When you work in pasties and a G-string and encourage the clients of the Tiffany Gentleman’s Club to sidle up to the runway and tuck large-denomination bills into your garter, you have to expect that now and then matters will get out of hand. But Tiffany headliner Sierra Lavotini is not amused that she’s always in the middle of something nasty. Case in point: Two visiting porn stars, Venus Lovemotion and Frosty Licks, are murdered right in front of her; her on-again/off-again boyfriend, Det. John Nailor of Florida’s Panama City police force, has his car blown up while she watches; her big brother Francis is beaten bloody while waiting for her in her trailer; and someone’s whispering threatening messages to her over the phone and sending her bouquets that are rigged to explode. Does she know something she doesn’t know she knows? Nah. But her ignorance doesn’t stop her from snooping, pretending to be connected to the New Jersey Lavotinis, who made their bones and keep on making them when other families get in their way, and ignoring her boyfriend’s warnings, preferring to thresh through the weirdest complications with the help of her faithful Chihuahua and her outlandish trailer-park chums.
Sierra, a hilarious, foolhardy, and wildly unbelievable exotic dancer, is a first-rate liar who never met an article of clothing she didn’t want to strip off. The fun eventually wears as thin as her outerwear, but not before Bartholomew tosses a few Hiaasenesque absurdities into the audience.