by Kirsten Lee
We reach our row and I am surprised at how packed the place is. It is a large theatre that must seat at least a thousand people and I only spot the occasional empty seat. Since this is my first visit to a casino theatre, I don’t have much experience to draw on, but I am sure that compared to other theatres like this one, it gives the others a good run for their money. It is the most impressive modern theatre that I’ve been to.
As Murphy’s law dictates, our seats are in the middle of the row and we have to squeeze past ten people to reach it, all the while muttering apologies. A gentleman whose legs are too long nearly trips me up, but I recover with aplomb and immediately receive a glare from Ray.
“Can we at least reach our chairs without an episode?” he hisses at me. At this moment he reminds of Erin, and I smile inwardly at the gay men in my life constantly getting annoyed with me. I respond to his hiss with the same sneer I usually use on Erin and think of how my best friend would love this place. We reach our seats and I concentrate on sitting down without providing a show before the real show begins. I manage to sit without any mishap and gratefully, with a quietly disguised sigh, let out my stomach. Oh yeah.
“It was truly fabulous!” I can’t remember when last I enjoyed a show so much. The ‘girls’ were outrageously funny and highly skilled. The cabaret show was top class, from the music to the choreography to the humour with which it was presented. My hands are still red and smarting from the very lengthy applause they received at the end of the show. It took Ray and me a lot of fortitude and willpower to fight our way through all the ageing necklines and diamond cuff links to reach the back stage again. We’re met with twelve sweating, smiling and very loud ‘ladies’ who are obviously on a post-performance high.
“Darlings, look who’s here!” Venus spots us first and the whole groups turn to us. “How did you enjoy the show, Flower?”
“I loved it,” I say with sincerity. “It’s amazing how you move with these outfits. I would never be able to do that.” And that is the truth. Manoeuvring my way across a floor in this outfit requires concentration. I can’t even imagine having a tight little leather skirt with platform boots, or a ballroom gown with those spiky sandals. These people move with amazing grace. I’m a disgrace to my gender.
“Oh Possum, all it takes is a bit of practice. You’re doing famously in that little outfit of yours. I would just die to have a bosom like that.”
“Oh yes, is it real?” Fiona asks longingly and moves in for a closer look. All of a sudden I have twelve drag queens and Ray staring at my chest trying to figure out the authenticity of it and I feel very afraid they will ask to touch my girls in another moment. Ray must’ve sensed my discomfort, because he’s the one who breaks the spell.
“Well, I am sure that Ms Fields would like to keep some secrets.” He gives them a look that would halt any comments they had planned. “We’re going to explore the floor and will meet you at the usual place a bit later. Give me a call when you ladies are ready.” Once again Ray takes me by the elbow and leads me out of a potential embarrassing situation. For this I’ll forgive him for telling me this afternoon that his auntie Sue dresses sexier than me.
We make our way to the gambling floor and I forget all about my bloated abdomen, which by the way has not yet absconded. I have never, and I mean never seen money on legs before tonight. I’m no expert in designer suits, dresses, shoes and the like, but from one look I can tell that I’m the only one on this floor wearing something worth less than a good month’s salary. The jewellery adorning some ladies’ necks and fingers could feed an African nation.
“This area is only entered by invitation. People come from all over the country, actually all over the world to be seen here. This is the place to meet the people who know the people or who are the people.”
“Who owns this place?”
“It is the great mystery of our area. There are rumours that it’s owned by an oil magnate, others say that it is owned by the government in an attempt to keep an eye on the big money rollers. My favourite theory is that it is owned by the Vatican in an attempt to raise more revenue from this godless part of the world.” I smile at this outrageous theory, which could be true, and continue to let my eyes wander from designer person to designer person.
We walk from table to table and it hurts to see how people are literally throwing money away. I’m by no means poor. My financial status is one of comfort. I’m able to pay all the bills, buy good cosmetics and have nice holidays. Not ever have I considered carrying a roll of money in a little designer purse, peel the bills off and throw it on a table to raise the bet like the very tanned woman at the table in front of us.
“Ray,” I whisper. “Do you see that woman? Look at the roll of money in his hand and at his very obviously fake tan. She should take that roll of cash and go on a Greek holiday for some real sun or buy a better self-tanning lotion. Carrot yellow doesn’t look good on anyone’s skin.”
“You got that right, doll.”
“Shocking,” I whisper again. I now have to concentrate not letting my mouth gape open. These people are amazing to watch, but I don’t think I ever want this kind of life. Ray breaks into my thoughts and speaks closely to my ear, so that no one else can hear him.
“The only good thing about this whole complex is the shows they have. I personally think that gambling is the beginning of the end. I’ve seen too many people lose everything. The stories that the girls tell me about the patrons here are enough to make me gray overnight.”
“Do you gamble?”
“Me? No Alex, I work hard for my money and don’t want to throw it away. I played the slot machines a few times, but my limit was reached after the third pull of the lever and then I stopped. I would rather play on the stock market and lose money there than pump it into someone’s back pocket – someone who’s already rolling in it.”
“True.” We move to another table and watch the players lose some more money. “Are they really this unconcerned about losing so much money or is it all just an act?” I ask in his ear. It seems like these people don’t care about their piles of chips getting smaller.
“Honey, they don’t care.”
I snort in disgust and drag Ray away from this table. We walk around a bit more and Ray tells me a few funny anecdotes he had heard from the dealers. The novelty of being in this money-fragrant room has worn off and my feet are now alerting me to the fact that they are encased in sexy torture chambers that is going to have me apologise to my feet for at least the next three days.
“Ready to sit down?” Seems like Ray reads minds too.
“Oh, yes please.”
We walk another mile to the other side of the building and enter a lounge with dim lighting. Ray is greeted like the returning prodigal son by a very short man and while the two men chat at the door, I look around. It’s a bit of a contrast to the rest of the complex in the sense that it’s very low key. There are low leather couches arranged around dark wooden coffee tables and tall standing lamps placed everywhere. The walls are painted a deep red and the dark wooden floor gives it an elegant and very affluent atmosphere without the showy decorations of the gambling floors. Ray and his friend have moved closer to the bar and I follow them, enjoying the time to look around and study the people inside the lounge.
“Possum!” I know the voice – it is Venus, but I can’t see her anywhere. I look around the lounge until my eyes fall on a group of men waving at me. At first I’m inclined to ignore the perverts until I realise that the attractive man dressed in black pants and a black polo shirt is calling me ‘Possum’. I lower my head, squint my eyes and start moving closer to their table, forgetting about Ray.
“No! It cannot be.” I’m looking at a group of chameleons. They look completely different from a few hours ago.
“It’s us darling, it’s us.”
“But...you look like men.”
“Um, it might be because we are men.”
“Not all of us, darling.” I notice that
Fiona is wearing a flattering pant suit and has discreet make up on that enhances her features.
“Sit down, Alex.” Venus scoots over and pats on the couch next to him. “I promise I won’t bite.” I sit down gingerly, thinking of my dress, bloated stomach and chameleons.
“Could you please explain this to me?” I’m truly perplexed.
“During the show, we are what we are. Some of us…” Venus looks at Fiona. “…are true ladies, but the rest of us are just performers.”
“What is your name?” I have a difficult time thinking of this sexy man next to me as Venus.
“Joel Gray, please to meet you.” He holds out his hand and gives me a very slow and seductive handshake. “Would you like something to drink?” He takes my order and leaves for the bar. Tonight I’m drinking only orange juice. I don’t trust myself tonight with alcohol – again I’m thinking of my dress, stomach and chameleons.
“Ah, I see you found them.” Ray appears with two glasses in his hands and sits next to me. I feel a bit done in, because he took Joel’s place, but on second thought realise it might be a good thing to keep that gorgeous specimen away from me. He hands me my juice that he took away from Joel at the bar and whispers in my ear, “Joel is notorious for breaking ladies’ hearts. I strongly recommend against any kind of anything with him.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I infuse as much sarcasm as possible into the ‘dad’ and roll my eyes in a perfect imitation of a rebellious teenager. “I wasn’t planning anything, and since when is it your job to look over my shoulder?”
“Are you warning Possum against me, Ray? What kind of friend are you?” Joel sits on the armrest next to me and is deliciously close.
“A friend that knows you and wants to protect damsels before they go into distress.” The whole groups bursts out laughing and lift their glasses to drink to the statement that even had Joel smiling. The next two and a half hours are filled with good natured banter and I flirt outrageously with Joel. This causes Ray to give me many razor sharp looks, but I’m having fun defying my self-appointed chaperone and Joel is fun to flirt with. The later it becomes, the more I realise that an affair with Joel would be guaranteed to end in total heartbreak or a very deep hatred of men. Since I’m not in the market for either, I enjoy the attention with nothing else in mind. Joel returns from his last trip to the bar with a non-alcoholic fruit cocktail and I lean back in the sofa, sipping happily at the fruit mix.
A commotion outside the lounge attracts my attention and I turn around to see what is happening, but I’m not prepared for the sight that greets my eyes. Immediately I swing my gaze back to the group, but they’re to busy discussing Fiona’s wardrobe to have noticed anything. I excuse myself pleading the use of the loo and make my way to the door. On the way to the doorway I’m shaking my head, hoping that my eyes deceived me. But it is not to be.
“Let me go, you overgrown gorilla!” The woman’s speech is slurred and she looks worse for wear. Her mascara is smudged under one eye, her hair is messed up and there’s a large run in her pantyhose. “I shaid, let me go.” She’s raising her voice and is now attracting more attention. The security guard dressed very snappily in a tux has a stronghold on her elbow and looks like he is about to pick her up and throw her physically out the door.
“Zondra, you have to leave. Don’t do this to yourself.” He doesn’t look like a very kind man, but at least he is keeping his voice low. And he knows her.
“What is happening here?” I ask him as he pulls her by the arm towards the door. I think I know, but would really like for him to tell me something else.
“Do you know this woman?” He thrusts his captive towards me and looks at me suspiciously.
“Yes, I do. Hello Zondra.”
“Oh, hello Mish Fields. How nice to shee you.” She sways violently and it’s only the hand of the security guard holding her up. She looks up at the man holding her and tries to focus on his face. “She’s from the big shitty and hash a magic wand. She’sh making our feshtival fabuloush.” She swings her head back at me and gives me a crooked smile. I smile sadly at Zondra and then look at the security man.
“Is there something I can do for her?”
“The best is to take her home and sober her up.” He looks at Zondra who’s trailing a long red nail down his muscular, tux-encased arm. “Make sure that she sobers up and makes a call to her counsellor.” He catches Zondra’s hand which started undoing his bow tie and holds it tight. “Be a good friend and make sure she makes that phone call.”
Oh dear. I can’t say that I really want to play the good Samaritan, but this is the first time that I see Zondra resembling a human being and I have this annoying twinge of compassion urging me to help. Sometimes it really sucks being a nice person. I’m a bit confused about the counsellor and phone call comments though, but decide to deal with that later.
“Just give me a moment to tell my friends I’m leaving.” I look at the woman in front of me who can barely stay up straight. “Zondra, do you have your car here?”
“Yesh honey, I do.” She giggles at a private joke while I leave them and make my way back into the lounge. The men have made an extreme change of topic and are now discussing cars and the virtues of having a cabriolet.
“Where have you been, Possum?” Joel’s lecherous gleam in his eyes and his seductive tone no longer holds any amusement, not after the scene I just witnessed. I smile lamely at the group.
“I’m not feeling too well. I think I am going to go home.” A collective “oh no!” raises from the group and it takes me a full five minutes to convince them that I don’t need a doctor, an emergency room, tampons or period pain tablets. I tell them that I met a friend outside who will take me home. I ignore Ray’s confused look and promise to tell him everything tomorrow at work. There’s a lot of air-kissing and promises to come again before I grab my littlest handbag and make my way to the door.
Zondra has developed the octopus disorder and has her hands all over the security guy. There’s a particular funny moment when Zondra loses her footing, he catches her and her hand lands on his unmentionables. I make as if I don’t see anything and take Zondra’s other arm. He helps me to get her to the car and once there, it takes some coaxing to get her into the passenger seat of her luxury sedan.
“Thank you so much for your kindness.” I say to the man who proved to be much gentler than he looks.
“No problem, ma’am. Just make sure she makes that call.” He gives Zondra one last look and walks back to the entrance. I get in the car and shake my head at the sight and smell that greets me.
“Oh Zondra, what have you gotten yourself into?
Chapter 16
“Where were you last night?” I’m greeted at the door by a man who looks decidedly grouchy. I didn’t even have time to put my key into the lock when the door burst open and a growling and wonderfully smelling Adam filled the door frame glaring at me as if I’m an insurance sales rep.
“Out.” I push past him and sigh when I hear Blossom come around the corner before I see him. “Hello baby.” He skids to a stop in front of me and is so overwhelmed with joy at my return that he starts hyperventilating. “Calm down, Blossom. I’m here now.” I rub his ears until he calms down and I make my way to the kitchen. The only thing on my mind now is coffee and I don’t care that Adam is following me sounding like Papa bear upon discovery of his missing porridge.
I pour myself a paradisiacal cup of coffee from the pot which mercifully still had a cup left in it and lower myself tiredly into a chair. Only after two long sips am I ready to look up and cope with the piercing look and cold silence leaning against the kitchen counter with folded arms. I sigh, send up a little prayer hoping the gods will intervene.
“I was at Heaven with Ray.”
“And after that?”
“I went to a friend.”
“What friend?”
“A friend.” Oh, how am I going to get through this with only one hour of sleep and without sufficient caf
feine in my system.
“Alex, where were you?” He moves away from the counter and takes his usual position of towering over me when he feels the need to intimidate me into telling him something he wants to know.
“Adam, I don’t like your tone. It’s just too early for me to fight with you.” I look at him pleadingly. “Please don’t be like this.”
“Be like what?! Ray phoned me to find out if you got home safely and that’s when we realised that neither of us knew who you left with, where you were and that you could be lying in a gutter somewhere dead.”
I’m speechless. I’ve never seen Adam this livid. His face is red, and his voice is shaking. None of our other disagreements have had this effect on him.
“Are you going to ground me for two weeks?”
“Oh, don’t tempt me,” he spits out. “Do you have any idea how this affected Ray. He phoned me every thirty minutes to find out if you had come home. And this dog of yours also chose last night to have an even more upset stomach than usual. I had no sleep!”
“Me, me, me, me.” I stand up and face him. “Well Mr Montgomery, you’re not the only who didn’t get sleep. I helped someone who was in a very difficult situation, and …” I stop myself before I reveal too much. “And then I come home to this!”
We are almost nose to nose, shouting at each other. I’ve never done this with anyone and it’s actually quite a lot of fun – even if he was being so aggravating.
“You should’ve phoned!”