Lil was not in the mood for her tonight and whereas she usually listened politely to the girls' petty grumbles and let them get them off their chests, tonight she couldn't be bothered. In fact, she was feeling positively aggressive. As Ivana walked purposefully towards her she knew it was going to be another twenty minutes of pointless griping; insinuations that Lil didn't know what she was doing and if she would just listen to what she was being told she would learn something of merit. The girl was a brass and, when all was said and done, that was the sum of her life experience. She had the hard eyes and the blank look of a woman who had slept with too many men in too short a time. Lil wasn't in the least bit interested in entering into any kind of dialogue with her.
'What is wrong with you now, Ivana? Is the floor too near your fat arse? The punters not tall enough? What?' Lil was blunt to the point of rudeness, as she had intended to be.
Ivana opened her arms in a gesture of futility; her slim body was encased in a cream boob tube and a black leather miniskirt. Her long, blond hair was styled to perfection and her make-up was flawless.
Lil was generous enough to admit that the girl was absolutely lovely; far too good for this club. She should really have been on someone's books earning a fortune and flying all over the world meeting rich Arabs, secure in the knowledge that they would pay her exorbitant amounts for her body and her discretion. That way she would have at least had the opportunity to marry someone with a few quid. A lot of older men were willing to buy the girls with marriage and make them respectable in the eyes of the world, if not in the eyes of their Soho counterparts. Instead, the silly bitch was here and arguing the toss every night like some kind of fucking shop steward. Lil knew there was a hidden agenda, there always was. Girls like Ivana saw everyone as a mark eventually; they used everyone in their orbit through sheer force of habit.
'Look, Lil, I am only trying to make this a better place to work in; we could earn a lot more money, you included.'
Loud music then filled the club as a stripper walked on to the small dance floor. She was a Soho veteran, in her thirties, and she had her act off pat. Three minutes of pure semi-naked pleasure and for the last ten seconds, total nudity. Of course it seemed much longer to the audience. Like everything in Soho, it was an elaborate charade. It promised the earth while actually delivering next to nothing. The stripper would go from club to club throughout the night, with her music tape and her costumes. She would earn a set amount for each strip and still be able to have an Equity card and class herself as an exotic dancer.
Lil knew Soho like the back of her hand and to have someone like this girl standing in front of her, hands on hips and a face like thunder, trying to educate her, was beyond belief. She grinned at the utter stupidity of the Ivanas of the world and, pushing her face close, she said loudly and with menace, 'Look, sweetheart, you are a brass, right, pure and simple. I know you have a high opinion of yourself and what you think you can do but this is a hostess club. Therefore, I can't earn off you girls unless I have favourites, and they would then be obliged to give me money and this would be to make sure I seat them with the best punters, wouldn't it? But what about the other girls, the ones who are not as fresh as they once were; how will they react, do you think? Well, I'll tell you, shall I? They will murder you without a second's thought, darling. Now, I know you feel you are being exploited and that is probably because you are. So shut the fuck up, go back to the meat seats and let me get on with my job, eh?'
Lil was loud enough for anyone who was interested to hear what had been said. She was angry enough to make the girl think twice about arguing any more. Ivana looked as if she was about to cry. Instead, she walked back to her seat and Lil rolled her eyes at the ceiling, making the older girls laugh. They knew Lil could have a row if necessary and that Ivana could find herself on the receiving end of a well-aimed punch. Like Lil, they had seen better days and understood the value of youth in their chosen occupation.
Going up to her office, Lil poured herself another drink, and as she felt the vodka taking hold she closed her eyes tightly. She had seven children ranging in age from twenty to eight and she was no better off now than she had been ten years ago. She had no money, no real job and her son was just out of prison and already hiding guns in her house. One of her twin daughters was unable to talk to her about what was bothering her and something was definitely bothering her, she knew. Her youngest children had basically been abandoned by their father, who would not even take any of her calls. The worst thing of all was that she had a terrible feeling she was pregnant again. She had drunk more than was good for her and slept with an old friend, more for the companionship and to ease her loneliness than anything else. Now she was like a young girl; terrified she had been caught out.
Life seemed to make sure she had one kick in the teeth after another. Every time Lil thought life was going to get better for her and her family, she was proved wrong. Her eldest son was home again and she could rejoice about that much at least. But Lance was once more like his shadow and even though she hid her feelings well these days, she still wouldn't trust him as far as she could throw him.
Lil swallowed her drink down quickly and poured herself another; she had fifteen minutes before she did her weekly check on the girls for track marks. She had never ever allowed junkies to work her tables, they were aggressive, always in need of money and they aged before their time. They always tried to hustle the punter for money too quickly and that caused problems for everyone, not just the hostesses. It was a hard job in its own way, making sure the club ran smoothly, and she had been doing it for years. She had a feeling that was what was bugging her. As she poured herself another drink, Lil heard Lenny's loud voice approaching her office and she knew then, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was truly cursed.
Patrick was trying to forget that his mother was working in a hostess club and to remember that he was on the out and needed to take care of his family. Kathy and Eileen were his biggest worry. Especially Kathleen; she was not right at all and the time away had emphasised to him just how strange she had become.
'Come on, Kathleen. What's wrong, mate? You seem so sad, darling.'
She shook her head gently and Patrick knew he was not going to get anything from her. She had always been quiet but he didn't remember her as quiet as she was now. In fact, she hardly spoke unless spoken to and even then she seemed almost startled, as if she couldn't believe someone had actually spoken to her personally.
'I'm fine, Pat, really.'
She sounded sincere enough but he was still worried about her. He changed tack so she wouldn't feel intimidated by his questions. 'How's school? You doing all right?'
Kathleen nodded and he was struck again by just how much she looked like her twin, and yet when they stood side by side, she looked washed-out in comparison. Kathleen was like a cheaper version of her energetic and vivacious sister and it was because of her permanent sadness. She had a deep and abiding hurt that sat in the back of her deep-blue eyes and nothing seemed able to shift it. When Eileen was near her she seemed much more relaxed in herself and happier but when Eileen was out and about, Kathleen retreated back into herself and only Lance seemed able to get through to her.