The bouncer tried to stop them and ended up on the floor, curled up and gasping for breath. He’d had a rotten night, I thought. As the gang made their way to their favourite table, Linda shrugged and asked a few of the girls to stay on, telling them they could waive their club fees for that night if they did.
I made my way over to the bouncer. Everyone called him Dublin, on account of his accent. God knows what his story was, he never told us anything about his background, but he’d certainly learned to fight somewhere, and the scars on his face showed it. He was a lovely bloke though, if you ignored the vicious beatings he gave to out-of-order punters from time to time. He loved the girls like an uncle and would do anything for them. I brought him a stiff drink and helped him back on to his feet. It always paid to keep the bouncer sweet.
Dublin thanked me and raised the glass to his lips to take a slug when a hand appeared from nowhere and slapped the drink to the ground.
‘I think you should serve your customers before you serve the fucking heavies!’ Desmond spat. ‘Or we not good enough for you?’
He was drunk, and high on something perhaps. I was scared but didn’t let him see. I stood straight-backed and looked him in the eye. ‘What can I get you, sir?’ I asked gently. Remember, ladies, the punter is always right. Especially when you know he has a switchblade in his boot.
‘Get us a bottle of champagne. Bring a glass for yourself too.’ I looked at Linda. I was allowed to accept drinks from the customers. Though not to dance, of course. She nodded, tonight was not the night to say no to Desmond. Dublin watched, eyes like gimlets, ready to take action should it come to it. I desperately hoped it wouldn’t, as Dublin wouldn’t have stood a chance against these four. I brought over the bottle and Desmond patted the banquette beside him. I sat down. Tony watched me from across the table, his face unreadable. I saw he had a cut over one eye. A big night for everyone.
Desmond poured five glasses, overfilling them and finishing the bottle, which he tossed over the back of the banquette. ‘A toast,’ he said, eyes fixed on mine. ‘To getting what you want.’
‘To getting what you want,’ the gangsters chorused while I mouthed the words. I knew too well that getting what you wanted wasn’t always the best thing for you. I sipped the champagne and stared back at him coolly. He didn’t seem to like the fact I wasn’t simpering like some grateful, first-time hooker.
‘Dance for me,’ he said.
‘I’m not a dancer,’ I lied. Though, strangely, this time I wanted to do it. Not for him, but for myself, and maybe for Tony.
He laughed. ‘Oh, I think you are, Jackie. I think you’re quite the little ballerina.’ He watched me react to this, champagne dripping off his double chin.
I gasped in shock, despite myself. How on earth did he know that? My eyes flicked over to Linda, who shook her head slightly, as bemused as I. Desmond had obviously been doing some research. Hardly anyone knew about my past. But why would he take the time?
‘Now dance, Darcey-bloody-Bussell!’ he roared. For the third time I looked at Linda who nodded.
I stood as someone put ‘You Can Leave Your Hat On’ on the stereo. The opening bars thumped out as I walked to the pole and I closed my eyes, feeling the music in my muscles. I stretched languorously as I leaned back from the pole, imagining I was in Guy’s arms in the studio. As the music warmed up I spun and lifted a long leg up against the pole.
Then the chorus hit and I took off my top in one swift movement. There was a sharp intake of breath. No one had asked me to take off my clothes but to me it was all part of the act. I opened my eyes, and as I swivelled around the pole, humping it languidly, I saw Jen and one of the other girls – Amber – watching me, open-mouthed, that hungry look back on Jen’s face. Linda was watching too, perhaps wondering if she should have let me dance before. Then the gangsters’ table swung past my vision. Desmond’s fat face leered at me, along with two of his minions, but Tony’s attention was focused on his boss, a look of pure hatred on his face. Then as I flipped around and hung back off the pole, I saw Dublin, who winked at me. I smiled back. I was dancing. And it felt like I was floating on air.
The future was uncertain, the atmosphere in the place heavy and oppressive. Things were set to change, I knew that, but just at that moment, I felt free. I felt in control, and I felt as happy as I’d been since Guy and I’d been thrown out of the Royal Ballet.
It didn’t last of course. Desmond summoned me over and asked me to give him a lap dance. I hesitated while he waved two fifties at me. Ultimately, it wasn’t the money that persuaded me. I didn’t doubt that he was the type of man to punch out at a woman if she didn’t comply. I climbed on his lap as ‘Danger Zone’ from Top Gun started up. I loved dancing to this song and I knew exactly what to do. I’d watched Jen and the other girls do it often enough. I tried not to grind too hard on him but he kept shoving his pelvis up at me and eventually I just rode him, trying to think of something else, but feeling his dick jabbing into me. I pushed my tits up together and brushed them across his lips. I watched in thinly-disguised contempt as he drooled down his chin.
‘In the back room,’ he grunted.
I froze. Don’t know why but I just hadn’t expected this. What else was he going to ask me to do? Linda spoke up. ‘No, she’s not going back there. She’s my niece, for Christ’s sake.’
Desmond swivelled and shot her a sneering glance. ‘She may be your niece, but she’s also my employee. And I say she goes into the back room with me.’
Linda looked gobsmacked.
‘Oh, didn’t I mention?’ he added, laughing now. ‘I own this place now. Part of our little “business transaction” earlier involved the deeds of this place changing hands. Poor old Col won’t be needing it anymore, not where he’s going.’ Desmond grabbed his drink in one hand, and my wrist in the other. He started to drag me off to the back room.
‘She’s not going,’ Linda said firmly. Dublin stood and moved towards us. Desmond snapped his fingers and his two goons rose to their feet and moved towards Dublin menacingly. He stood firm. As the crooks came near, he unleashed a massive round-house kick that sent one of them sprawling and took the other completely by surprise, unsettling him and leaving an opening. Dublin punched him once, twice in the face and the goon staggered back. But by that stage the first one had recovered and leapt on Dublin, bringing him crashing to the sticky carpet. One of the girls screamed. Jen raced up and began trying to pull the thug off. But the second stepped up and backhanded her across the face, before kneeling down and punching Dublin repeatedly in the face as the other held him down.
‘Stop!’ a voice called out firmly. The goons stopped their punching and turned to look at the owner of the voice. Tony.
Desmond looked at him in surprise. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Don’t stop. Give him a good working over.’
But the goons hesitated. And Tony must have realised this was his opportunity. Tony walked over to Desmond, his eyes flicking over to me for just an instant, and said calmly, ‘Let the lady go, Des.’
Des stared back in amazement. He hadn’t seen this coming. ‘Lady?’ he sputtered. ‘This ain’t no lady. This …’ But he never got to finish as he was suddenly lying on the floor with one of his own teeth in his windpipe, choking him. He coughed and turned a dark shade of purple. Tony merely walked up to him and kicked him hard in the solar plexus. The tooth shot out and rattled across a nearby table.
Tony made a signal to the goons, who seemed to have been expecting this. Maybe, like me, they were just waiting for Tony to make his move. They lifted the dazed Desmond, still struggling for breath, and hauled him out the back door.
‘What’s gonna