Erick Poladov

The Racer


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had ever worked under Desmond needed no enlightenment about who they should be and how a guardian of the law should act in a given situation. They had a living example and standard – Sheriff Poe. Few people managed to get closer to Desmond in terms of his set of personal qualities, but everyone strived for this. And even at the end of his sixties, Desmond managed not to slow down, demonstrating absolute self-control and promptly solving any problems that surfaced in his town.

      But lately Desmond has been faced with a problem. Not to say that it was an age crisis, but the years took their toll and age no longer allowed him to feel as vigorous and daring as in his best years. Despite the fact that Desmond managed to restore order in the town during the first years of his tenure as sheriff and now there was not much work in this sense, he still felt bad at heart that there was not even a reason to sweat to solve any problem more serious than domestic violence or chasing a violator who is exceeding the speed limit. Desmond needed a reason to declare himself in his sixties, because the last time he had to show who was the law was eleven years ago, when he was forty-eight and the gunpowder in his flasks was still dry.

      3. Gomorrah

      Inside, the music had not yet died down, customers continued to dry the bar, balls rolled into pockets, and there were fewer and fewer parking spaces. Gomorrah was a one-size-fits-all establishment. There was a striptease and a bar; here they played poker for money over a glass of beer and made bets at the billiard table. This was perhaps the only place in Heartstone where the sheriff did not come due to regular violence, because Gomorrah always had two bouncers. Not a single shift was complete here without a fight, so the bouncers were never idle. Perhaps fights would not have occurred so often if the institution was not located outside the town near the federal highway, which ensured a constant influx of customers passing by, among whom were trailer drivers, students, travelers with motorhomes, rodeo participants, farmers, hunters and fishermen. But a special category of clients were bikers. One day, a whole gang of seventy-eight bikers, who were on their way from Louisiana to California, parked in front of the establishment and decided to make a short pit stop when they saw a sign glowing from green neon tubes with the inscription Gomorrah, on both sides of which spread women’s legs glowed in red. The atmosphere that night was tense. This was the only time when Sheriff Poe came to the strip club to establish order, because alcohol was running low, and the dancers from strippers almost retrained as prostitutes, and against their will. The owner of the establishment, Luther Grissom, with trembling in his heart, was already beginning to count the losses from broken glasses, broken cues, cracked chairs and tables requiring replacement. But the damage was not as great as it could have been. All the affray stopped exactly at the moment when Sheriff Poe went inside and threw one of the bikers out the window, after which he fired a warning shot into the ceiling, and thus contributed to the damage caused to the establishment. But Luther not only didn’t take a cent for the broken window and ventilation in the attic, but also treated the Sheriff to free beer because it had become so quiet here since his arrival. The bikers lay with their faces to the floor, and the sheriff’s deputy placed the especially active ones in the back seats of official cars. This was eleven years ago. Since then, there have been enough internal forces to ensure order in Gomorrah.

      That night Dana Host earned almost four times more than usual thanks to the fact that she was invited to perform a dance right at the table where the birthday boy was among the guests. After the music stopped and the next track began to play, the guy admitted to her that he would remember this gift for the rest of his life. In fact, it was impossible to think of a more suitable gift for someone who turned eighteen.

      Dana constantly worked in public establishments. She started out as a waitress in a cafe in the heart of Heartstone; a couple of years later she moved to a bar, where the clientele was of much lower quality, but the higher salary allowed her to turn a blind eye to this shortcoming. She hadn’t even worked at the bar for six months before Luther Grissom, over a couple of visits, noticed how quickly she handled the delivery of orders, and at the same time knew how to talk with visitors who liked to loosen their tongues when drunk. Luther invited Dana to work for him. The fourfold jump in salary made Dana forget about everything in the world. She was not yet twenty then. Working in Gomorrah, at first Dana did not pay attention to anything other than her duties, counting money that she could not even dream of either in the cafe or in the bar. Then she began to look more and more closely at the details. She made friends among the strippers, with whom she sometimes shared a glass in her free moments, and then – when she was taught – she smoked a cigarette with them several times a shift at the service entrance. As the strippers became Dana’s bosom friends, they began to take notice of her amber hair, long legs and toned skin. They offered her something that was supposed to happen someday. After the establishment closed with the departure of the last customer, her friends began to teach Dana the basics of dance, and when her skills developed to the “passed” level, Luther still agreed to give her the opportunity to perform one dance. Before her debut, Dana was nervous, as usual, but a glass of absinthe has always been an effective remedy for stress. That evening Luther had one less waitress, and when everyone at home learned about the real reason for the busy schedule and rising wages, Dana’s mother was horrified. Father had no time to be indignant. He simply kicked her out of the house. Fortunately, the money that the pole brought Dana was more than enough for an independent life, including rented housing, and six months later she was even able to buy a small house in installments. Honing her skills on the pole year after year, Dana began to enjoy considerable popularity among men. But she rarely went on dates. As a rule, all her intimate relationships were sudden, and the men were often those with whom half an hour passed from the moment she met. Dana was only worried about money and applause in the hall. As Dana’s skills developed, Luther noticed that there were noticeably more local residents among the clients, while Gomorrah was designed mainly for clients who were passing through.

      Dana Host had one feature, unlike the other dancers in Gomorrah. She still couldn’t go on stage completely sober. But if she throws in a glass or two, things will go like clockwork, and she herself liked to dance, but she still didn’t dare do it without alcohol.

      That evening was out of the ordinary. In the afternoon, all the dancers sat down to play cards, where the loser had to dance topless. The agreement was for one dance, but not less than five minutes. The worst player at poker that day was Dana, who never came across a winning combination, and she always had problems with bluffing, both at the table and in life. She had to perform the nude dance. But Dana couldn’t do this at first. The second exit was also not original. The third one is the same story. Realizing that it would not be easy for her to do this, Dana drank one glass before each exit. Rum, whiskey, vodka, martini. On the eighth attempt, the cocktail in her brain began to give her courage and she still did it. But closer to midnight, Dana became too bold and she was sent to the dressing room, where she lay down on a sofa, and woke up closer to two in the morning. Luther ordered her to go home and sleep it off. Alcohol affected Dana not only quickly, but, at times, very strangely. She drank more than half a liter of strong drinks, then slept for several hours, but, having recovered a little from sleep, she immediately perked up, as if she had been drinking coffee instead of alcohol. One of the dancers, whose name was Janine Malone, sat Dana on the sofa, squeezed her cheeks with her palms and said:

      – Sit and don’t move anywhere. Now is my exit. Wait, I’ll come and take you, okay?

      Dana nodded somehow, and as soon as Janine left the dressing room, she immediately stuck her tongue out, put on her red leather jacket, took her purse from her personal locker and hobbled towards the exit.

      So tipsy, Dana left through the service door and went to the parking lot, where her Mini Cooper was parked. Her gait was generally smooth, but her speed was jerky. She walked more than fifty meters and only then realized that she was slightly off course. The car remained in the service parking lot behind the building, and Dana was already a few steps from the road. She was about to turn her body one hundred and eighty degrees, when suddenly she began to hear a roar of a running engine, which was growing with every second. Soon bright scarlet lights of the headlights