Erhard gave Sylvie a hug and his twin Archard came up behind, enclosing her between their two tattooed bodies. My assistant looked like the dancer she was in a natty black cocktail dress whose skirt was all fringes, and a pair of satin shorts that made the most of her legs. Beside me the clown started to mime the new act; I laughed, watching Sylvie out of the corner of my eye as she smiled, showing her perfect American teeth, and wriggled out of the twins’ embrace. I wondered if the rumours about the twins’ sex life were true. It was an interesting thought.
I scanned the room looking for Ulla, realising that the party was getting busier as people drifted in from other shows. Eventually I spotted her on the far side of the room amongst a small knot of well wishers, with Kolja smiling by her side. She’d swapped the high red shoes for a pair of sneakers but still wore the cut-off leggings and vest. They gave her the look of a scruffy principal boy. She laughed and looked up at Kolja. I took a sip of my drink and nodded to show that I was listening to the clown’s description of the aluminium mask he hoped would fool the audience into thinking he was a mechanical man.
There was a light touch on my arm and I turned to see Nixie standing beside me.
'Hello, William.' Her voice was soft and hesitant. The clown gave me a wink, lifted his drink and went into the crowd. Nixie leaned up and kissed me gently on either cheek.
'Sorry.'
'Hey, no worries,' I grinned. 'It worked out OK in the end.'
She smiled. I could see the low neckline of her leotard beneath the gauzy yellow shirt she’d thrown on top. I hesitated; Nixie’s English was equal to my German, but perhaps we could find other ways of communicating. Sylvie was chatting animatedly in the midst of a group of people I didn’t recognise. She looked towards me, raising her eyebrows comically as she saw me leaning in to offer Nixie a drink. I ignored Sylvie’s amusement and headed for the bar.
I was passing Nixie a chilled glass of white when I spotted a tall slim figure I knew walking into the hall. The hula girl raised her glass.
'Prost!'
Her blonde hair was soft and fluffy, her little body as tight and pneumatic as a high-school-movie . She looked wholesome and sweet and she liked me. I gave her a kiss, asked the barman for a glass of champagne and started to make my way across the room.
Zelda had swapped her sailorgirl costume for a sophisticated cowgirl look. Tight blue jeans and high-heeled western boots emphasised her long legs, her open-necked white shirt was crisp and cool, a simple gold lariat pointed from the hollow of her throat down into the crevice between her breasts. All she needed was a hat, a six- shooter and a donkey. I’d never really suited hats and my gun was with the rest of my props, but maybe I could help her out with the donkey side of things. She’d positioned herself by the stage and was standing on her own, glancing around the room, looking as if she wished she hadn’t come. I slid up on her blind side and held out the glass of champagne.
'Drink?'
Zelda smiled.
'Thank you.' She took the glass and lifted it to her lips, leaving a trace of lipstick on its rim. 'I wondered if I would see you here.' I forced my face to stay straight, trying not to look too pleased. Zelda’s voice was amused. 'I heard there was some trouble at the Nachtreview after I left.'
'Maybe a little.' I kept my voice casual. 'Is Sebastian with you?'
'No.' She shook her head laughing. 'He’s angry with himself for letting Sylvie back.'
'It wasn’t her fault, Zelda, a man started to hassle her.'
'Hassle?'
'Harass.'
Zelda shrugged her shoulders.
'I wonder why.' She didn’t wait for me to defend Sylvie any further. 'You didn’t leave me a ticket.'
'I hope you didn’t pay.'
'No,' she gestured vaguely to the room. 'I know people here.'
'It was the first evening, so not as slick as we will be.'
Zelda knew the performers’ etiquette of false modesties, genuine insecurities and praise that was sometimes sincere, sometimes not, but was always welcome.
'You’re very skilled.'
'I’ve always been good with my hands.'
Zelda shook her head, smiling.
'So I saw…’ She looked out towards the dance floor, searching the crowd with her eyes.
'… And you like the torture stuff?'
'No,' I grinned. 'No, it’s all for the act. I’m…’ I hesitated, not sure what I was going to say. 'I’m not into pain.'
Zelda laughed again.
'Not for yourself perhaps, but you chop women in two, stick them full of knives then shoot them.'
There was an edge to her words that I hadn’t expected.
'It’s just an act, Zelda.'
'Yes?' She took another sip of champagne, looking at me over the rim of the glass. 'So as long as it’s pretend
