The Continuing Saga of:
”ICICLE BILL and Tommy Two-Head”

Chapter Twelve: G Lu's Last Dance

     From the confident look on the placid face of the girl on stage, you’d wonder why such a beauty would be dancing at Crazy Horse Saloon in Vegas. After all, she seemed to have it all, perfect face, exquisitely proportioned body, flawless tanned skin, eyes that demanded attention, grace and allure that transfixed customers and transferred their money from their pockets to the bar coffers. Why such an outstanding specimen would subject herself to such objectification was something only G Lu herself might be able to explain. But then again, there was something empowering about holding the attention of a room full of people in the palm of your hand. She could make them yell with the right hip movement, or howl with a well timed head and hair swirl. Not to mention the satisfaction of being able to earn a living and put away a little something for the future. Being self-sufficient allowed G Lu a measure of self respect that she always could remind herself of as she bent ass over head to pick up the dollar bills thrown at her by a gaggle of slobbering drunks. The occasional ass slap or titty grope was a stark reminder that this wasn’t Carnegie Hall or the Hollywood Palace. Those precious dreams of a hopeful and optimistic budding starlet were as scarred and dingy as her sagging Miss West Covina sash.

     Just a couple of years ago Gloria was getting out of high school and she had her whole glorious future ahead of her. Her mom had moved the family from the East L.A. barrios to a more suburban West Covina after marrying a mid-level manager from the shoe factory where she’d worked twelve hour shifts for many years in order to feed the kids. Gloria had visions of modeling or acting and on a lark signed up for the Miss West Covina beauty pageant. She made it to the finals and was hands down the best looking girl in the completion. She was also the only one without a nose or boob job. Her heartfelt rendition of Besame Mucho brought tears to her mother’s eyes and the auditorium burst into ovation when Gloria was announced in the final five. When a big breasted bleached blond won the pageant, Gloria began to understand the reality of politics and it’s who you know that meant more than talent or deservedness. The night before the final judging she had seen the bubblehead exiting the suite of one of the judges as she straightened her micro-mini skirt and wiped the make-up smudges from around her lips. Gloria swore that no matter what, she’d never stoop to such low and self debasing tactics for any prize, for any amount of money or any other reason.

     The next year she was back at the Miss West Covina pageant and determined to make it all the way through on strictly talent, and of course on the way she looked in the bikini during the swimsuit competition. The field was pretty stacked that year, a lot of really gorgeous girls. But Gloria felt she had a chance and she also felt she really needed this win for her career and future. It had been a rough year for the family. Her older brother had died in a drive-by shooting. Her paternal twin, Gerardo (he preferred Gangster G) was on trial for a retaliation murder and he wouldn’t allow her to quit the pageant to be at the trial. He convinced her that it would do no good and he wanted her to live her own life and have everything she’d ever dreamed of. He didn’t want his gang life to be the thing that held her back.

     Gloria calculated her chances as the competition neared finale and thought that this year, she might just have an edge, an ace in the hole. One of the judges on the panel was the father of her high school friend, Becky Wick. Judge Wick was an actual Superior Court judge and a respected stalwart of the community. He always recused himself from judging when Becky was a contestant, but she wasn’t in it this year. Gloria only knew him in passing so there was no ethical dilemma in his judging but she hoped that in the private contestant interviews that she would be able to convey to the judge how much the crown really meant to her, her family and her career. She knew the Judge to be intelligent and open-minded and hoped he might recognize the sincerity of her ambition.

     The night of the private interviews, Gloria had been alerted that G’s trial had ended badly. Convicted, murder one. She was an emotional wreck during the interview and broke down in tears. Her world was crashing down along with her hopes and dreams. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing another brother and her own plans seemed to be crumbling as well. Judge Wick was consoling and understanding. He gave her a lecture on how one must fight on and stand up in the face of adversity. As he dried her tears and held her in a comforting embrace, she noticed that indeed, Judge Wick’s erection was standing straight up as he held her.

     Gloria won Miss West Covina and embarked upon an illicit affair with the married Judge Wick over the next few months that left her morally confused and sexually enlightened. The judge’s tastes leaned toward the extreme and she tried to block out the occasions when he had her dress up in Becky Sue’s cheerleading outfit or her old Catholic schoolgirl uniform. It got way too sick when he asked her to wear Becky’s necklace, that was engraved, ”BECKY SUE” ’in diamonds. When he began to insist she call him daddy she knew she had to end it soon.

     It was a shock to the Judge and the community when the local news channel showed up at Judge Wick’s house and reporters began asking embarrassing questions about the Judge’s alleged involvement with a teenage beauty queen from a pageant he had judged. The reporters weren’t interested in the pretty maid leaving the mansion. Although in retrospect they might have put two and two together when the maid drove off in a brand new BMW. It was decided it would be best for all if Gloria disappeared from L.A. for awhile and the payments on the Beemer were quickly and quietly paid in full, compliments of Judge Wick. Gloria made her way to Las Vegas and no one was ever the wiser that the tipster to Channel 7 was Gloria herself.

     She landed in Vegas, put herself through dealer school but realized early on that dealing blackjack wasn’t going to pay the bills. After a couple of incidents with overly aggressive suitors, she got herself a nine millimeter handgun and started hanging out at the shooting range. She also swallowed her pride and began dancing at Crazy Horse Saloon. She blocked out the moralistic naggings that tugged at her conscience and focused on the future with hopes things would get better. And they were. After only a few months word came that her brother was going to get out of prison soon. That made her work with even more determination as now she was working towards something. She’d earn enough for them to be able to move away from all the bad memories and get a new start somewhere, anywhere. Some place where nobody knew them or judged them. Somewhere nice and clean and friendly and safe. As G Lu danced rhythmically she saw nothing but the lights shining in her eyes. She let herself relax and think about how things would be. The words of the depraved Judge Wick echoed in her memory, ”It’s not our successes in life that determine who we are, but it’s how we deal with the failures and adversities that define us.” Someone not so close to the situation might’ve been able to objectively understand the philosophic concept as it pertained to her life and struggles. But after all that G Lu had been through, she just wanted everything to be okay. She had no way to know that life was going to ambush her yet again with a typhoon of adversity. Nor did she realize the footing on which she was to handle that onslaught was as tenuous as the five inch stilettos that supported her lithe frame. Had she known the battle she was about to face, she might have opted for army boots and fatigues as opposed to lime green heels, purple fishnets and leopard print bikinis.

     G Lu didn’t notice Heavy Griz and Blinky Mo enter Crazy Horse and grab a table in the back. She also didn’t see Icicle Bill and Tommy Two-Head arrive a few moments later. What’s to notice? More anonymous customers come in out of the desert heat to wet their parched throats and bask in the air-conditioning and gape at the girls. Just another day. She had no way of knowing that as she leisurely danced, watching in the darkness was the guy that had shot her brother, and the one who had buried him in the desert. The strangers that entered the bar were about to unleash a flurry of fateful events that would forever mark her life and destiny.

     For one final song, Gloria Lupino danced, wonderfully oblivious to the danger that lurked in the darkness beyond the spotlight. It would be G Lu’s last dance.