The Pink Room-Slam Rp

[Do I make you Randi, baby?]

The pulsating music of Nine Inch Nails vibrated the cement parking lot of The Pink Room, one of New York, largest “classy” strip clubs on the outskirts of Hell’s Kitchen. The oh, so familiar Dodge Charger hums along slowly into the valet parking, (yes, valet parking at a titty bar!) and comes to a complete stop beside the front door. As the driver’s side door swings open, Apolo Young emerges, the juggernaut he is and all, dressed sharply, yet casually. His shoes make a soft, pat pat, against the concrete as he tosses the keychain to a scrawny redhaired man dressed in a black valet’s vest. Apolo holds his left hand out to halt the valet from hopping into the car just yet. With one quick motion the passenger side door pops open as two luscious bare legs ease out. Two perfectly pedicured feet are snuggly fit into open toe red stilettos. Easy on the eyes, Randi Justice takes Apolo’s left hand helping her out of the car. She smoothes her hands over her sheer red lace dress, (quite similar to what Cassandra wears in Wayne’s World.) One quick glance over the exterior of the building, she nods in approval to Apolo and allows him to clear the path for her entrance.

Inside: The room is darkened to the perfect mood setting light slightly illuminated by neon pink signs, black lights, and strobes. To the immediate left, the large DJ booth equipped with large speakers, turn tables, and MC, pounds out “American Woman”, redone by Lenny Kravitz. To the immediate right, a barrage of hot pink table cloths, black leather cushioned booths, and hundreds of overly excited male faces all add the typical strip club persona to this more than typical strip club. Randi’s eyes rise above the floor area to the upstairs where four cages have been strategically placed around the room. Each cage holds its own classy exotic dancer. Behind them, the upstairs balcony is full of assorted floor women, strippers, several Champagne rooms, and paying customers.

Apolo leads Randi through the thick mass of patrons towards a front table in the center of the room. The table is cleverly placed at the middle tip of the “catwalk like” dance floor. He carefully slides a chair out and allows Randi to sit. Without hesitation, Apolo takes the seat to her left, leaving one open seat at her right. Randi lightly snaps her fingers as Apolo reaches into his shirt pocket and retrieves a cigarette for her. He then removes an engraved Zippo lighter and lights it for her. Randi exhales the smoke away from his face and gives him a once over.

Randi: I always let my bitches light my cigarettes for me.

Apolo chuckles as he places the lighter back into his pocket.

Apolo Young: I always light my bitch’s cigarettes.

Arching an eyebrow, Randi eases out a comfortable and amused smile of satisfaction.

Randi: Touché, Apolo. If you are lucky, I might buy me a lap dance. If you are really lucky, I might just buy you one too.

On stage: The music continues to scream through the room as a petite blonde no older than twenty swings in circles around the pole. Dressed cleverly to match her music, She gyrates slowly hypnotizing the viewers with the “wave of the American flag.” Randi exhales in pure disgust as she eyes Apolo carefully. His eyes seem dull and uninterested as the girl crawls slowly across the floor towards them. Apolo turns his back slowly to face Randi. As the girl frowns in disgust at them, Randi simply shrugs her shoulders back as she flicks the cigarette.

Apolo Young: Americans. Down right bloody, filthy creatures if you ask me. Give me a Canadian strip joint anytime.

Randi: Oh really now Apolo, we mustn’t make a scene just yet. Our distinguished guest has yet to arrive. You are right, however. I am not sure what it is with American women, but there is more plastic in this one room than there is in the entire Fischer-Price toy factory. Yet, it does have a very tasteful glow to the room, does it not.

Apolo: I prefer cheap and sleazy, but I guess this will do. At least at the sleazy joints, you are guaranteed to get your dollar’s worth.

Randi: Oh look she’s gone.

The music ends as the “patriotic” blonde leaves stage. “I am Your Boogie Man” by KC and the Sunshine band primes up the room.

DJ: We now present to you, The Pink Room’s most jive dancer’s Foxy Freak and Chocolate Love.

Two beautiful light skinned African American women come on stage dancing provocatively with one another. Apolo extends two five dollar bills to them. The one known as Chocolate Love, thrusts her pelvis towards his face as his places one bill into her g-string. He does the same for Foxy Freak.

Randi: Where the hell are the floor girls? All preoccupied giving overly priced lap dances. Find me a waitress or else The Pink Room will quickly turn into the red room as I pull a Jack the Ripper and cause a stripper massacre. I need my hourly martini or else I get very bitchy. You don’t want me to get bitchy, do you Apolo?

Apolo turns and whistles towards the bartender. He then points to Randi as she continues to watch the women dance and smoke her cigarette. A bouncy, overly perky waitress waltzes to their table sending shivers of disgust down Randi’s spine with her sharp perky voice.

Waitress: My name is Krissy, what can I get you sir and missy! *annoying giggle giggle* You like it?! I made it up…just then as I was thinking…

Randi: Do you get paid to think, Krissy? No, I don’t think a stripper gets paid to think. Now I’ll have a dry martini with two Spanish olives. He will have a redheaded slut. The drink, Krissy, not one of your topless friends from upstairs.

The girl smiles cheerfully, obviously oblivious to the wise cracks, and prances off to fetch the drinks.

Randi: I absolutely hate overly happy people. It is as if they believe their one goal in life is to make the world a better place by attempting to cheer up ever glum face they see. If I wanted to be overly happy, I would smoke a fat blunt with Devon and watch Sesame Street. But, no, I choose to be bitchy and aggressive and people like “Prissy Krissy” make me want to pound my head against the cement floor until I render myself unconscious, give myself a concussion, or fall into a coma…whichever comes first.

Apolo: I think I’d rather you pound her head, but it’s your choice, Randi. So what time is he supposed to be here?

Randi carefully extinguishes her cigarette.

Randi: Within the next hour or so. I told him not to rush so just be patient, hon. He will be here in all good time, and then we can talk about the revolution and invasion.

Apolo (laughing): You talk as if we are La Resistance.

Randi: Our little ensemble will be more powerful than La Resistance ever was. In a way, I almost feel sorry for our co-workers. They really have no idea about what I have in store for them. No one expected someone like me to ever waltz in and bitch slap the women’s roster. And, you! Ha, you were more shocking than Jamie Black’s hideous outfit in the Queen of the Christmas Ball match.

MC: And now, The Pink Room presents Texas Hold Me!

A large breasted brunette woman dressed in chaps and a bikini top “gallops” her way on stage as “Rodeo” by Garth Brooks begins to play. Krissy, the prissy perky pain in the ass, arrives with their drinks placing them carefully down.

Krissy: That’ll be eight-fifty.

Randi hands Krissy a ten dollar bill and waves her off. Quickly ridding of their drinks, they turn to face Texas Hold Me and her ridiculous display of “sexy and awkward.” Randi sighs and reaches for another cigarette. Apolo watches from the corner of his eye as her slender fingers brush against his thick chest and into his pocket. He swallows hard easing back the “growth” as the scent of her perfume lingers around his position.

Randi: Would you look at this girl? She looks like a mentally challenged, big breasted fool. I’ve seen more talent in the back allies of the Bronx than in this dump.

Apolo: Perhaps you should come back on amateur night and show these girls what erotic dancing really is supposed to look like?

[Do I make you Randi, baby?]

Randi: Amateur night? Apolo, let’s get one thing straight, Randi Justice is not an amateur at anything. Especially not at being sexy and turning men on! Hell even Ivana could appear more attractive than these filthy skanks. She could stand on stage dressed like the Flying Nun and read from Corinthians and I’d rather stuff a ten dollar bill in her skirt than this piece of trash. Which reminds me, I only have two days before I can get my hands on that little bitch again.

Honestly, the nerve of some women! Who does “Little Miss Holier Than Thou” think she is by taking my whip and using it against me? She better be glad Amerie and Brittney Bailey interrupted our little feud because I was about to yank her bald for that one. By the way, thanks. Not that I needed your interference, but I am glad you were there.

Randi leans across the table and gently kisses Apolo’s cheek. She leans back admiring the next dancer. Randi had purposely forgotten to hear her name; however the music was quite nice.

Randi: You know, Apolo, I think after your great display of a job well done, you deserve a lap dance.

Randi flagged down Krissy once more.

Krissy: Need more drinks?

Randi: Yeah, just bring us a tray of jello shots and find my friend here the most expensive lap dancer in the building.

Krissy: Will do, missy!

Randi: If she does that again, I am going to have to choke a bitch.

“Cold Hard Bitch” by Jet began to play as a very beautiful young woman emerged from the backstage area. Randi focused her attention back to Apolo.

Randi: Speaking of Ivana, I was thinking last night about her little name. “God’s gift.” She’s very high and mighty if she believes she’s anybody’s gift, let alone the all powerful and the all knowing. Really now, “God’s gift” seems a little conceited for someone as humble as Little Christian Annie. I mean, f*ck, my name mean’s “Wolf Shield” but you don’t see me prancing around the backstage dressed like Pocahontas. Which the entire matter is ironic. If I remember correctly God hates the sin but he loves the sinner. We all know that I have more skeletons in my closet than I do underwear, therefore he obviously must love me more than his little gift.

Apolo: Well that is one warped way of looking at it.

Randi: I know and to be even more ridiculous, I even looked it up in a baby name’s book, and it actually means “God is gracious.” I was very bored that day. However, off the topic of her silly little Slavic name, I was thinking about her purity and her faith and I began to think of when I was a child. My mother used to wake us every Sunday early for church. My mother the alcoholic, that is.

Every Sunday she would pull us from the warmth of our beds and doll us up in our Sunday best so she could parade us around church like a wholesome family with morals and values. I never really understood who she really was trying to impress because everyone in that part of Calgary knew my mother was nothing more than a filthy drunk.

But still, for some odd reason, in her sick twisted mind, she believed that even God, the all knowing, couldn’t pick her as the alcoholic out of a police line up. All because she forced the appearance and attitude of the perfect Christian mother onto those we passed. Now what the hell does this have to do with Ivana? Absolutely everything. You see no matter how pure and wholesome you are on the outside; on the inside is what matters. Because although others may not be able to see the darkness that lies within, the all knowing can.

No one is perfect and I refuse to believe that Ivana is. Why, the holy daughter has turned to violence for a means of work! Ivana is just as warped as anyone else in this world. She’s no purer than some two dollar street rat. Yet, she’s convinced herself that her new found faith is and her devotion is going to fuel her success in Valor.

I hate to burst her bubble, but she’s going to need more than his holiness on her side. Praying and saying her Hail Mary’s aren’t going to win her anything except maybe a Christian of the Year award. In the ring, I call the shots, and Ivana’s going to be literally praying to God for me not to rough her up too bad.

Krissy returns with the drinks, Randi pays her. A few seconds later, a raven haired Asian beauty arrives. She is cutely dressed like a cat.

Stripper: Someone over here needs a lap dance. I can tell with all the sad faces. $100 and I’ll make your night worthwhile.

Randi: Tell you what, I’ll pay you $50 and you can call it even.

Stripper: Look, I’m the best dancer this place has. I’m not some cheap tart. $100 or no dance.

Randi: Look, Miss Kittie, unless you want me to claw your eyes out and hand them to you on a silver platter, I suggest you take the fifty and start grinding on my man friend here.

The stripper reaches for the bill. Grabbing it tightly she tries to tear it from Randi’s hands. Randi snatches her wrist with her free hand and squeezes.

Randi: I am not paying you to get an attitude. I am paying you to pretend like you want to f*ck my bodyguard. Now, unless you want me to break this and keep my money, I suggest you start pretending you love him.

The stripper carefully removes the bill from Randi’s hand and begins her dance for Apolo.

Randi: That’s a girl. Well, Ivana isn’t my only concern. I’m going to have to keep my eye on Brittney Bailey as well. The little princess is known for her little conniving sneak attacks. Not to mention that man of hers. I’d hate to have to slap someone as fine as Eric Hardcastle around for trying to keep me from disfiguring her Barbie doll face. I’m glad Amerie is at least on my side.

The stripper wraps one leg around the chair in which Apolo sits and begins to rub herself on him. She places her breasts in his face and shakes softly. Apolo's face flushes as Randi continues to rant as if he were not receiveing a lap dance at all.

Maybe she’ll do her part in our match and keep Brittney off of me long enough for me to knock the hell out of Ivana. It won’t take long. Neither Brittney nor Ivana belong in the ring with me. Brittney is just the trophy bitch of Hardcastle. Someone to look pretty by his side while he makes all the money and gets all the fans. Ivana at least has some talent, but she’s still not in my league. She’s more of a kind hearted innocent. I almost feel bad slapping them both around. Especially poor defenseless Brittney.

Of course out of all the divas backstage, Brittney and Amerie are the only other “threats” to anything. If this were a beauty contest I would have a run for my money. Not that Ivana is ugly as hell, but she has the look of a seventeen year old band camp girl. She reminds me of my brother Matt except she’s not a man and he’s gay as hell. Of course, she’s more of a man than he is.

The stripper begins to gyrate slowly on Apolo's lap as he stuffs a five dollar bill in her top. The stripper smiles weakly as Randi watches her like a hawk.

Nevertheless, Amerie better make damn sure she’s got my back because as soon as I get double teamed because she’s not paying attention, the match will turn from tag team to an all out war. I already despise the fact that I have to work “well” with others, but I’ll get my full out revenge on Ivana by Wreslefest. Whatever the case may be, I am not walking out of that arena with my first loss and especially not to the hands of two lower level divas like Ivana and Brittney bailey.

If Amerie is wise, she’ll follow my lead. Until Sunday, we celebrate. Because not only am I going to mop the mat with them, I’m going to introduce our big surprise.

As Apolo’s lap dance continues on, Randi turns in her seat to see if their guest has arrived. A large satisfied smile crosses her face as we hear the sound of a man call out to her right before the screen fades.