I wasn’t ready for Debi’s reaction the day she got cut from the Mitchell Brother’s club dancer schedule. After seven years of continuous stripping service, she did not see it coming— I don’t think any veteran does.
I knew something bad happened. She picked me up in her Saab and started gunning down Divisadero Street, through the Castro, barreling through 24th Street, barely missing babies in strollers.
“What IS IT?” I said. I wanted to grab her hand but I was afraid to touch her.
“It’s what I always told you, it’s what I told everyone; they call you in, and you’re telling them you don’t want to work Wednesdays next month and all of a sudden, they’re like, ‘Why don’t you take a break; we don’t have anything open right now.’”
“What does that mean?”
“Yeah, right!” She blasted the AC and rolled down all the windows…