A Solution to Money Troubles? Ch. 01

Behind the desk was another woman who looked up from her phone for a moment, nodded, and then returned to her texting. She had spiked her hair in a punkish style and had on a leather jacket with a bikini underneath. Sitting on a settee opposite the desk I heard the music start for the next dancer, but could not hear if she was getting a response from the audience.

When the music stopped, I expected her to come off. Instead, a couple of minutes later another track came on. This time when it ended a pair of giggly girls burst in. One in the ubiquitous Catholic schoolgirl costume and the other sporting a cane. I realised the last girl was a slutty teacher. From the red welt on her leg, it looked like she's accidentally hit herself with the cane during her act. Both were about nineteen and a little overweight, it was obvious both had been drinking as they laughed over the mark on the leg.

After the music started again Mike poked his head into the room to tell us to get ready, as this was the last performer.

We queued on the stairs and moments after the music ended, we hurried on stage. Whilst we lined up, I instantly I felt sorry for the last girl as she struggled back into her clothes. I'm ashamed to admit I was glad to see she was both fat and very drunk. She was arguing with some of the crowd who were shouting abuse at her. Therefore, it looked like it was just the four of us in the running. The teacher came third, I suspect as compensation for the nasty welt she'd inflicted on herself. OK, fifty-fifty, but I came second. The punk girl won. OK, not great, but £250 is better than nothing.

We waited outside another office as the punk went in. Only moments later we heard shouting and swearing and she retreated from the room before the looming Mike. She was shouting at someone in the room.

"Please just leave quietly miss," Mike spoke calmly.

"Fuck off and leave me alone you wanker!" She almost spat in his face. I was standing behind him and saw his muscles bulge. I think the girl saw it too and backed off a little.

"I only ask politely once." He pointed to the door and she yelled her last expletive and stormed off.

I stepped into the office to find a tanned middle age man behind the desk. Suddenly it reminded me of the one time I'd been sent to the headmaster for misbehaving. Dressed as he was didn't help. He slipped a sheath of paper across to me, without looking at my face. Something about the guy creeped me out.

"What's this?"

"A contract. I presume you're after a job?" He finally looked me in the eye.

"No! I just wanted to try it once." I pushed the papers back and enjoyed the look of surprise on his face. He pulled a wad of notes from his pocket.

"I saw your act. To be honest I thought it was crap..." Instantly my dislike this man solidified and I would have left until he started counting out five fifty pound notes. "However, within a month, with some training and pointers from my people, you could be one of the best paid dancers here."

"No thank you," I replied with a little edge to my answer and started to reach for the money. He dropped a business card on top.

"Just in case." I took it just to be polite. Never be rude to someone paying you. Damn my parents and my good upbringing.

Back in the dressing room, I pulled my street clothes over my costume. "What happened with the other dancer?" I asked Trish and the other two dancers on a break.

"Wasn't it obvious? She was a pro. I could tell from the moment she phoned up."

"So why let her dance?" I noticed a look of disappointment on her face as if I'd just said something stupid. Then it fell into place. "Oh! I get it. Let her give a professional dance and you don't have to pay her. But why let her win?"

"Don't get me wrong dear, but even that drunken rabble out there..." She gestured to the front of the club and the ash fell from her cigarette. "Could tell a fix if she'd not won. This way "His Nibs" next door has happy punters and saves five hundred quid. I take it he gave you his card?" I nodded and she gestured I should hand it over and she added a number to the back. "If you ever feel tempted to call him, phone me first. At the very least, I can tell you how to avoid being ripped off. But call me any time; I get bored sitting here by myself most nights."

Taking back the card, I reached down to hug her. I was touched she cared that much about a stranger. Thanking her and the other dancers I left, slightly disappointed I'd not seen Mike on the way out.

In the car park, I noticed the other dancer smoking a cigarette in the car next to mine and as I approached she called through the open windows.

"Did they rip you off too?"

"No." I couldn't think what else to say and jumped as she hit the steering wheel.

"Fuck! The other girls told me not to try it. Do you think he'll do it? Call my boss and get me sacked?"

"I doubt it," I replied for support. Not that anything to back that up. "I think that would just be to make sure you didn't cause trouble"

"It's only that which stopped me keying every car in this car park, just to make sure I got that bastard's car. Well except yours. It's obvious that heap of junk isn't the owner's." with that she threw her cigarette out of the window and drove off.

I stopped only to squander a precious £10 on a bottle of wine and a giant bag of maltesers on the way home. I drove home trying to figure out how to make it through the next five months.