“It pays better. How’s it going at the gym?”
He winced. “Hard, but I’ll live.”
We stood watching a situation that might have turned nasty, each with the same balls-of-the-feet readiness, until it blew over, then continued where we’d left off.
“Thank your dad for the pass. He isn’t in, or I’d have told him myself.”
Brian squinted at the locked door and darkened glass a little way along the balcony. “We’ve been having a bit of bother with the brewery. He was hoping to be back before we opened, what with the memorial and everything, but looks like he’s still negotiating.”
“So you did the honours? Opening up, I mean.”
He nodded. “Dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it.” Looking around him he added, “Since you’re here as a guest, we should get you a decent table. The Chief Super isn’t here yet. You’ve got a Platinum Card. You get first dibs on the best seats.”
“I sense a wind-up going on. I take it you’re not a fan of the Scottish git?”
“Let’s just say he’s given me a few uncomfortable moments.”
“OK. I’ve already been beaten up. What’s a little police brutality among friends?”
“Ah, that’s the beauty of it. He can’t touch you in a public place. I saw the grief he gave you at the reception. I thought you’d appreciate getting back at him, in a small way.”
“Especially since you can’t?”
He just looked at me. I think we understood one another.
“Lead on.”
I know it was childish, and would probably mean our problems with the local law enforcement would escalate, but this was one of those offers you can’t refuse. Besides, if Tori and I were breaking up, how could I resist the opportunity to watch her set the stage alight a final time from the best seat in the house?
I followed the boss’s son down to the mezzanine and let him install me at the centre table, exchanging the Reserved sign for one that said Private Party. He left me with a scantily-clad waitress to take my drinks order. Knowing prices were high, I presumed upon my association with the ladies and asked her to get me a bottle of mineral water hidden in an ice bucket. Coupled with a tinted glass, no one would know what I was drinking.
The girls trickled by to visit me. Some chatted, others flirted. I handed out as much money as I could afford and as they would accept, before I caught sight of Sammi.
She didn’t seem to be having much luck tonight. She noticed me as the rush cleared and stared to see me sitting at the reserved table. I beckoned her over.
“We have come up in the world!”
“Payment for services rendered.” I showed her the pass. “Would you join me?”
“Don’t do me any favours!”
“You’d be doing me one. Tori won’t think I’m trying to sleep with you.”
One of the girls began a number on stage and a few of the audience sitting behind us began heckling, because Sammi was in their way. I stood up and drew a chair from the table for her, giving the shouters the finger. Smiling, Sammi allowed me seat her before I returned to my own chair. We sat in silence, watching the slow bump and grind to its conclusion, before I snagged a passing waitress and asked for a fresh glass.
“Last of the big spenders.”
I blushed. “I thought since you were working…”
“What’s your excuse?”
“I don’t drink.”
“Ever?” The spin she put on it let me know she’d guessed the truth. I inclined my head.
“Even big bad bodyguards have deep dark secrets!”
My flaw pleased her. She sipped, drawing rings in the condensation on the table top with a long nail. “I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome.”
“Why? What you are doesn’t mean I can’t be sociable.”
“You know, if you closed your eyes and breathed shallowly, you’d never know the difference…” She slid her hand up my thigh beneath the table.
She did it just right, but… Nothing fired in my brain. I clamped a hand about her wrist, probably with more force than was really necessary, and removed her exploratory fingers. “Believe me, I’d know.”
“Spoil sport.” She pouted, rubbing the mark on her wrist where I’d grabbed her, and retreated behind her drink. No doubt thinking up a new gambit.
After a while she started stroking the curve of her ample breast through the thin strip of material that almost covered it. I couldn’t take my eyes off her hand. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t wonder. She smiled, catching my embarrassed eyes.
“You can look but you can’t touch?”
“Something like that.”
“I’ll just have to be content imagining how it would feel to have your fingers inside me. I’m very tight…”
“Please!”
She chuckled.
“I couldn’t resist. If you could only see your face!” One of her large hands covered mine, and the look she slanted at me was all devilment. “You do use your hands, don’t you?”
I snatched my hand away feeling the blush creep up my collar. A familiar figure in regulation tux sauntered past, giving me the excuse I needed to change the subject.
“Do you have any problems with him?”
“Grey? He’s an odd bird. Asked me out when I was transitioning, before I started at the Paradise. I turned him down. I don’t date men. I can’t say he was happy about it. When I came to work here he raised the subject again, but he stopped after he caught me with my tongue down Liu’s throat. I suppose he finally got the picture.”
“Was that before or after your rape?”
Sammi blinked then her face paled. “My God. You think..?”
“He was the knife thrower. It occurred to me that I might not have been his intended target. I don’t have any evidence – yet – but I thought you should know.”
“Fuck! You won’t find evidence. He’s tight with the Chief Superintendent.”
My response was drowned out by the music as another act came on.
It was Tori. She caught sight of me at once. She likes to pick out one of the audience, to direct her routine at them. I’ve noticed some dancers stare into the middle distance when they’re on stage, but Tori is very present. When she looks at you, you know it’s you she’s seeing, not some fantasy partner. That’s reflected in her takings. As thirty per cent goes back to the club, the Bird of Paradise was going to be worse off for her going as well as me.
A truly blistering routine that had me dripping with anticipation was the result. It wasn’t until the music faded, the applause shuddering the floor, that I came to myself and remembered we weren’t alone. A lump in my throat prevented me from speaking when Sammi enviously asked me if Tori was that good in bed. All I could do was nod helplessly.
“No wonder you never have eyes for anyone else. Do you really think she’ll go?”
I found my voice. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
I focused properly upon her. She looked sincere. “Thanks.”
“Will you still come here? Afterwards.”
“I don’t know. Listen, about Grey, I…”
“No, I need to think about this. Thank you for finding out. For telling me. You’re the only one who’s ever bothered to try. I promise I won’t go off and do anything daft. If I can think of a way to get him, would you be up for helping me?”
I nodded.
“Thanks.”
Tori, clothed in the minimal fashion usual here, flushed with the success of her dance and maybe even lust, was making her way across the floor towards me. I stood as she approached. It seemed like the right thing to do. Sammi rose as well.
“I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. Thanks for the drink.”
“Any time.”
She gave Tori’s arm a sisterly squeeze. My lover spared a moment to smile at her before she was in my arms and wrapping herself around me. Wolf-whistles and complaints rang in my ears when we finally broke from the passionate clinch and she allowed me to seat he
r at the table. Just in time to piss off the newly arrived Chief Super. I paused to look at him long enough to drive home my point, before ignoring him completely, focusing all my attention on Tori. I was peripherally aware of him having a brief altercation with a member of staff about the seating arrangements, before he retreated sulkily to a less well appointed table to glower at my back. The flames of revenge warmed me. Sad, but true.
“Thank you for coming, Randall. Are you sure you should be doing this?”
“How could I not?”
She looked pointedly at the ice bucket and its hidden contents. I handed her my glass. She accepted it, sniffed, then sipped.
“Perrier?”
“Highland Spring. It seemed appropriate.” I indicated the disgruntled Chief Super.
“Is this wise?”
“Probably not. I’ve learned you have to take risks in life to get what you want.”
“And what is it that you want?”
She leaned across the table, her hands doing just what Sammi had done earlier. Funny the difference pheromones make. I was still trying to think of an excuse to haul her off to the bathroom and show her exactly what I wanted, when she stopped.
“Later,” she promised. I tried to get my brain back in gear.
“I came to watch you because I may not get another chance. To drive you home so you’ll be safe, tell Sammi I think we know who her rapist is and to show those who need to know that I’ve not been beaten by my beating.”
“Four birds with one stone?”
“Yes. Do you mind?”
“Of course not. I like having you here. I know how you feel about your reputation, and being driven home means no worries about being followed by a psycho with a grudge.” She paused. “Wait a minute – you figured out who..?”
She grabbed my hand and dragged me to one of the Star rooms. Someone was just coming out as we arrived. She pushed me inside and locked the door.
“Tell me!”
I explained what we had learned.
“Dear God, all this time. You really think it’s him?”
“Sammi does. That’s more important. That isn’t all. You remember the dinner party?”
“How could I forget? But what does that have to do with..?” It dawned, exactly as it must have on Dean. “Lou Lou.”
I caught her before her legs gave out and sat her in the chair usually reserved for the clients. When I tried to let her go she clung to me.
“Stay with me,” she insisted. I had to hoist her again and sit in the chair myself with her on my lap before she was satisfied.
“How..?” She interrupted herself with a shiver. “Never mind. At least I can see why. Are you sure?”
“We’re looking into it. We need evidence before we go to the police. Assuming that’s what you want?”
“I’m not sure, Randall. What are the chances we’d get a conviction?”
“Slim,” I said, honestly. There would be juries who’d consider what goes on here provocation and wouldn’t consider what she did rape. Even with the 1992 changes to the law to recognise spousal rape, the definition of rape hasn’t changed much since 1956. According to that you have to be a man to rape someone. “You could bring an assault charge. She abducted and attacked you, whatever provocation she thinks she had.”
“And proving it?”
“Will be next to impossible. You didn’t report it and neither the police nor a qualified medical practitioner examined you.”
“So whether she did it or not, she’s still going to get away with it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
She looked at me long and hard.
“You can’t be contemplating an eye for an eye. I know you, Randall McGonnigal. You could no more rape that woman than I could.”
Then she had another thought. “You’re not carrying your gun?”
“We’ve been through that.”
She looked relieved.
“Then what?”
“First we make sure we’ve got the right woman. Confront her with what we know! She was Dean’s friend. Maybe he has some idea about hitting her where it hurts? I don’t know. Yet. But I promise that I won’t shoot her. Even if I did know, I’m not sure I should talk about it.”
She stared.
“You can’t just tell me who did it then leave me in suspense!”
“Tori, it’s not your problem any more. You’re leaving the day after tomorrow. You’ll be out of it. It’ll be better that way. If the legality of what I do becomes questionable, you can’t be blamed. You won’t know anything.”
She sprang off my lap, bristling.
“How dare you take that highhanded attitude with me! Who was it that got raped? Don’t I deserve some say in what happens to the person that attacked me?”
“You’re not objective enough.”
“Damn straight I’m not! Are you?”
“More than you are. I’ve had time to think about this. To find some distance. And as you quite rightly point out, it didn’t happen to me.”
“It’s just another job to you!”
“It will never be that. But it is what I do. And if we don’t try and stay within the law we become no better than vigilantes.”
She looked at me. Somebody hammered on the door. I stood. “She will pay, I’ll see to that.”
Tori turned her back on me. I tried to hold her, but she walked stiff legged with anger around me to the door. I followed her, put a hand on her arm. “Tori?”
She ignored me and unlocked the door. Brian Junior stood impatiently on the threshold with one of the girls and a client. Tori pushed past them.
“I thought you said customers couldn’t touch?” the client muttered. I didn’t quite catch Brian’s explanation as I followed her out, but I knew it would be something pithy.
“Tori!” I had to shout to make myself heard over the volume of the music.
“Go home, Randall. I need to think about this. I’ll take a cab, a White Knight, or something. I want to be alone.” Then she was gone.
Shit! Sometimes nothing goes right. She left in two days. I’d blown one of our last nights together by doing nothing more than telling her the truth. To top it all, the Scottish git was sitting at my table when I got back. I knew when to quit. I left.
I wasn’t fit to drive. A walk to clear my head? I hung a left and started for the sea.
Dean swears by the sea as the cure to all his problems. If pressed, he’d say, as a water sign, he’s being true to his nature. I don’t believe in astrology, but there’s something soothing about watching the repetitive motion of the tide and the shushing of surf.
Five minutes and three main roads later I was on the promenade. It was quiet and dark at this time of the morning. I strolled until I found a spot I liked, then let the North Sea work its magic. It was icily perfect beneath the moon and the streetlights. The Illuminations had been turned off. Tourists gone to their beds. I stood near the bandstand – filled with skateboarders by day – and breathed deeply, letting the tension flow out of me along the path of moonlight.
Someone, gender not immediately apparent, shuffled up beside me and tried to bum a cigarette. When I admitted I didn’t smoke, they asked for the money for a cup of tea. From the smell that was a euphemism for a cheap bottle of booze. I refused. They swore loudly as they shuffled away.
The moment was broken. I started back, not having resolved anything, except that the world had more losers in it than me.
The rain started again. I flipped up the collar of my jacket against the icy drops trying to slither down my neck and trudged to the parking lot.
We like to think we’re in control of events; the reverse is true. Look at tonight. I’d thought Tori would be happy to see an end in sight, let me handle her problem, achieve closure and move on. It didn’t look as if that was going to happen. Dean and I thought we had the situation under control; we’d get the evidence we needed, tidy up the situation to everyone’s satisfaction and get on with our lives. We were
probably wrong about that too.
I’d been staring at the moon-drenched water longer than I’d thought. The cleaners were leaving the club when I drew opposite. A couple of the girls were standing in the lot, sheltering under a golf umbrella waiting for their rides home, Tori among them. Brian Senior was locking the doors.
While I was vacillating about going over, two taxis arrived from the top of the road. A waste disposal truck clanked from the bottom road between us. By the time the traffic had cleared, Brian and his car were gone. So were the girls. Almost. A leg kicked out of the alleyway alongside the club, then disappeared as if dragged.
I know what you’re thinking. I wasn’t in one piece, and it wasn’t my problem. You should know me better. I was born to play good Samaritan.
I darted across the road. The rain made me skid the remaining distance into the alleyway. Luckily I kept my feet.
The single street lamp, coupled with the rain, illuminated the struggling women. I hardly had time to take in more than a glimpse of auburn hair and the flash of a knife, before I piled into the fight. Instinct made me protect the woman I loved. Training made me seek to disarm the knife wielder. It wasn’t until the blade slashed my hand I realised they were one and the same.
Tori gasped, dropped the knife and took my bloody hand between both of hers.
“God, Randall, I’m sorry!”
“What were you doing?”
“I’ve been carrying the knife with me since the rape. Whenever you weren’t there. In case she… I never meant…”
She looked down at my bloody hand, then let go, turned aside and threw up. I wanted to go to her, but there was her attacker to deal with.
I turned to the other woman.
Sharon had a cricket bat in her hands. (The one she’d attacked her husband with?) She must have left it nearby to drag Tori into the alley, not realising things wouldn’t be so easy this time, not knowing Tori had a knife. My distraction had allowed her to arm herself again. She raised it. She looked more scared than angry.
“Go ahead, hit me,” I told her. “If it makes you feel better.”
Tori made a strangled noise then lunged. With my uninjured hand I held her back.
“Go ahead,” I said again, making a sweeping gesture with my slashed hand. Blood splattered on to the tarmac. Sharon couldn’t take her eyes off it. “Violence won’t bring your husband back. It won’t make him be what he’s not.”
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