Lewis sat with Pepper, Blue and Rex to his right, and Vince, Johnny T and Dianne Castrelli from Las Vegas to his left. The tension was palpable as the lights dimmed. This motley crew were not easily impressed.
‘I got Tiger into the osprey fantail and the new corset,’ hissed Blue. ‘You wouldn’t believe what strings I had to pull to get them finished for this meeting … ’scuse the pun.’
Lewis grunted absentmindedly. He couldn’t give a crap about the costume – after all, Tiger could make a coffee sack look good. He just wanted her on form, and he had just received a weird text message from her to say she really needed to ‘kick some ass’. That’s all it had said. Lewis had seen Rex sniffing around Tiger’s dressing room earlier, and knowing that Rex had the diplomatic skills of a gorilla with a hard on, Lewis dreaded to think what he might have been saying … or doing to her by way of encouragement back there. He’d hoped that whatever had been going on between Tiger and Rex had fizzled out but now he felt the tic start in his cheek as his paranoia started to get the better of him.
Lights flooded the stage, and the opening bars of ‘Carmina Burana’ blasted through the room as the magnificent ten-foot glitterball rose, spinning above everyone’s heads. It was certainly a rousing start. So far so good, thought Lewis, as he nudged Di Castrelli.
‘If you just imagine the pit as the pool,’ he shouted over the fanfare, ‘the fountains would be pushing up the mirrorball at this point.’
Dianne nodded and jotted notes in her pad.
There was a collective gasp as a door swung back from the glitterball to reveal Tiger perched upon a bird swing like an albino bird of paradise, set against red padded interior upholstery in the style of the Russian Czar’s Renaissance Fabergé egg. The sparkle from the diamonds on her corset was blinding. She looked like a jewel in a crown.
‘Holy Cajone!’ cheered the normally poker-faced Vince and Johnny T in unison. Dianne Castrelli continued to scribble furiously in her notepad.
Ten of the Starrlets were lowered to the stage on rope swings, each wearing their sparkling mirrored crinolines as Tiger nimbly swung down from her glitterball, using a huge suspended velveteen tassel. Her long silk ruffled train undulated wildly behind her as she rotated. Tiger looked like a gazelle mid pounce as she flew through the air; pure elegance in motion. ‘Carmina Burana’ reached its in famous crescendo as Tiger was finally lowered to the floor in an arabesque. Lewis detected a steely expression on her face, tense and fiery.
Lewis leaned in to Di Castrelli, shouting in her ear: ‘She’d be on the central plinth in the pool at this point with the fountains in synchronised jets.’ The three Americans leaned in together to confer. Lewis looked to his right. Blue had his nails in his mouth, Pepper was tapping her dainty foot as she scrutinised Georgia and the Starrlets, and Rex looked on mesmerised. Lewis eyeballed Rex suspiciously, deciding he had a distinctly lecherous air today. Rex smiled over at Lewis and stuck his thumbs up. Tosser, thought Lewis resentfully as he curled his lip and looked away to concentrate on the stage.
The music segued into a dramatic, filmic John Barry number as Tiger lifted her enormous circular fantail like a peacock, and paraded majestically with the girls, as they broke into leggy kicks behind her. She had a predatory air as she stalked regally across the stage, shimmering with every movement. Lewis knew she was wound up, with a forceful tension in her limbs that he recognised from her early days on stage. Lewis glared back over at Rex, narrowing his eyes as he watched him licking his lips at the Starrlets. His hackles went up. He had trusted Rex as a solid part of the work team for all these years; that is until he overheard Tiger enthusing about the shape of his penis with Blue in one of the intervals at the Savoy show. Lewis had been appalled to think of Rex’s great hairy paws on his elegant Tiger; what on earth was she thinking? Lewis couldn’t watch her on stage that night without seeing her differently somehow. She was too good for Rex, she must have lost her head. Tiger was too much woman for someone like him to handle and Lewis wasn’t surprised to see Rex move on to her sister like some sleazy Lothario. Now, Lewis was damned if he was going to let Rex anywhere near any of the young Starrlets, and certainly not his girlfriend Georgia. Lewis kept his eyes on the stage, realising he had been clicking and unclicking his pen angrily, much to everyone’s irritation.
Deftly, Tiger unclipped the huge osprey fantail from her corset to use it as a feather fan. Only this was no gentle wing flapping. Tiger used it as a fighting fan. Slicing the air, she span it in extreme circles over her head like a Japanese warrior as she thundered towards her audience. She then unclipped her matching osprey headdress and used it in tandem. With fire in her eyes she slashed powerfully through the air in synchronised circles. It was a spectacular display. The energy was untamed. The Starrlets could be seen glancing sideways at each other on stage. Pepper looked confused.
‘She’s moved away from the choreography!’ Pepper complained into Lewis’ ear. ‘She’s moving into the girls’ space! Absolutely apalling discipline!’
Lewis turned to look at Rex with an accusatory glare.
‘What the hell did you do to her in the dressing room? She’s all over the place!’ Lewis hissed over at Rex.
‘Nothing, mate, what’s the problem? She’s doing great! This is fucking electric!’
Lewis settled back in his chair, unable to face Rex. Lewis knew he was right. It really was electric to watch, that old Tiger fire; that heat that turned Lewis on to her in the first place. Her glamorous shows had polished some of that rawness away over time. He’d never seen her so worked up in the last ten years. So this was what she meant by ‘kicking some ass’.
Tiger was down to her pasties and diamond g-string as she moved through her blanket dance, writhing and slinking amongst her bed of ruffles like a cat on heat. It was pure animal sexuality. The costume looked breathtaking as it moulded with her curves. Tiger looked at ease as she used her trusty old flamenco tricks to manipulate the enormous train of ruffles, with her army of Starrlets behind her, now swinging like exquisite twinkling pin-up dolls on their own suspended perches. As the music increased in pace, Tiger leapt with each cymbal crash, and purred with each saxophone slide. The muscles in her thighs glistened as she worked up a glow. With a final dramatic jump she gripped onto the velvet tassel hanging from the glitterball above her and wrapped it about her waist with a flourish. On cue the huge prop rose, spinning wildly in a glorious spectrum of sparkles.
‘What on earth is she playing at?’ murmured Lewis as he realised Tiger had adopted the pose of Jesus on the cross with outstretched arms as she ascended towards the flies, rotating with the glitterball, and shaking her hair as it tumbled down her back, with her diamond-encrusted pasties and merkin glittering blindingly under the lights.
‘That’s just madness. Controversy for the sake of it. Jesus was definitely not in the choreography. Fucking disaster,’ Lewis muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. ‘Rex, I want a word with you later,’ he muttered. ‘This wasn’t supposed to be the friggin’ resurrection. I think Tiger just screwed up. A hunch tells me you had something to do with it. They’re gonna cut this number entirely after seeing it like this. Do you know how much that blasted prop cost?’
‘Mate, that was genius, what’s the problem?’ replied Rex, smirking. Lewis looked over at Blue, who was staring with his mouth agape. Pepper had her hand held over her mouth. Lewis’ heart sank. He held on to his seat as the Starrlets finished their crescendo with the music reaching its rousing finale as Tiger disappeared from view into the flies in a final flash of blinding lights.
The silent pause was long and pregnant. Dianne Castrelli, Vince and Johnny T huddled together.
‘Okay, Mr Bond,’ opened Dianne with her usual stern expression.
Here it comes, thought Lewis, bracing himself.
‘I can see your vision.’
Cut to the chase, thought Lewis, I can take it.
‘I think we can make the water feature work.’
/> Okay, now give me the ‘but’, thought Lewis, let’s get it over with.
‘In fact I think it will be quite stunning.’
Okay, now she’s going for the bad news. Come on, baby, don’t be a coward.
‘I have to say, this is pretty spectacular stuff, Lewis. It’s still camp, but it’s original, set against the more traditional showgirl pieces. In fact, I’d use the word “artful”.’
Huh? thought Lewis.
‘Yes, it’s very artful, it reminds me of a painting. Umm … I’m trying to think of the name …’
‘Renaissance?’ chipped in Blue hopefully, casting his mind back to his afternoon with Valerie.
‘Yes … the painting eludes me.’ Dianne smiled. ‘Never mind, I’ll remember it later. Now, if we can rethink the religious references at the end, I think we’re really on to a winner.’
Lewis kept his face straight and nodded thoughtfully,
‘That was quite an incredible performance you know,’ said Di, lowering her voice and looking around at the rapidly nodding Vince and Johnny T. ‘Now I heard some rumour flying around that Tiger wanted diving Siberian tigers?’
Lewis clenched his teeth, wondering how on earth Tiger had managed to get her ridiculous request past him and direct to Dianne.
‘Really?’ Lewis coughed, smiling politely. ‘No, no, no, I think that must have been hearsay—’
‘Oh, but it’s a fabulous idea, Mr Bond. Let’s discuss it. We’ll need to check out the insurance implications but I think tigers shouldn’t be a problem. Ahh, Bosch! That’s who I was thinking of – that finale will look like a modern day Garden of Earthly Delights, with Tiger as Eve, rising to the skies surrounded by naked beauties, majestic animals, rising to the great disco ball in the sky. Isn’t that poetic?’
‘Ooh, all we’d need then is for Liberace to parachute in through the ceiling,’ muttered Blue with a sigh.
‘I might just ask my people to check out availability for white Bengal tigers instead,’ continued Dianne, looking eager. ‘Siberian tigers are so passé. Do you think Ms Starr would prefer white tigers?’
Tiger emerged in the wings after her presentation, realising with a sinking feeling in the afterglow that she had taken her baggage right out onto the stage and waved it about in the spotlight for all to see.
‘Jeez, what happened back there with the fans?’ asked Nikki as Tiger caught up with the chorus line, who were patiently waiting for her.
‘Whaddyamean?’ asked Tiger.
‘I mean, well, wow I’ve not seen you use them like that before! You were a warrior!’ breathed Nikki admiringly.
‘Cor, yeah I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of you!’ laughed Frankie.
‘Hmm. Come on, girls, lets just take our bows, eh,’ sighed Tiger, preparing for a deafening silence.
As she demurely walked out in front of the stage her audience cheered, whooped and clapped. As Tiger bowed, allowing a smile to creep across her face, she could see Pepper jumping up and down, Rex leaning back and whistling loudly, even Lewis clapping loudly and cheering. Tiger caught Di Castrelli’s eye; she proffered a big wink, accompanied by a knowing nod and a beaming smile. Tiger breathed an enormous sigh of relief and allowed the sound of clapping and cheers to ring loudly in her ears as she bowed once more.
Chapter 14
Cheers and screams surged through the air as Poppy raced round the pitch with lungs burning, arms outstretched, hockey stick held high in the air, and the wind blowing sweaty ringlets of hair away from her flushed, elated face. Hundreds of pairs of feet stamped on the metal boards of the tiered seating either side of the pitch as hands clapped frantically along with the cheering. A few low boos rang out from the losing team. All of a sudden Poppy was swept up into the air as several pairs of hands jerkily hoisted her above their heads to celebrate the winning goal in the last ten seconds of the match.
‘Put me down!’ squealed Poppy, laughing her head off. This just made her team mates spin her round even faster. Poppy looked anxiously around from her vantage point for Mr Rogers, hoping he had watched her scoring that crucial goal. She caught him out of the corner of her eye at the sidelines, standing tall with legs apart, arms crossed, nodding and beaming, his thick blond hair tousled in the breeze. Their eyes locked for a second. Yesssss, thought Poppy, he would be so pleased with her! She knew this would make up for the shame of the catfight last week; she knew she could prove she was a good girl at heart.
Back in the locker room after an extremely rowdy bus ride back to school the last remaining girls were stuffing their damp gym skirts and muddy hockey boots into their kitbags. The air was thick with Impulse body spray and ‘Red Door’ eau de toilette.
Poppy felt a hand on her backside and jumped round with a start.
‘Emma! You made me jump!’
‘Ha! Why, who did you think it was?’
‘Well not you for a start, you’ve been a bitch all week.’
‘Yeah I know, actually Marina had a bit of a go at me tonight before the match. She told me I had to say sorry to you. She said she thinks I’ve been mean. We are supposed to be on the same team after all right?’
‘I’m not just talking about hockey.’
‘I know, I know. Look, can we forget all that stuff from before? You know you nailed ’em good and proper tonight, Pops!’
‘You know I hate “Pops”.’
‘Whatever, that tackle was fierce! You shoulda seen that cow’s face when you got the ball, she started hopping to make it look like you’d got her in the shins, it was classic!’
‘So I take it we’re mates again.’
‘Yeah, only ’cos you put us all in Mr Rogers’ good books though. Even if you do keep shaking your boobs at him. God he’s so gorgeous when he’s smiling.’
Poppy blushed and smiled to herself as she reached in her bag and felt the green sweater she’d had in her kit bag all week. It had obviously been a lucky charm for tonight. She decided maybe she wouldn’t give it back straight away.
‘Listen, I’m off, Mum’s waiting outside,’ said Emma. ‘You need a lift? Your mum does night school on Wednesdays, doesn’t she?’
‘Yeah, but it’s okay, I could do with the walk home, I’m still buzzing. It’s a nice enough evening, the sunset’ll keep me company.’
‘Okay, if you’re sure.’ Emma gave her a look as if she was mad. ‘See you tomorrow. Triple maths – can’t wait.’ And with that Emma skipped off out of the locker room, kitbag and satchel slung over her shoulder.
Poppy pulled on her own blazer hurriedly as she realised she was the last one to leave as usual. She flicked the light switch of the locker room before pulling the door shut behind her. Making her way out of the sports block she paused to tie up her shoelace. A hand grabbed her shoulder as she knelt down. Poppy sprung up, alarmed, and as she span round came face to face with Ed Rogers.
‘Well done, Poppy, you were really fantastic tonight,’ said Ed.
‘Oh, thanks, it was – it was so much fun.’ Poppy blushed, suddenly wishing she’d put some mascara back on after her shower.
‘Tell you what, why don’t you come to my cabin for a minute? I could show you the designs for our new team strip.’
‘Oh, well – sure, I’ve got a few minutes.’ Poppy’s heart raced. Five minutes with Mr Rogers! Wait until she told Emma, Claire and Marina! Thank goodness Mother wasn’t waiting for her at the gates tonight, there was a god after all, she thought excitedly.
Ed’s cabin was cramped, with team photographs, trophies and medals on all the walls. Any spare wall space was filled with scribbled match schedules and typed class timetables. Poppy perched nervously on a stool and looked around. In the corner stood a grey locker out of which was spilling what looked to be Mr Rogers’ own kit, underneath piles of school sweatshirts. She figured the new team strip samples must be in there too.
‘So, Miss Adams. You’ve been a very good girl today. Would you like to be the first to try on the new sweatshirts?’
‘Cool!’ said Poppy, wondering where she should change.
‘Well, why don’t you just slip out of your blouse. I won’t look.’
Ed turned to the locker and rummaged amongst the piles of kit. He hummed happily. Poppy took her blazer off, and went to undo her top button. She hesitated. The girls would think she was a slapper if she told them she had taken her blouse off in front of a man, whether he was looking or not. She thought better of it.
‘Mr Rogers, shall I go to the girls’ changing room?’ Ed turned to her and stared at her quizzically.
‘Why do you need to do that, Poppy? You’re safe with me. Don’t you trust me?’
‘Oh yes, Mr Rogers, yes of course. It’s just that, well—’
‘You’re okay with us being here together, aren’t you?’
‘Of course, yes.’
‘I don’t invite just anyone into my cabin you know.’
‘Oh thank you! I mean, well, great, I’d love to try on the new stuff if that’s cool with you.’
‘Yes, it’s fine with me, Poppy. Well then. Let me help you.’
As Ed fumbled with Poppy’s top button, his breathing became heavy. His face hardened in concentration. Poppy’s excitement turned to alarm. What was he doing? He wasn’t smiling any more. Had she upset him? Maybe she’d offended him. The last thing she wanted was to disappoint him.
‘It’s okay, Mr Rogers, let me undo—’ Poppy didn’t have a chance to finish, as Ed ripped her shirt open, exposing her ample bosom spilling from her cheap peach satin bra. Poppy gasped, and fearfully held her arms up to hide her breasts. Ed locked his arm about her waist and reached for the wall with his other hand to turn off the cabin light as he firmly yanked her body up against his.
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