'You mean you and him…?'
'Yeah,' Sam’s face lit up. 'You wouldn’t think it to look at him would you?'
'No, you wouldn’t.'
'Yep, he’s a mean queen-killing machine. For me to so much as look at a bloke is to condemn him to a cement overcoat.'
'Maybe you should open the door then, let him see there’s nothing to worry about.'
Sam laughed.
'Your face, William. Don’t worry. I’m just having you on. Now he’s seen you he won’t be worried.'
'What do you mean?'
Sam got to his feet and moved to the door.
'That’s what I love about you William, always able to laugh at yourself. I’ll catch you after the show eh? Bill likes me to stay in the wings when he’s got business on, but we’ll grab a drink, the three of us, when you’ve done your set.' He gave me a last grin and I thought I could see a new, tougher Sam beneath the comic I’d known. It was hard to imagine this new shiny version bothering to parry some of the heckling I’d seen the old Sam spar with. He said, 'Don’t let me down. I gave you a big build.' Then shut the door gently behind him.
I sat for a moment, after Sam’s footsteps had faded down the stairs, wondering what I had got myself into. Then I took the bottle by the neck, slipped into the hallway and tapped at the door of the girls’ dressing room. A female voice said, 'Oh, for fuck’s sake!'
There was the sound of another woman laughing then the Asian girl opened the door. I held up the bottle of wine.
'I thought you might fancy a wee drink.'
Shaz leaned in the doorway, her left hip jutting towards me, right arm swinging the door slowly against her body.
'We’ve got our own thanks.'
Through the slim gap I could see the blonde sitting at the dressing-table, intent on her reflection. Both girls were wrapped in long cotton dressing gowns, their makeup bright and showgirl thick. The door started to close on Shaz’s smile. I slid a foot into the room, and her smile died. She said in a calm voice, 'Jacque, will you phone down to the bar and tell them we’ve got a wanker up here?'
Jacque looked up from the dressing-table. I held a hand up in surrender, but kept my foot where it was.
'No, look, don’t, I’ve got a proposition for you.'
Jacque’s voice was weary.
'In case you haven’t noticed we’ve got all the work we need right now, love.'
'That’s right,' the other girl was calm but there was an edge to her voice that had been absent before. 'We’re going to have our hands full.'
'It’ll be an easy score for one of you.'
'There’s no such thing, mate.'
'Oh, ask him what he wants Shaz.'
I looked beyond the gatekeeper at the girl in the mirror.
'Purely business.'
She kept her gaze on her reflection; concentrating on pencilling a beauty spot on her left cheekbone, level with the corner of her eye. She frowned at the pressure of the pencil against her skin.
'Nothing up your sleeve?'
I smiled and pulled back my cuffs.
'See for yourself.'
She gave her reflection one last look, then put down the pencil and swivelled round in her seat. Her face looked sharper than the image in the mirror, or perhaps she was getting tired of our conversation.
'Just ask him in, Shaz.'
Shaz bit her lip.
'As long as he understands whatever he wants it’ll cost. We’re not here for charity.'
'I think he knows that.'
'Of course I do.'
The tall girl leaned back, leaving me a narrow space. I slid by, ignoring the warmth of her body beneath the fabric of her robe.
If I hadn’t known that we were all hired for one night only I might have thought that the girls had inhabited their dressing-room for weeks. The flex of a set of hair tongs snaked through bottles of makeup, a slick of foundation pooled on the scarred dressing-table. An almost empty bottle of white wine and two glasses sat amongst the debris. Their discarded outdoor clothes lay bundled on the bed. A white envelope stuffed with notes jutted from the pocket of a sports bag. It looked like they were on a better rate than me, but then they were the main act while I was just an in-joke.
Shaz closed the door then leaned against a paint-chipped radiator on the far wall, keeping her eyes on me. I
