Thus the birthday trip to a strip club. It was not a ritual that Malcolm actually enjoyed all that much either, more an almost underhanded reminder that neither man was innocent. Still, a good tiem could be had if Malcolm was willing to just forget for a night. Shawna was lied to, told that Carltios was taking him out to a Casino, Maya knew the truth and had no problems with it, and then Malcolm was thrown into the back of a rented van so that Carlitos' friends could drag Malcolm out for the night. It was weirdly reminiscent of when Carlitos had allowed the Barrio Boys to jump Malcolm, his initiation to the gang and the night Reaper had started to really come to fruition. 
                              
When they pulled up outside of Suede's, Malcolm gave out a bark of laughter, knowing exactly what kind of reputation this strip club had. It was away from down town and the more populated places, giving it a little more shadey room to play in the dark. There were drug deals, prostitution and probably a fair share of communicable diseases rampant inside the doors, and the faded brownish gray brick exterior looked as drab and worn out as the women inside would. They could have gone to a better club, all of them here were able to afford to, but Carlitos and Malcolm had been to much, much worse back in Madrid and this was a tip of the hat to those moments in Malcolm's past. It was almost nostalgic when he stepped in the doors, the buried pressure of Reaper rolling over a little, as if waking up from a long hibernation. 
                              
The lights were dim, but Malcolm's nose was keen enough to pick up the smells of unwashed bodies, hot plastic and the faintest whiff of illegal narcotics. His trained eyes spotted two or three drug deals and he wondered if there would be blood drawn before the night was out. Not that it mattered to him, as long as his group was left out of it. Here in Canada there was no record of his past, no hint that he was anything other than a mild mannered English teacher with an exotic heritage. On stage was a woman who was closer to forty than thirty, her waist thicker than she wanted it to be, but her blody still slender enough that she could strip without turning stomachs. However there was a softness to her skin that wasn't attractive, not the butter softness of youth, but the crepe softness of age and deterioration. Her naughty police attire only made the lines around her mouth seem harsh and Malcolm resisted the urge to laugh at her come hither smile. 
                              
His group sat down, Carlitos' wheelchair all but demanding that they sit at the edge of the stage, the booths had no room for him. And because it was Malcolm's birthday, they had him sitting front and center of the group. He sighed and went along, knowing that there was no point in arguing with them. The hag cop finished her routine and flounced off the stage with winks and blown kisses but Malcolm just endured in silence. Music started to pump, a new song and a new set starting and he wondered just how horrible this next routine was going to be. 
                              
To his surprised it wasn't another crone strutting out on stage. This woman looked too good to belong to a dump like this and her sheer presence made Malcolm sit up a little straighter. The woman was tall, just a couple of inches shy of six foot, and her skin had a darker tan to it that made him wonder at her ancestry. The candy colour red her plastic devil dress actually looked good against the natural tan, and the fishnets on her mucled legs somehow didn't look cheap. The absurdly tall heels she wore only added to how towering the woman looked, but it was the hints of a tattoo that really drew Malcolm's eyes to her. There was a natural grace to the dancer's moves as she strutted around the stage, not the experience of a stripper giving her a glide, but the native talent of someone who should be doing productions, not voyeur pandering. She crouched down in front of the pole, the splay of her legs making Malcolm's friends catcall and cheer as a white thong flashed and teased before she wound back up. The red dress was discarded with a practiced flick of the wrist and Malcolm could see the white thong and bra clearly, the tattoo the stripper had more fully exposed. The guys around him were going wild, drinking and acting more rowdy than they needed to because that seemed to draw the dancer over to them. He should have known they were up to something, these guys always were, but he couldn't really tear his eyes off of the dancer to notice their plans.