Digging Deeper (29 page)

Beck’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t believe it. Giles pushed a glass of champagne into his hand.

“Aren’t they fantastic,” he slurred. “Bootiful pussy cats. Miaow.”

Beck wanted to look away but he couldn’t. It was as if his eyes had been pinned open for an operation. As Flick and the other two did the splits on the platform, he got up and bent to speak to Giles.

“We need to go now,” he shouted in his ear.

Baxter pulled Beck down. “We’ve only just got here. Leave him alone. His last night of freedom. Last chance to have some fun.”

Then Baxter, who had a wife and six-month-old twins at home, slumped back in his chair and promptly passed out.

“We’ve still four girls to get.” Sebastian tugged Beck back on his seat after he got up for the second time. “P, Q, V and Y and we’re not leaving until we’ve finished.”

Beck tried not to look at the stage but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to walk out yet he couldn’t leave Giles. He noticed his hand was wet and looked down to find he’d broken his glass, snapped the stem off and the cheap champagne for which he’d paid a fortune had poured on to the table. His hand shook. The men around him were shouting and calling out, whistling at the dancers, tossing money onto the platform. The music pounded in his head. He wanted to kill them. And her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kill her and kiss her. Kiss her first. Then kill her. Oh God.

Flick wanted this to be over. Everything was the same, yet everything was different. She moved on automatic pilot. She held the tip of her tail, ran it over her body, between her legs and kept her eyes closed. So stupid. It never occurred to her Giles might have his stag night at the club. This would have been so easy to avoid. Why hadn’t she walked in and quit after last night? Everything had changed. Beck had changed her life What was she doing up on this stage without her clothes? Damn, damn, damn!

She slithered along the platform, coiling up each of the three poles in turn. The mask hid nothing. Beck’s eyes burned holes in her skin. She didn’t want to move to the far end near their table and she began to change her routine but the men down there called her, shouted her and something clicked inside Flick. A knowledge that it didn’t matter anymore. She shot back until she danced right in front of them, face to face with Giles, flicking her tongue over her lips. Giles reached out but she was too quick. Beck’s hands stayed on the table, no expression on his face.

Flick kept her gaze down. She felt as though she’d been dancing for hours not minutes but finally the music came to an end in an explosion of sound and light and the pole carried her back into the ceiling.

The moment the opening closed and she was away from Beck’s eyes, she pulled off her mask and burst into tears.

“What’s the matter, princess?” Gerry asked. “Has some tosser tried to touch you? Point him out and I’ll get Len to deal with him.”

Flick shook her head. “No. It’s someone I know who didn’t expect to see me here.”

Gerry gave her a careful look. “Do you want to go home?”

She wanted to crawl under her bed and find a parallel universe where this hadn’t happened.

“Sorry, Gerry, I’m through. I can’t do this anymore.”

Beck watched as Giles’ friends put together a pile of notes to buy a lap dance. They woke Baxter long enough for him to take two tens out of his wallet before he passed out again. In shock, Beck put twenty pounds on the table with the rest.

“That redheaded kitty-cat,
hic
…that’s the one I want,” Giles hiccupped.

“Go and pay for her.” Pete offered Beck the money.

Beck somehow got up, only his feet were stuck. Sebastian gave him a shove and he made his way over to one of the tuxedoed bouncers.

He wanted to ask—
What the fuck is Flick doing here?
—but “I want to buy a lap dance for my friend,” came out of his mouth.

“Speak to Gerry.” The guy nodded in the direction of another man.

Beck struggled over and repeated his statement.

“Which girl?” Gerry asked.

“The redhead.”

“She won’t do it. Pick any of the others.”

“Ask her.”

“No point. She only does pole dancing. Pick someone else.”

Beck returned to the table. Was the fact that Flick wouldn’t grind her hips into a guy’s face supposed to make him feel better?

Pete had a word with each of them and then said to Beck, “A thousand pounds. She’ll do it for a thousand pounds.”

Beck gasped. “You’re crazy.”

“Hey, she’s the one Giles picked. We can afford it. We’ll split the cost between us if you don’t want to chip in. Use my credit card. Go ask her.”

Beck went back to Gerry.

“So, he made another choice?”

“He still wants the redhead. A thousand pounds.”

Beck offered him the credit card and the guy stopped laughing.

“Is this yours? P. Barker?”

“No, it’s his. The one in the pink shirt. The lap dance is for the man next to him in the striped shirt. It’s his stag night.”

“I’ll ask her.”

“Want to earn a thousand pounds?” Gerry asked.

Flick dried her face. “Why do I think the answer is no?”

“A group in there wants the redhead to lap dance for a guy who’s getting married.”

“No,” Flick said.

“A thousand pounds, princess. It’s a lot of money. I know you need it.” Gerry hesitated. “It pains me to say this, but you can keep it all. A goodbye present.”

Flick saw the look in his eye and knew he wanted to see her lap dance too.

“I can’t do it. I don’t lap dance, you know that. Ask Natasha or Katya.”

Flick washed her face again. She understood now about people never feeling clean when they’d done something awful. She could have told Beck, explained why she did this. She could still explain. Her heart belly-flopped into her stomach. No, she couldn’t.

Beck watched the man walk over to their table and felt a pain in his chest spring up like sharp bamboo.

“Your card?” he asked Pete. “Sign here.”

Beck got up and walked out. Only once he stood outside the club, he realized he couldn’t just disappear. He daren’t leave Giles with these guys. He’d heard Pete muttering about stripping him and tying him to a roof rack of some random car. He’d promised Willow he’d get him home in one piece and that was what he’d do. He’d wait for a while and then go back inside.

Flick watched as Natasha, in a red wig and her snake costume, earned a thousand pounds, half for her and half for Gerry. She knew if she’d done the dance Gerry really would have let her keep all the money. Flick wouldn’t have done it for a million pounds.

Well, maybe for a million.

After all, the damage had been done. Anything there between her and Beck had been destroyed. She’d seen it in his face. Now he’d gone and Giles’ eyes were on stalks. Flick supposed Beck was too disgusted to stick around.

“You’re really not coming back again, are you?” Gerry said in Flick’s ear as they watched Natasha.

She shook her head.

“So, you know those guys?”

“A couple of them.”

Gerry guided her through a private door to where it was quieter.

“What’s the problem, princess? Tell me what’s eating you up.”

“How would you feel if you went into a club and found your girlfriend pole dancing?”

“I’d be pissed off I didn’t know. She could have been working for me.” He winked.

“Would you want to date a girl who takes her clothes off in front of other men? The guys in here don’t regard us as relationship material; they just like to ogle our tits and bums. They think we’re cheap sluts and wank off imagining they’re shagging us. They might not get to touch me, but I make it look as though I want them to. That’s the whole point. When I take off my clothes and dance around the pole, I’m sharing myself with hundred of guys, so I’m not special for one. I wouldn’t want my boyfriend to do what I do, why should I expect him to accept me doing it?”

Gerry stood looking at her for a moment. “I’m not surprised you’re saying that, only that it’s taken you so long to come out with it. I’ll miss you, princess. If you change your mind, there’s always a pole for you.”

“Or a Russian or Albanian.” She smiled.

Gerry laughed.

Flick cleared out her locker and pushed all her stuff into a plastic bag. There was a lot about Polecats she’d miss, but more that she wouldn’t. She went to look for Natasha to say goodbye and bumped into Giles, staggering out of the gents, supported by two of his friends.

“Felicity Xanthe Knyfe, you luscious piece of fluff. Do you come here often?” he slurred.

“Only when it’s your stag night, Giles.”

“How about a kiss? I’m missing an X whose tits aren’t down to her waist.” He belched.

Flick rolled her eyes but as she stepped sideways to move past, Giles caught hold of her arm and pulled her face next to his. Flick thumped him but the guys with him moved in behind her, pinning her in place. She felt a flutter of panic but not for her own safety. Gerry or one of the bouncers would be watching this on CCTV. She had to do something before they burst into action.

Beck had worn a line in the pavement outside the club, but this time he wasn’t out there voluntarily. He didn’t know what made him angrier, the fact that Flick had danced topless in front of someone other than him or that she hadn’t told him what she did. By the time he’d pulled himself together sufficiently to go back inside, throw his jacket over her and drag her from the stage, he’d been so blinded by tears he’d got the wrong girl and been forcibly ejected. He’d tried twice to sneak back in but the bouncers had made it clear another attempt would be very painful and might involve the police. Beck rang Giles on his mobile to tell him he had taxis arriving in ten minutes, with no expectation that the phone would be heard above the music, but to his surprise Giles answered.

As Giles took his hand off Flick to answer his phone, she twisted around, brought her knee up into his crotch and then dropped to the floor. She was much too quick for three drunks and reached the end of the corridor before any of them knew what had happened. It had been easier to get away from them than she’d expected. The phone call had helped. It proved more difficult to persuade Gerry not to teach Giles and his mates some manners.

Beck’s grip tightened on his phone. He heard Giles shouting Flick’s name and then heard him groaning. He stabbed at the off button. Now he wanted to kill Giles too.

The taxis arrived as the group exited the club. One of the black cabs was for the guys who lived in Leeds while the other was to take the Londoners to their hotel before continuing on to Ilkley with Giles and Beck.

“Giles you are one lucky man,” Tim said. “I am so jealous.”

Beck didn’t want to listen to this.

“I didn’t think they were supposed to let you touch them,” Sebastian said with a laugh.

“What did I do?” Giles had a stupid grin on his face.

“Licked her nipples, you crazy fool,” Tim yelled.

“Tasty, tasty, very, very tasty,” all but Beck sang in chorus.

Beck wished he was drunk, incoherently raging drunk.

“Flick has the sweetest lips,” Giles mumbled. “But my balls ache so much.” His head dropped to Beck’s shoulder and he fell asleep.

The journey back to Ilkley was a long one for Beck. Enough alcohol raced through his bloodstream to make him drunk but he’d never felt so sober. Flick had told him all about her jobs, just not mentioned the one that really mattered. Why hadn’t she told him? Because she was ashamed. Then why do it? She didn’t look ashamed. She’d wrapped herself around that pole like a length of ribbon, writhed on the platform, ran her hands all over her body.

Maybe he could have coped with that, but she’d lap danced for Giles, let him lick her breasts, touch her. That, he couldn’t forgive. It had made him think again about the things she was supposed to have done and claimed she hadn’t; like kissing Giles and the affair with Henry, plus that crap about being kidnapped.

Giles woke as they pulled up outside the house. Beck paid the driver and dragged Giles from the car. He didn’t try to be gentle and dropped him on the gravel.

“Was she a good fuck?” Giles asked as he stared up at him. “She must have been. She could do anything with those legs. Snake woman. Cat woman.” He hiccupped.

Beck hauled him to his feet. “Shut up.”

As he struggled to push the key in the lock, Willow pulled the door open.

“Hello, my angel, my little pudding, guess where we’ve been,” Giles slurred.

“Midnight mass?”

“Guess again.” Giles hiccupped.

“Supermarket?”

“Nope. Beck is the bestest best man in the whole of the world.”

“I’ll help you get him upstairs,” Beck said. “Sorry, Willow, but he’s completely smashed.”

“Drunk I can cope with, black eyes and broken arms on the photos, I can’t.”

Beck knew she expected him to laugh, but he couldn’t. He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt.

“What’s the matter?” she whispered.

“Nothing,” Beck said.

“Flick danced for me. Dad will be green.”

“Flick? What was Flick doing on your stag night?” Willow had alarm etched all over her face.

“Let’s get him in bed and I’ll explain,” Beck said, thinking how he couldn’t explain anything.

Flick drove back along the A65 with her heart pounding. She stopped twice to throw up. By the time she crawled into bed, she’d thought through so many different scenarios her head buzzed. Pointless hoping Beck wouldn’t mind. She’d seen his face. Hurt, disappointed, angry and worse. If she told him the truth and how desperately she needed the money, would it make any difference? Would it have made any difference if she’d told him before? She didn’t think so. If she said she’d never do it again, could they turn the clock back as though it hadn’t happened? No. He was disgusted and it was over. It was a car crash of a relationship and they’d hit each other head-on. No survivors.

Her head still throbbed when she got up the next morning. She’d had no more than a couple of hours sleep. When she went into the kitchen Josh kept his back toward her and although Flick had thought she couldn’t feel any worse, she realized she was wrong. Everyone knew. Kirsten pulled out a chair and pointed. Flick sat.