Cheating on Me Causes Accidents
Stripping adventures in Quebec City
In January of 1976, I had been booked at a big club in Quebec City as a feature stripper for the first time. What should have been an exciting time for me had turned into an unbelievable mess.
My seven-month-long love affair had ended with a disappointing fizzle when I found out my boyfriend's wife was pregnant and he would never be able to leave her. For months he had been telling me that he was working on getting free, all the while knowing that was never going to happen. He was just using me. Stringing me along. When I left my last booking I didn't tell him where I was going, hoping that would end things and we could both go our way without a scene.
The Sunday after arriving in Quebec City, my new friend, Jean Luc, the Master of Ceremonies at the club took me to the hospital emergency room because I kept getting sick to my stomach. The doctor congratulated me on being a month and a half pregnant. Oh, joy.
The next morning in Quebec City was another dark, cloudy, day, the sky bursting at the seams with snow. My stomach was flip-flopping, so I brewed a cup of my friend, Jean Luc’s magic mint tea which, I now knew, would not be curing what ailed me. At some point, I would have to call my agent and tell her the unwelcome news. I was new to pregnant problems, so I wasn’t sure how long I had left to perform onstage before a little hand would pop out of my belly button and wave to the audience.
At around ten in the morning, Jean Luc and his boyfriend, Sol, pulled up outside my door in Sol’s sleek, black Mercedes. Jean Luc pounded on the door, yelling, “Wake up- you cannot sulk all day. We’re going for brunch and you’re coming with us. Get dressed. I will wait.”
I made one last run to the toilet to return the peppermint tea to the ocean so it could swim freely and threw on jeans with a sweater. I grabbed my jacket and jumped around, trying to get my feet into boots without socks, and ran outside to the waiting car.
Like the gentleman he was, Jean Luc opened the back door for me and introduced me to his lover, Sol, “My dear, Tina, this is Sol. Sol, this is my lovely dancer friend, Tina.”
“It is good to meet you, Tina. I must come and see your new show. Jean Luc believes you will become a star.” Jean Luc's extremely handsome lover said.
“Jean Luc is very generous with his knowledge of music and entertainment. I’m fortunate to be working with him- especially these two weeks.” I replied.
Jean Luc asked, “So, have you given any thought about contacting your lover?”
“Yes, and no. I don’t believe I will.” I stubbornly insisted.
“We’ll speak more of this later. I still believe it is the right thing to do.” Jean Luc insisted even more stubbornly and folded his arms across his chest.
Sol glanced quickly over at Jean Luc, then at me in the back seat, and simply shook his head. He was going to brunch with two difficult and stubborn women. “Mon Dieu!”
Sol found a parking lot before we fully entered the Old City. He led us across the cobblestone roundabout to a private restaurant situated in the basement of a 17th Century stone building. Le Bon Repas had seating for fifty and was practically filled when we got there. However, Sol had made reservations, and the maître de gushed all over him before taking us to a quiet table in the corner of the restaurant, near the fireplace.
Oh, my. This was a fancy place. What was going to happen when my stomach rejected the fine fare? I looked around in a panic, finally locating the ladies’ room, and then tried to estimate the running time between the table to the toilet. Thirty seconds, perhaps twenty-five at a trot.
The menu was completely in French, so I had no clue what to order. “May I suggest you order tea and soft-boiled eggs with toast? That may agree with you best.” Jean Luc offered.
“That sounds good. Can you order for me?” I whispered.
“Of course, my dear. You must get a dictionary, so when I am not with you it will be easier for you to get around.” He suggested.
With Jean Luc, it was easy to tell that he was not interested in women, except, perhaps to borrow their wardrobe.
Sol, however, seemed extremely masculine and if I had met him without his paramour, I would never have guessed his sexual persuasion. He was tall and dark-haired with piercing gray eyes, a patrician nose above a healthy salt and pepper mustache, and a chiseled square jaw.
Sol was a bit brusque and direct. It seemed as though he was used to being in a position of authority and simply did not know enough to turn that part of himself off with poor Jean Luc, who often was brought to tears by Sol’s remonstrances. I was a freeloader in their affair, so I kept my nose out of it. I had enough emotional spaghetti piled on my own plate to be interfering with others.
Sol snapped his fingers and two waiters appeared at our table as if they jumped out of Sol’s magical thumb. Amazing. Instant men. What a gift. Sol took over ordering for us and the waiters hustled away. He inspected me across the table and said, “I hope it was not untoward of Jean Luc to share your troubles with me.”
“No. Not at all. I trust him." I assured him, "I don’t agree with him. But I trust him.”
At that, Jean Luc chuckled and replied, “You don’t have to agree with me for me to be correct.”
The waiters magically reappeared without Sol snapping his fingers and laid out the tea and coffee services for us. When they had once again disappeared into thin air, Sol said to me, “Let me ask you, if I may, why you are opposed to contacting your lover?”
Jean Luc interrupted my answer and replied, “She’s simply stubborn, Sol. She thinks she can do this alone.”
Turning his steely gray eyes toward Jean Luc he quietly stated, “Dear, I was talking to Tina.”
I was worried that Jean Luc was going to go for his floral hankie again- but he simply shook his head haughtily and fidgeted with his silverware. This was becoming uncomfortable.
“Jean Luc, you don’t know Jake like I do.” I insisted. “That’s why you think he would want to know I’m pregnant. Believe me, his life is already a mess, and this just makes everything worse. Plus, you keep telling me that a man should know. Unfortunately, Jake is not a man. He is a coward and when things get tough, he hides.”
“Well,” Sol concluded, “that sounds reasonable to me. Jean Luc, not everyone has your tender heart.” He said as a way to ameliorate Jean Luc’s wounded feelings.
Thank God the food arrived, and we could get off the subject of Jake and me. I couldn’t remember the last meal I had that actually stayed where it belonged, and I was starved. The soft-boiled eggs arrived in fancy porcelain egg cups and the toast was freshly baked sourdough dripping in homemade orange marmalade. It may have been the best breakfast I’d ever eaten. Or maybe I was just really hungry.
I sipped my tea and listened to Sol and Jean Luc bicker about their upcoming cruise to Europe. “We went to the South of Spain last year, love. I cannot stand that kind of commercialism. You know that. It has become strictly a tourist trap." Jean Luc whined.
“Well, I am not spending my Summer in the middle of the continent, when beaches are calling us. So, no to going to Switzerland again.” Sol declared.
Oh, to have my choice of cruises to worry about. What a luxury that must have been. Instead of cruises, I was worried about how many more months I had to dance and how I was going to save up enough money to take care of myself until the baby was born. Having already tested my hometown friends’ loyalties and found them lacking when my knee had been dislocated the previous year and I was unable to work. This was going to be on me. I could not depend on anyone else- least of all Jake.
Sol and Jean Luc bickered all the way back to my hotel and I was happy to get out of the car and trade the noisy conversation for some peace and quiet in my room. Having bid them adieu I went back into my pink, frilly sanctuary for a nap. For the first time in months, the meal did not demand escape from my stomach. Good thing, because I would need all my strength later that evening.