex. Did I miss it? I am dying to know how someone could steal the house you bought. Please let me know if there is a post about it already. If not will you indulge this reader with that story. Seems impossible that someone can do that to another person. Still I am sure the nickname is well earned.

thanks.

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