by RJ Hunter
The Head Waiter, who seemed familiar with Frank was immediately on hand and led them over to their table, where he lit the candelabra and clicked his fingers towards one of the waitresses.
Sally was more than pleased that she'd taken Lizzie's advice in the end, and had opted to wear the more elegant, black velvet number, even if it was more daring. A white-jacketed jazz quartet was playing on stage, and although Sally preferred classical music, she felt it blended in superbly with the plush surroundings.
Frank summoned over the waiter by his first name and whispered something Sally, couldn't quite make out. Pierre then went off, only to return five minutes later with a trolley upon which stood an ice bucket containing a bottle of the very best champagne.
"Sir, may I present, Monique." Said Pierre, turning to a pretty, young waitress standing behind him. She will be here to cater for all of your requirements." With that, Pierre opened the bottle with a flourish and proceeded to fill their glasses.
"Thank-you, Pierre," purred Frank, lighting a cigar, and passing a keen eye over Monique, as she smilingly handed each of them a menu.
"So Frank, you must tell me more about yourself, and why you want to buy not only my house, but this place?" Asked Sally, still very much overawed by the surroundings.
Frank laughed and took a healthy sip of his champagne. He then sat back deep in thought, as if searching for the right words.
"I had nothing, Sally when I came out of prison." He said in a husky whisper. "I literally had to start from scratch. In a short space of time, and by sheer hard work and determination I built up one of London's biggest mini-cab companies. Nobody helped me, I did it on my own. That's why I appreciate what you and Lizzie have done with Scarlet's."
"What you did was amazing, Frank. But I can't see how that compares with what Lizzie and I did. We had support, it was easier."
"It's refreshing to hear your modesty, Sally, but Scarlet's is becoming a word-wide brand now, and still growing."
"Like I said, Frank, I haven't had a lot to do with the business since William died. Poor Lizzie has been managing it in my absence."
"Sally, you inspire me so much, I can imagine you rising up like the proverbial phoenix out of the flames and onwards to glory. A woman like you thrives on the cut and thrust, and the excitement of the business world."
"Are you talking about the right person?" She laughed. "I've got as much cut and thrust as a damp squib. You haven't told me about your club, Frank?" She quickly added, trying to get the conversation away from herself.
Again Frank laughed, and Sally guiltily found herself enjoying his company.
"I acquired Lake's way back in the sixties. At the time I had no experience of running a club, but as with the cab business, I made it my priority to learn. I found I loved it, Sally. I love the glamour, the glitz, the personalities, the prestige. I could never imagine myself not running a club. But it wasn't the goldmine I hoped it would be."
Sally saw a hint of sadness in his pale blue eyes.
"But it's in Mayfair isn't it. I couldn't think of a better place for a club?" She remarked.
"Yes, that's true, but there's lots of clubs in the area, bigger and better than mine, but the main problem was the building. The repairs are on-going, you see the building is listed and that causes more problems. It still needs so much doing to it. I want to sell both the club, and the cab business, and buy Swann's." As Frank said the last sentence, Sally saw the excitement in his eyes, like a small boy wanting his first bike or his first air rifle.
"I'm sure you could do it, Frank. You certainly seem to have a knack when it comes to business."
"Yes, I'm sure I could, but I don't want to do it alone. I need someone to help me, someone who I can trust, someone who has the balls to get involved, someone with grit and determination. Someone like you, Sally."
Sally couldn't help coughing on her champagne. She wasn't sure if he was serious or just joking.
"Frank I'm flattered, but I have no experience with nightclubs. I think you've overestimated me?"
"Sally, look at the bigger picture, have a look around you. Look at what the waitresses and the other staff are wearing? Scarlet's could design and provide glamorous uniforms for the whole club. But more importantly look at the space in here. Just imagine a fashion show, put on by Scarlet's and attracting all the top models and fashion houses. That's what you need to be thinking."
It worked, Sally went quiet for a few moments, and was gazing about her, mulling over all the possibilities in her mind.
"I must say, you have amazing insight, Frank. Lizzie would love to meet you again." she said, coming back to reality.
"I've given you food for thought, Sally. By all means talk to Lizzie. Nothing will happen for a while anyway."
Sally studied her menu, and couldn't help noticing the incredibly high cost for each dish. She thought perhaps she should be polite and select the cheapest, which on this occasion was Dover Sole. She put her menu back down and glanced at Frank. She couldn't help feeling that perhaps everyone had got him wrong, and he really was a good person.
"So did you ever marry, Frank?"
Frank didn't want these questions, but he knew they would come eventually, and he was ready for them.
"Yes, I married when I came out of prison, but I'm separated now. She was unfaithful to me."
"Oh, Frank, that's terrible. I'm so sorry, and do you have children?"
"I have a grown up daughter who's working in London, and a son who's about to turn eleven, and lives with my wife."
Sally then heard loud laughter coming from a table off to her left, and by the sound of it, one of the women in the party seemed to be rather drunk. Ignoring the frivolities, Sally turned her attention back to Frank.
"It must have been so difficult for you under the circumstances?"
"Well, we all, have our crosses to bear, Sally. But life must go on. Anyway, that's enough about me. Let's talk about you, and why you're selling such a beautiful house?"
Sally spoke again about losing William, and the dreadful loss she still felt. She then told Frank how she wanted to return to Falcondale and take up her studies once more.
"So like you Frank, I need a fresh start too," she said, her voice betraying the sadness that still lurked below the surface.
Frank had felt very uneasy when Sally had mentioned the suspicious nature surrounding William's death, and how the case was still open. He took a pull on his cigar and looked down at the menu.
"Come on, let's eat. They do a an excellent Chateaubriande here!"
But Sally didn't hear him, she had been too concerned by the drunken, dark-haired woman who had been staring at her since they had first arrived. She didn't know the woman with the short bob, but something about her was disturbing, and it made Sally feel distinctly uncomfortable.
"Sorry, Frank. I didn't hear you, I was miles away."
A few short miles across London, Tina stared up and looked into Nick's eyes. She felt herself go red with embarrassment and appeared quite lost for words. Nick, certainly didn't look too comfortable with the situation either.
"Tina, I'm very glad you could make it. I wasn't sure what you wanted to drink?" He said, eventually, trying to break the ice.
"Bacardi and coke please!" Replied, Tina with a girlish giggle, as Nick attempted to attract the barman's attention.
Laura caught Tina's eye and saw the unmistakeable smile of pure happiness on her friend's face. She knew it would break the girl's heart to tell her there had been a mix up, and Nick wasn't her date tonight.
Handing Tina her drink, Nick sensed there was something amiss.
"What is it Tina, you look a bit bewildered?"
"You're not Spanish are you?" She exclaimed, taking him completely by surprise. "On the telephone you were speaking with a Spanish accent."
"Err, no, I'm not Spanish. I'm English. Anglo-Saxon to be exact." Replied Nick, looking to Laura for help.
"Nick was just telling me that he was so shy
about asking you out, he had to get his friend, Roberto to do it for him!" Added Laura, trying to smooth the situation. "You see the effect you have on men, Tina!"
"Yes, that's right, Tina. I've always been a bit shy. I hope you don't mind?"
Tina giggled again and took a mouthful of her drink.
"No, of course not. I think it was a very romantic gesture. So did you bring a friend for Laura?"
Nick almost choked.
"Err, yes, I did. He's over there. I'll go and get him."
Explaining the situation to Roberto was the easy part, especially after the Colombian had got a glimpse of his new companion for the evening.
Laura squirmed as the decrepit old porter staggered towards her in his cowboy boots, and began to slobber over her hand, as he muttered sweet nothings in his native dialect. Roberto, then turned to address the three of them.
"I want the very best for my senoritas - come! We go to Conchita's!"
"What's Conchita's?" Asked Laura, looking around to Nick.
"Your guess is as good as mine!" Was the reply, as he hailed down a passing taxi.
Roberto was warmly welcomed in the small, squalid Hispanic club near Earl's Court. He generously paid the five pounds entrance fee for each of them, before proudly leading the hesitant group into the smoke-filled claustrophobic atmosphere.
After finding them a table, the animated Colombian ordered drinks all around. He seemed to know most of the other guests, and was making it blatantly obvious that Laura was with him.
Within minutes of them taking their seats, Conchita - the owner of the club appeared. She was a voluptuous, raven-haired woman of about forty, whose clothes and style adequately reflected her Romany origins. She seemed very excited to see Roberto, and made herself comfortable upon his knee. His three companions could only look on in total amazement as Conchita, with a somewhat theatrical flourish, swept the long tresses away from her face, and proceeded to writhe her body on Roberto's lap in a highly erotic manner. The old Colombian wallowed in the attention he was getting, as Conchita ran her fingers though his thick hair and kissed him passionately on both cheeks.
"Eh, Conchita, pretty little thing you are!" He called out, desperately trying to kiss her on the lips.
Mockingly, the woman replied with a stream of insults in her native tongue, before sliding off his lap and daring him to get up and dance.
Rising to the occasion, Roberto stood in the centre of the small dance floor. He began to gyrate his hips and tap the heels of his boots on the floor in tune to the flamenco-style music. Then, upping the tempo, he turned sideways onto Conchita, and with stomach wobbling, began to clap and stamp his feet loudly. The crowd also started to clap and cheer, but this was really for Conchita. She was a professional dancer and soon began circling Roberto, laughing and urging him forward as if she were baiting a bull.
"Why is he just standing there tapping his feet, why wont he dance?" Asked Tina naively.
"He'll fall over if he tries anything more energetic, especially after the amount he's drunk tonight." Replied Nick.
Eventually, Colombian Bob found his rhythm, and began to thrust his hips back and forth, while taking small pigeon steps towards his partner. As he got to within a few feet of her, his tongue began to flick in and out of his mouth in a highly suggestive manner.
Conchita swore again, before spinning her body around in one flowing, graceful movement so that she was now right behind him. The crowd were lapping it up and were cheering and applauding even more loudly than before.
The dance ended, and the beat of the music suddenly changed to the 'Rumba'. Roberto then turned to face her and reverted back to a more socially acceptable kind of routine, as Conchita let out a screeching whoop, and oozed closer towards him. With her slim, lithe body, and skirts flowing she teased and tantalised the Colombian, but never allowed him to touch her body on the dance floor.
Soon, the whole club was up and dancing, apart that is, from Roberto's three guests, who felt distinctly left out.
After a short while, Conchita came over to their table and beckoned the apprehensive trio to dance. Tina by this stage was really quite drunk, and she led Nick off to a separate corner of the room. Laura breathed a sigh of relief, since her supposed partner was still occupied with the effervescent Conchita, or so she thought.
Out, through a thong of dancers, emerged Roberto, sweating profusely and moving his hips like pistons. He bore down on her, wearing his all-too familiar drunken grin. Laura squirmed on her seat, looking this way and that, before resigning herself to her fate.
Unlike Nick and Tina, who appeared to be dancing in a crumpled heap, Laura soon found herself on the retreat as Roberto attempted to show off his dancing prowess. The Colombian drove his drink sodden body to new limits, writhing in front of his pretty, young partner like a man suffering the effects of chronic diarrhoea.
Holding Laura by the hips, he demonstrated in animated fashion, exactly how she should move to the rhythm. Then, as she tried to copy the steps, he moved his damp, matted head close to hers and began to nuzzle her.
On the other side of the club, Nick was becoming increasingly embarrassed by Tina's behaviour. She was bending over and charging at him mimicking a bull, shouting, Ole! Ole! at the top of her voice. Most of the other guests were far too busy enjoying themselves to be concerned with Tina's antics, but after she had staggered into several other dancers and knocked some drinks over, Nick urged her to take a breather and successfully returned Tina to her seat.
It was Conchita who finally came to Laura's rescue. However the wily old bird wasn't about to relinquish his prey that easily. Holding Laura close to him and panting breathlessly, he whispered in her ear.
"Now that I have tasted a glass of you, Laura - I want the whole bottle!"
"Is that all you think about, drink!" Replied, Laura turning her head to escape his rancid breath. She noticed he had been distracted, and a loud cheer went up as all eyes again turned to Conchita, as she slapped a pound coin down, hard on the edge of a table.
The audience chanted Roberto's name, and it wasn't long before the bow-legged hospital porter rose to the challenge. With his eyes fixed on Conchita, he muttered obscenities as he slowly unbuckled his thick leather belt and strode confidently towards her. Conchita screamed with delight, before joining with the crowd to make a half circle around him. They roared their approval enthusiastically as the Colombian first slid the tight leather trousers, then a pair of skimpy black briefs over his pale knees. Both garments settled on the tops of his boots, as he then backed unsteadily towards the table and began to vie for position. The music was drowned out by the cheering and clapping as Roberto made his first sortie over the corner of the table.
The noise was deafening, and both Nick and Laura had to stand on their chairs to see exactly what was going on.
"I think it may be some sort of ritual by the look of it." Exclaimed Nick, as Roberto clasped his hands behind his neck for extra balance, before proceeding to manoeuvre his small hairy buttocks directly over the coin. Then, using what can only be described as a clenching movement, he gazed up to the ceiling with a pained expression on his face, before bending and successfully snatching up the coin with the cheeks of his bare behind.
"I've seen enough," gasped Laura in shock. "I've never seen anything so disgusting in my entire life!"
The crowd were in raptures as Colombian Bob then passed his hand between his legs, relaxed his muscles and watched with pure satisfaction, as the coin dropped into the palm of his hand.
All around the club came the unmistakable sound of more coins being slapped on to tables in eager anticipation. Roberto kept every coin he managed to pick up, and insisted that the loser also buy him the drink of his choice. Roberto was to drink a lot of tequila that night.
Nick and Laura were both equally stunned by Roberto's talents and stared at each other with muted looks on their faces. Tina however, had gone very quiet, and looked a deathly shade of pale. Laura went over to si
t next to her and see if she was alright, but returned to Nick after a few moments.
"She's blind drunk! Can you keep an eye on her for a minute while I call my brother to come and pick us up?"
Nick nodded and sat down next to Tina.
"Why don't I just get you a taxi. Westminster isn't too far?"
"No, I have to get back home to Twickenham. I'm going to Wales for a couple of days with my mother." Replied Laura gratefully.
Colombian Bob reached across the table to steady himself, while lifting his leg in order to get some leverage. The young couple who were sitting at the table certainly weren't impressed by the display going on before them. The woman took a mouthful of pizza, only to hold it in her mouth, fearful that she may be sick at any moment. Her companion put down his knife and fork and stared in amazement as Roberto fumbled drunkenly for the elusive coin. But it was one coin too many. The last few drinks had really hit their target, and Roberto felt the world closing in on him. He opened and closed his cheeks a couple more times in a last ditch attempt to avoid failure. His supporting hand then seemed to slip in a pool of spilt beer, and since his trousers and briefs were now firmly anchored around his ankles for better purchase, Roberto was unable to stop himself from falling.
He saw a few laughing faces flash past on his descent, and the lights temporarily dazzled his bleary eyes. A full ashtray also accompanied him, as he crashed through the adjoining table almost in slow motion. There was the inevitable sound of breaking glass, and a couple of half-hearted screams, before a short eerie silence pervaded. The guests soon went back to what they were doing as an over-turned bottle of San Miguel beer span around a few times, before coming to rest at the edge of the table, where it discharged its contents onto Roberto's up-turned, grinning face.
"No, no, leave him there!" Shouted Conchita to a small group of onlookers, who were about to go to the Colombian's aid. "I'll put a blanket over him later. It wont be the first time!"
When Laura returned from phoning Jonathan, Tina was shouting hysterically at Nick. Nobody else seemed remotely interested in the rumpus, but Laura couldn't help feeling protective towards her vulnerable friend.