Taco Ballz Deep- Chapter Five: It's Glitter Time

"Godlessness," Pete declared. "That's what it is. Godlessness. This entire country is drowning in it."

Una nodded thoughtfully.

"Mmm-hmm."

She had no idea what he was talking about.

Pete and Chris had returned after the dinner rush to use the restroom and conduct what Una had come to think of as their nightly audit of civilization's decline.

Una was only pretending to listen.

At the drive-thru window behind them, one of the dumpster lovers had reappeared.

He was wearing pants now.

Progress.

He'd tapped politely on the glass and asked whether Taco Ballz had anything they were going to throw away.

Una had quietly assembled a box containing four Taco Ballz, fries, and two churros.

She slid it through the window while Pete continued explaining the collapse of Western morality.

The man looked inside.

"Whoa. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Can I get some of that sauce?"

Una added three packets.

"You're an angel."

She smiled.

Apparently someone thought so.

Behind her, Pete was still talking about hell.

Miro leaned against the counter.

"So how many converts did you guys get today?"

Chris's expression darkened.

"Not one."

"None?"

"Not yet."

Miro nodded sympathetically.

"That's rough."

"But I think we're close," Chris added. "This neighborhood has a lot of people who need to hear the message."

Miro looked at Una.

Una looked at Miro.

Together, they slowly turned toward the front windows.

Across the parking lot, the Tilted Beaver glowed hot pink and orange against the night sky.

A neon silhouette of a woman flashed on and off above the entrance.

Una was tired.

Taco Ballz had finally emptied, and she wanted Chris and Pete gone so she and Miro could finish closing.

She pointed.

"Why don't you try there?"

Pete followed her finger.

His face changed.

"The Tilted Beaver?"

"Yeah."

Pete blushed.

Chris looked appalled.

"There are naked women in there."

Miro straightened.

"Oh, they're not completely naked."

Una closed her eyes.

Here we go.

"The state requires certain strategic areas to remain covered," Miro continued. "There's also quite a bit of glitter involved."

Chris frowned.

"That's not the point."

"Then what is the point?"

"We can't go into a place like that."

Miro looked genuinely confused.

"But you said people around here need saving."

"They do."

"Well."

Miro gestured toward the Tilted Beaver.

"Seems to me the people in there need it most."

Una bit her lip.

Miro was enjoying himself.

"You aren't going to let a few boobs scare you away from saving those poor women from eternal hellfire, are you?"

Pete and Chris looked at each other.

Miro shook his head sadly.

"That's disappointing."

Una turned away so they wouldn't see her laughing.

The missionaries moved several feet away to confer.

"I wanted the first woman I saw like that to be my wife," Pete whispered.

Chris hissed something back.

Pete complained again.

Chris finally snapped, "You think I'm happy about this? The first naked woman I ever saw was my grandmother."

Una's shoulders began shaking.

She looked at Miro.

Miro's face had turned red from the effort of remaining silent.

Neither dared make eye contact.

Finally, Chris returned.

"We'll go."

Miro immediately reached into his pocket.

"I'll pay your cover."

Una stared at him.

"You are a terrible person."

He pulled out the day's tip money.

"I'm supporting their ministry."

"You're funding a disaster."

"Same thing sometimes."

Once Chris and Pete crossed the parking lot, Una turned to Miro.

"How long do you think they'll last?"

"I don't know."

"You think they'll run right back out?"

Miro looked through the window.

A slow grin spread across his face.

"I'm going to watch."

"Miro."

He flipped the Taco Ballz sign from OPEN to CLOSED.

The last customer was ushered politely into the parking lot.

Miro locked the door.

Then he turned to Una.

"Come with me."

She looked down at herself.

After nearly twelve hours of work, her yellow polo was wrinkled, her black leggings had a suspicious smear of nacho dust on one thigh, and her hair had long since abandoned the arrangement she'd been so proud of that morning.

"I look terrible."

Miro looked at her.

Not casually.

Actually looked.

His eyes traveled slowly enough to make her conscious of every inch they passed over.

Then they came back to her face.

"You look fine."

Una's pulse jumped.

Fine.

One word.

Stupid word.

Excellent word.

"Come on," he said. "This'll be fun."

Una brushed the crumbs from her shirt and followed.

She liked following Miro.

That realization probably deserved examination at some point.

Not tonight.

There was something about the easy confidence with which he moved through the world that did things to her. Miro never seemed to wonder whether he belonged somewhere. He simply walked in and behaved as though the universe had been expecting him.

Una found that ridiculously attractive.

The Tilted Beaver's bouncer was enormous.

His name tag read JACK.

Chris and Pete were standing in front of him.

Jack was not letting them inside.

"We're missionaries," Chris explained.

"Congratulations."

"We need to speak to the women."

"No."

"We're trying to help them."

"No."

Miro approached.

"Jack."

Jack looked over.

"Wolfgang."

"They're with me."

Jack stared at the missionaries.

Then at Miro.

"No."

Miro slipped him a large bill.

Jack looked down.

Then back at Miro.

"Still no."

Miro added another.

Jack sighed.

"I'm telling Eddy this is all on you."

"Fair."

"If they cause trouble—"

"They won't."

Jack stepped aside.

Pete swallowed visibly.

Chris squared his shoulders.

Una followed Miro through the door.

This wasn't Una's first strip club.

Her previous roommate had been a dancer at the Silkie Pooner and frequently needed rides home after work. Una had consequently spent a surprising number of nights sitting in its dressing room while women removed eyelashes, counted cash, complained about customers, and ate vending-machine crackers in various states of undress.

Being on the customer side was different.

The Tilted Beaver was dark and surprisingly comfortable.

A woman danced onstage to an eighties rock ballad while colored lights swept over her. Another dancer was entertaining a man in a Ford Mustang leather jacket. Several more women sat around the bar talking to customers.

Una immediately headed for the bartender.

"Do you have root beer floats?"

The bartender looked at her.

"Yeah."

"And chicken wings?"

"Yeah."

"Perfect."

She had been at work since nine.

She was hungry.

Behind her, Miro slapped Chris and Pete on the shoulders.

"All right, gentlemen. Get to it."

Pete looked terrified.

Chris looked determined.

Miro, meanwhile, sat down.

Una watched suspiciously from the bar.

A dancer approached him.

Then another.

Then a third.

Una's root beer float arrived.

She took a very aggressive sip.

Eddy, the owner of the Tilted Beaver, appeared from somewhere near the back and greeted Miro like an old friend.

"Wolfgang!"

"Eddy."

They shook hands.

"Heard about Taco Ballz."

"Tonight's the end."

"Shit. Sorry, man."

"Could be worse."

Eddy motioned toward the dancers.

"Take care of him."

Una's straw stopped halfway to her mouth.

Oh.

So that's how this was going to be.

Within moments, Miro had three beautiful women draped around him.

He looked entirely too comfortable.

Una ate a chicken wing.

Hard.

She wasn't jealous.

She'd known him for twelve hours.

There was nothing to be jealous about.

One dancer ran her hands over his shoulders.

Una dipped another wing.

Aggressively.

Miro caught her looking.

His eyebrow rose.

Una immediately took an enormous bite.

He smiled.

Asshole.

Then, without taking his eyes off Una, he pointed toward Chris and Pete.

"These guys came to save you."

The dancers turned.

Chris froze.

Pete looked at the floor.

"Save us from what?" one woman asked.

Chris began explaining.

The dancers listened.

Sort of.

One remained seated on Miro's thigh while another leaned against his shoulder.

Chris attempted to quote scripture over them.

Una nearly inhaled a piece of chicken.

Miro looked delighted with himself.

She hated how sexy he looked when he was being an idiot.

That seemed like an important character flaw.

Possibly hers.

Eventually Miro ran out of singles.

Una carried over her remaining wings.

"Too spicy."

He took one.

"You can't handle them?"

"I can handle them."

"You just said they're too spicy."

"I don't enjoy them."

"That's a different statement."

"Eat your free chicken."

"Yes, ma'am."

He bit into one.

Una sat beside him.

Close beside him.

Closer than necessary, perhaps.

Purty, one of the dancers, brought Miro a beer.

"On Eddy."

"Thanks."

Eddy joined them, wanting the full story about Taco Ballz finally closing.

Across the room, Chris and Pete were still attempting their conversions while looking almost exclusively at the carpet.

Eddy watched for a while.

Then inspiration struck.

"You're doing this wrong," he told Pete.

Pete looked up.

"What?"

"The girls aren't going to listen to you from six feet away."

"I'm trying to be respectful."

"You need to connect."

"How?"

Eddy waved over a dancer.

"Ms. O!"

A woman with dark curls approached.

"Yeah?"

"Help this young man connect."

Pete looked alarmed.

"What does that mean?"

He found out.

Ms. O settled into his lap.

Pete became rigid.

Every muscle in his body appeared to lock simultaneously.

Una grabbed Miro's arm.

"Oh my God."

Miro was already laughing.

Pete attempted to continue.

"As I was saying, the text tells us—"

Ms. O corrected him.

"That's not what that passage means."

Pete stopped.

She continued moving casually with the music.

"You're using the secular translation."

Pete blinked.

"And you're pronouncing that word wrong. Hard U."

Pete finally looked at her face.

Really looked.

His mouth fell open.

"Wait."

Ms. O smiled.

Pete leaned closer.

"Odetta?"

"Hi, Pete."

His face lost all color.

"You know each other?" Eddy asked.

Odetta nodded.

"Same congregation."

Pete looked as though his soul had temporarily left his body.

Then Odetta leaned closer.

"You know, I always had a crush on you."

Una slapped a hand over her mouth.

Miro whispered, "Holy shit."

Pete whispered it too, though presumably for different reasons.

Chris, meanwhile, had migrated toward the stage.

He was attempting to watch without watching.

The dancer noticed.

Naturally.

She moved directly in front of him.

Chris looked left.

She moved left.

Chris looked right.

She followed.

Then she dropped into a move that caused Chris to take three immediate steps backward.

Una was almost finished with her root beer float when Jack hurried across the room and whispered something to Eddy.

Eddy's expression changed.

"What?"

Jack pointed toward the entrance.

Eddy turned toward Miro.

"Miro."

Miro looked up.

"What?"

"Taco Ballz is on fire."

Everything stopped.

Una laughed.

Nobody else did.

Her smile disappeared.

"Wait. What?"

Eddy pointed.

Una and Miro turned toward the windows.

Across the parking lot, orange flames were climbing out of the Taco Ballz kitchen.

Miro shot to his feet.

"Holy shit."

His beer hit the table.

Una abandoned her root beer float.

They ran.

"Call 911!" Miro shouted.

"I thought this place was closing anyway!" someone called after him.

Miro spun around without slowing.

"I DIDN'T MEAN LIKE THIS!"

Una sprinted after him.

The night air hit her face the moment they burst through the doors.

Across the parking lot, Taco Ballz was fully ablaze.

Smoke rolled into the sky. Flames flickered behind the windows. The giant sign glowed through the haze:

TACO BALLZ

Una ran beside Miro.

Neither noticed that Chris and Pete hadn't followed.

Pete was still sitting in stunned silence beneath Odetta.

Chris was still trying desperately not to look at the stage.

And for the first time all day, Miro Wolfgang wasn't laughing.

Taco Ballz was burning.

Una looked at him as they ran.

His face had gone pale.

She remembered what he'd told her earlier.

He'd thought this place would someday be his.

Suddenly, it wasn't funny anymore.

Una reached for his hand.

Miro looked down.

Then at her.

His fingers closed tightly around hers.

Together, they ran toward the fire.