Deadlocked: A Sookie Stackhouse Novel

nodding emphatically enough to make her chestnut hair swing back and forth.
    “You’re a lucky woman,” Michele chimed in. “And your babies are going to be so gorgeous and coordinated.”
    We didn’t know how much was too much to say, and we were all relieved when a loud chorus of “Born to Ride Rough” announced the performance of the guy in leather. He was at least part demon, of a stock I hadn’t encountered before; his skin was reddish, which my companions interpreted as Native American. (It didn’t look anything like that to my eyes, but I wasn’t going to say any different.) He did have black, straight hair and dark eyes, and he knew how to shake his tomahawk. His nipples were pierced, which was not my special turn-on, but it was a popular touch with many members of the audience.
    I clapped and I smiled, but in truth I was beginning to feel a little bored. Though Eric had I had not been on the same emotional wavelength lately, we had been operating very well with regard to sex (don’t ask me how this could be so). I began to think I was spoiled. There was no such thing as boring sex with Eric.
    I wondered if he’d dance for me, if I asked him nicely. I was having a very pleasant fantasy about that when Claude reemerged on the stage, still in his spangled tights and boots.
    Claude was completely confident that the whole room could hardly wait to see more of him, and that kind of confidence pays off. He was also incredibly limber and flexible.
    “Oh my God!” Michele said, her husky voice almost breaking. “Well! He hardly needs a partner, does he?”
    “Wow.” Holly’s mouth was hanging open.
    Even I, who had already seen the whole package and knew howdisagreeable Claude could be—even I was feeling a little jolt of excitement down where I shouldn’t. Claude’s pleasure in receiving all this attention and admiration was almost blissful in its purity.
    For the grand finale of the evening, Claude leaped off the stage and danced through the crowd in his man-thong. Everyone seemed determined to unload all their remaining dollar bills—and their fives and a few tens. Claude distributed kisses with abandon, but he dodged more personal touches with an agility that almost betrayed him as other-than-human. When he approached our table, Michele tucked a five under his G-string, saying, “You earned this, buddy,” and Claude’s smile glinted back at hers. Then Claude paused beside me and bent to kiss me on the cheek. I jumped. The women at the surrounding tables shrieked and demanded their own kisses. I was left with the glow in his dark eyes and the unexpected chill left by the touch of his lips.
    I was ready to leave a big tip for Gift and get out of there.
    Tara drove back, since Michele said she was too tipsy. I knew Tara was glad to have an excuse to be silent. The other women were providing cover chatter about the fun they’d had, trying to give Tara space to come to terms with the events of the evening.
    “I hope I didn’t enjoy it too much,” Holly was saying. “I’d hate it if Hoyt went to a strip club all the time.”
    “Would you mind it if he went once?” I asked.
    “Well, I wouldn’t like it,” she said honestly. “But if he was going because he was invited to a stag party or something, I wouldn’t kick up a fuss about it.”
    “I would hate it if Jason went,” Michele said.
    “Do you think he’d cheat on you with a stripper?” Kennedy asked. I was sure it was the liquor talking.
    “If he did, he’d be out the door with a black eye,” Michele saidwith a derisive snort. After a moment she said in a milder voice, “I’m a little older than Jason, and maybe my body isn’t quite what it used to be. I look great naked, don’t get me wrong. But probably not as great as the younger strippers.”
    “Men are never happy with what they’ve got, no matter how good it is,” Kennedy muttered.
    “What’s up with you, girl? You and Danny have a fight over another woman?” Tara asked bluntly.
    Kennedy turned a bright, hard look on Tara, and for a minute I thought she’d say something cutting. Then we’d have an open quarrel. But Kennedy said, “He’s doing something secret, and he won’t tell me what. He says he’s gonna be gone on Monday/Wednesday/Friday mornings and evenings. He won’t say where he’s going or why.”
    Since the fact that Danny was totally smitten with Kennedy was obvious to the dimmest bulb, we were all struck silent with astonishment at her