Martinis and Memories

by A. L. Michael

  Taya snuck in, crunching on slices of apple. She was only a few years younger than me, but she seemed so energetic, so happy to be wherever she was. I often wished for just a tenth of Taya’s energy.

  ‘Hello, hello! Ready for a wonderful evening of art and debauchery?’ She perched on the edge of my desk and offered the apple slices, held in a pink unicorn container. I took one, and crunched alongside her.

  ‘Always, darling. Everything okay?’

  ‘Mark’s been going on about getting married again.’ Taya rolled her eyes. ‘Like, seriously? Why?’

  I shrugged. ‘I am not the person to ask, I’m afraid. I can tell you you’d look fabulous in an expensive dress?’

  Taya laughed. ‘I’d look fabulous in a bin bag and that man of mine knows that too. Anyway, I came up with a new number, was hoping you’d let me perform it tonight?’

  ‘Tonight? Are you sure you don’t want a little more time? What is it?’

  Taya grinned at me, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder. ‘A little soulful, a little like walking in a dream.’

  ‘It’s not The Little Mermaid theme song again, is it, darling, because I’ve told you—’

  ‘Doesn’t fit with the aesthetic, no matter how much my nieces love it. I gotcha. I think you’ll like it. A little tougher than my usual, but that’s what makes a spectacular, right?’

  That was what I loved about Taya, her ability to keep pushing when something was hard.

  ‘Are you sure it’s ready?’

  Taya raised an eyebrow and gave me a stern look. ‘You think I’d give you less than perfection?’

  I smiled, shaking my head. ‘I wouldn’t dare. Go forth, dazzle the bastards.’ I checked my watch. ‘Have you seen Aria? She’s late.’

  ‘I saw her outside, with her boyfriend, finishing up an argument.’ Taya shrugged.

  ‘They were arguing?’

  She pressed her lips together. ‘Not in that obvious way, but in that way private people do when they don’t want anyone overhearing. She kept looking around her and hissing her words. She was obviously embarrassed.’

  ‘Right, thanks, darling. Looking forward to seeing your new masterpiece tonight.’

  I smoothed out my forehead as Taya left. Some days I could feel the wrinkles forming, the frown lines at the corners, folding into my skin. I looked to the video system in the office, and sure enough, I could see Aria in front of a man outside the entrance to the club. He was a big guy, I could see that much, but it was the body language that concerned me more than anything.

  I’ve spent my life watching people. When I was dancing, it was about looking for the curve of an arm, the tilt of a hip, the smallest movements to create a perfect copy. Then in the chippy, and the bars, it was easy to see who would kick off, who would argue and yell and get mad. People hold a tension within them, like at any moment a string might snap. Aria’s boyfriend looked like a taut cord.

  I left the office, strode through the double doors, out to the front, and jutted my hip, arms crossed. I waited for them to look at me, and they did.

  He wasn’t that huge from this level, he just seemed it next to Aria’s small frame. He was solid though, and he towered over her, in her space as he spoke quietly, his lips a thin line.

  ‘Aria, you’re fifteen minutes late. We have a meeting.’ My voice was sharp and clear.

  ‘Yeah, we’re just having an important conversation here, sweetheart, she’ll be in in a minute.’ He waved me off and turned back to her. Aria hissed at him, looking at me with wide eyes.

  ‘Actually, sweetheart, she can come in now, or be fired. If your conversation is more important, then that’s up to Aria.’ I tapped my foot and raised an eyebrow. He stared back at me, lip curling in disgust. Oh, I know your type, fella. I’ve been dealing with men like you my whole life, and you are absolutely nothing special, sunshine.

  ‘I’ve got to go!’ Aria hissed, shuffling away from him as she ran past me into the club. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly as she passed me. I stared down the boyfriend for a few moments longer, neither of us saying anything, before turning back and going into the club, locking the door behind me.

  ‘Aria.’ I turned on my heel to face her.

  ‘I am so, so sorry, Bel. He’s just… he doesn’t like me working here, and we got into it, and it won’t happen again.’ That was probably the most I’d ever heard Aria say in one go. Her wide green eyes looked up in fear, and she tucked strands of her black bobbed hair behind her ears.

  ‘Aria, do you like working here?’ I asked.

  ‘I love it. I love being here,’ she replied quietly. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Darling, you’re very good at what you do. You could be great if you loosened up a little, relaxed into your body, acted a little more confident.’

  ‘I just… I… I can do better.’

  I sighed, leaning in. ‘Darling, I don’t want you to do better, I want you to feel better. Is this what you want to do, bartending?’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I was training, but it seemed like a waste of time. Dave said it was better if we both made some money, saved for somewhere nice to live, instead of… dreaming of impossible things.’

  I smiled then; I couldn’t help it. ‘Darling, without impossible dreams, this place wouldn’t exist.’ I gestured around me at the club, saving the second half of the sentence for my own thoughts: and without more impossible dreams, it won’t be here much longer.

  ‘It’s amazing,’ Aria agreed. ‘I expected all the performers to be snooty and… they’re not. They’re just normal people. And everything just… sparkles.’

  ‘Good… it’s meant to,’ I said. I paused, wondering if I should get involved in her life, but when their private lives came to my club, I got to say my piece.

  ‘Aria, you can tell me to fuck off…’

  ‘I sincerely doubt that,’ she said, and I laughed in surprise.

  ‘Okay, you can’t, but I’m going to give you a piece of advice, and you can ignore it or not. But I’ve been where you’ve been. So I’m going to say three words: fuck-off fund.’

  She blinked. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Dave says you need to be saving together, right? Is he saving?’

  She paused, and I waited for the excuse. ‘He’s… his work is quite seasonal…’

  ‘And who’s in charge of the shared money that you’re both saving? Does he give it to you, or do you hand your money over to him?’

  ‘Well, he’s opened an account for us, so…’ Aria knew how she sounded, I could tell. The colour in her cheeks, the clenching of her teeth. ‘He’s not a bad guy, he’s just having a bad day.’

  ‘Or a bad month, or a bad year,’ I said, still smiling as kindly as I could. ‘Darling, maybe he’s a Prince Charming underneath, and maybe you see something no one else sees. But just in case, do me a favour? Start putting twenty per cent of your salary into a different account, okay? Sometimes we don’t think we’re trapped until the cage door closes.’

  Aria opened her mouth as if to argue, paused, and then nodded. ‘Twenty per cent.’

  ‘Or as much as you can spare.’

  ‘Did you need a fuck-off fund?’

  I nodded, smiling at the young girl who seemed so much like I did back then, sweet and amiable and eager to please and work. Keen to make excuses. I was never as quiet as her, but a few more years with Euan, and who knows? Who knows what I would have become if I’d stayed? We’d be in that same shitty flat, I’d be working myself to exhaustion, thin and broken and not really sure why I was doing anything any more.

  In almost every world I could imagine, I left Euan. The only thing that changed was how and when.

  ‘I did, and it saved my life.’

  ‘Was…’ She pressed her lips together, wondering how far to push it. I scared the new ones when they started, I knew that much. They saw this spiky woman who didn’t take any shit, and over time I revealed a little softness here and there – presents for Charlotte’s little one, n
ights out for the team. All Aria saw was a woman who would have her polishing glasses if she didn’t like how those drinks tasted. Perfection was what I required, and anything less was not acceptable.

  ‘Ask me,’ I said. ‘You get one chance.’

  ‘Was the guy you fucked off from the one who was here the other day? The suit who wasn’t a suit?’

  Something told me Aria needed to know.

  ‘Yep, that’s my husband. I left ten years ago. Sadly, I should have been smart enough to divorce the idiot at the time. Still, you live and learn.’

  Aria paused again, before meeting my eyes. ‘Did you miss him?’

  ‘Sure, I’d loved him. But the longer I stayed with him, the less like me I felt. Now, I get to be me. If I’d stayed, I wouldn’t have survived.’

  Aria said nothing, but nodded. She got it.

  Or she would, over the next few days, months, weeks. Maybe a year, at most. She would start to look at Dave as a bump in the road, rather than a knight in shining armour. She’d stop thinking of herself as loyal, as half of a whole, and start dreaming again. I could almost guarantee it.

  ‘Now, we’re all good, right? You’re happy here, I’m happy with you. Don’t be afraid to shine a little brighter, be a little louder, okay? You’re a good worker, you’re safe here. Be yourself.’

  The smile Aria gave me was blinding. She nodded and hopped behind the bar to restock, a little smile playing around her lips as she worked. People always offered their best when they felt safe. Sam had taught me that.

  The next stop was Jacques, who had been texting me non-stop to demand my attention. I found him in the changing room, sitting in front of the mirror.

  ‘I’ve been told you have good news? You won the lottery? You’re not leaving me, are you, darling, because you know I’d waste away to nothing pining for you.’ I threw myself into a chair as Jacques dotted concealer under his eyes, taking off a couple of years in that way men can when they know how to use make-up.

  ‘Leave this place? I’d crumble.’ Jacques spared me a look in the mirror, his eyes knowing. ‘No, be prepared to worship me – I’ve got the entertainment editor from The Daily visiting tonight. Front and centre, doing a feature on one of the best-hidden secrets in Soho. One of London’s longest-running cabaret and burlesque venues, with a vivacious and delectable owner. There’ll be charmed by the staff, thrilled by the food, given a perfect cocktail and excellent wine, and they’ll write up an outstanding review, to come out tomorrow. Et voilà – we’re back on top.’

  ‘You are a fucking masterpiece.’ I laughed, clapping my hands in delight. ‘How?’

  ‘A lady never tells.’ He winked. ‘But let’s leave it at the fact that I’m a miracle worker.’

  ‘You are!’ I took a breath, balancing between the desire to dance in celebration, and to run out and double check everything to be sure. ‘Can you put your miracle-working towards my mother visiting the club tonight?’

  Jacques tousled his hair and raised an eyebrow. ‘Your mother? Is she incredibly fabulous?’

  ‘She’s…’ I shrugged. ‘She’s incredibly my mother.’ I flicked my hair and rolled my eyes, feeling every inch the teenager, before sitting up straight. ‘Darling, just give her the VIP treatment when she arrives, okay? If she’s got a big drink in her hand and she’s enjoying herself, my life is easier. Be your charming self.’

  ‘You want me to flirt with your mother, and get her drunk?’ Jacques grinned at me.

  ‘Absolutely. If you can also keep her away from me, that would also be great.’

  ‘You are not having the best couple of days, are you?’ Jacques shook his head. ‘Do we need to go out for a drink soon so you can vent?’

  ‘Honestly? I’m getting a little tired of drinking. And thinking. Maybe we could go for a run?’

  Jacques turned to face me with a look of concern.

  ‘Running? You hate running. Are you okay?’

  ‘Of course. I’m me, darling. How could I be anything else but perfectly excellent?’

  Jacques said nothing, just looked at me like he knew better than to say what he was thinking. I raised an eyebrow, and nodded, before getting up.

  I was Arabella goddamn Hailstone, and I ran the best burlesque club in the city. And tonight everyone was going to see that.

  Chapter Five

  Sam showed up with Mum about eight, when everyone was being seated for the dinner service. She scrubbed up well, my mother, which was no surprise. Her hair was curled and smooth, her bright lipstick and the extra mascara made her eyes pop. She surveyed the club with something akin to surprise, maybe even the slightest moment of being impressed. But then it was gone, and her lips twitched back to a pout. Her outfit was surprising: a fitted corseted top with floaty sheer sleeves. It was something I maybe would have worn when I first started coming to burlesque shows. And it didn’t look cheap either. Apparently that intention to stop spending was working well.

  She clung to Sam’s arm as he led her in. Mum looked relaxed, but I would recognize that vice-like grip anywhere. She was not letting Sam slip away any time soon and the slight panic in his eyes told me he knew it too.

  He led her over to the bar, where Jacques raised an eyebrow at me, tilting his head in a question. I nodded, and watched as he made a fuss of my mother, wishing her a beautiful evening, suggesting a cocktail just for her, and I watched as she did the same as every other woman in the club when Jacques focused on her – she bloomed. As she settled at the bar, leaning in and smiling, Sam slipped off, waving to me across the room, and making a quick exit.

  I knew I should go over at some point. Make an effort to show off, to make her feel special. But trying to impress my mother always felt like begging for scraps, and I couldn’t afford to have her cut me down in front of my staff. There had been enough blasts from the past this week to destroy my reputation forever.

  ‘Aria, darling.’ I beckoned her over from around the corner of the bar. ‘A reviewer from The Daily is coming tonight. I assume they’ll check in at the front – will you let the girls know, make sure they’re completely charming? We need no less than perfection.’

  ‘Got it.’ Aria nodded, and I blinked, assessing her.

  ‘That shade of lipstick is excellent on you. Jut your chin a little, and drop your shoulders.’

  She followed my lead, lifting her head up. I nodded. ‘Power stance. Easiest way to fake confidence.’

  Aria grinned at me suddenly, and walked off to the front desk with her head held high. She’d be a good addition to the family, and she’d need us when she got rid of that ridiculous boyfriend. Assuming I would still be in business by the time that happened.

  I heard Desiree’s husky voice come over the speakers, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you’re in the mood for a delicious treat tonight, because we have a show unlike any other. We have luscious ladies, dance moves that defy gravity and, as always, a glorious French man to make you feel faint. So order another cocktail and prepare to be amazed, darling ones! You have ten minutes to prepare for gloriousness.’

  MCs needed sass more than anything else, but I always picked ones who could sing. Desiree looked like a naughty opera singer, and when she belted a tune it made your jaw drop. Tonight was going to be a good night. As long as I could remember to keep breathing.

  The kitchen was prepped, the food was being delivered. I took a scan of the room. A few loved-up couples, a hen party, a couple of birthday parties… a good noisy crowd to get involved and stamp their feet and holler. That’s what I needed. Some noise.

  ‘Coo-eee!’ My mother waved dramatically at me, pointing at herself as if I wouldn’t believe she was really there. On some level, I supposed, I couldn’t.

  I leaned in and kissed her cheek, noticing she was wearing my perfume. God knew what havoc she had wreaked on my home in the hours I’d been out. She’d always done that, gone looking in my wardrobe for things to wear, before commenting that they were probably too big for her. Such silly things to think ab
out years later, but some stuff just sticks with you, like a piece of paper stuck in the crag of a mountain, or a piece of spinach between your teeth. It just sits there, annoying you with its inability to let go.

  ‘So, Mum, I see you’ve met Jacques. I trust he’s treating you well?’ I gave Jacques a sly look across the bar, and he winked at me.

  ‘Oh yes, he is quite something, darling. He’s not… I mean, they don’t… make extra money on the side here, do they?’ She wrinkled her nose, but didn’t look as disgusted as I would have expected. Instead, she looked positively intrigued.

  ‘Mother, are you asking if my head bartender, one of the stars of my show and my dear friend is also a prostitute?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know, do I?’ My mother shrugged, sipping at her cocktail, a French Martini with a twist of lime, and rolling her eyes at me. ‘He’s incredibly handsome and was very flirty! I thought perhaps he was looking for some extra income.’

  I counted down from ten in my head.

  ‘He’s not a prostitute. Also, he’s gay. Jacques is an excellent performer and bartender, and he makes people feel special and welcome. That’s the name of the game here, a little flirtation, a little excitement. It’s not real, it’s just sparkle.’ I gestured to everything around me, trying to make her understand.

  ‘Nothing real, just sparkle,’ my mother said with disappointment. ‘How appropriate.’

  ‘And what does that mean?’

  I clenched my hands and closed my eyes briefly. When I opened them, I saw one of the hostesses walking through with a tall man, who was looking around himself with undisguised interest. A little underdressed, a little used to being invisible. He had to be the journalist. Casey was smiling, and joking, and he simply nodded, professional and polite, eyes taking everything in.

  ‘Just… what does this achieve, darling, really? Entertainment? Flirting? It’s all a lie, right, that’s what you mean? It’s sleight of hand rather than talent.’ She shook her head and sipped again at her drink. ‘At least the cocktails are good, though.’