Love on the Rocks (Bar Tenders) (20 page)

“Some of us should get better jobs,” Tam sniffed in response.

“Ouch.”

“Well, it’s true,” Tam said. “How do you expect to do anything long-term just doing random bar shifts? You don’t get any benefits, like sick pay, or pension.”

“Oh, my God!” Justin glared at him. “You sound like my mother! Leave me alone.”

“Not until you agree that I’m right,” Tam said with a smile. “Now go to your room.”

Justin glanced around the dressing room. He wished he could go to his room. A nice early night would do him. Another night of pining on his own, worrying if Yena was mad at him, and if so, how much. “Just shut up,” he muttered, going back to his text. “My parents are coming tonight. I need to tell my mum…. Actually, what time are we on?”

“Haven’t got the running order yet,” Tam said. “Last minute reshuffling of acts. Someone pitched a fit about their placement. The usual. I’m sure they’ll sort it out during run-through. Speaking of which….” He got to his feet. “Let’s hover stageside so we don’t get left out. We totally need a run-through. I want to knock Mark’s
Ooh La La’s
off.”

“Huh? What?” Justin looked up with panic. “I didn’t know we were doing the
Ooh La La
number?”

Tam tossed him a withering look. “We’re not, Justin. It was just a saying. You brought your silver outfit, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect. Tonight we’re being super cheesy.”

“Boney M?” Justin guessed.

“ABBA.”

Justin’s heart lifted at that. “Oh, thank God.” Maybe

Chapter Seventeen

A
FTER
A
smooth sound check singing
Super
Trouper
—where Mark Malone got in the DJ booth and did the sound levels himself—Justin felt better. His love of singing, and ABBA, had been his reason for agreeing to this venture with Tam. Cabaret he could take or leave, but singing always made him feel good.

Aside from the compere, they were the only singing act tonight. After Mark and the DJ had given them the thumbs-up, and they’d left the stage, Justin looked around at the other acts waiting their turn and realized they were all women doing some form of striptease.

“Tam,” he said under his breath, “can’t we get on a show with some other male performers? There’s guys who do striptease as well, isn’t there?” When Tam didn’t answer, Justin poked him in the ribs. “Oi. Are you listening?”

Tam dragged his gaze away from the DJ booth and blinked at Justin. “What’s that?”

“God.” Justin rolled his eyes and laughed. “Could you eye-fuck the guy any harder? Let him do his job, yeah.”

“Fuck up,” Tam hissed back, which was his Northern Irish way of saying
shut up
. “I can look, can’t I?”

“You’re looking plenty.”

They moved aside as a girl with a large prop in her arms—looked something like a cupcake made of foam and glitter—ambled her way to the stage.

“Come on,” Tam said. “Let’s go out and get some food before the doors open. I’m fucking starved.”

Pleased that they weren’t going to sit through the other acts, Justin agreed. He should probably eat as well. He hadn’t had much of an appetite lately.

They retrieved their bags and jackets from the cloakroom and walked quietly past the stage as a redhead did a fan dance with white feather fans, still in her street clothes. Justin glanced around at the performers standing by as he and Tam left the venue.

“I can’t see Chi Chi,” he said. “Maybe she’s coming later. She usually does two gigs a night.”

“Lucky bitch,” Tam said, leading the way onto the street.

“Did you have her number?” Justin asked.

“No, she was messaging me on the book of face.”

“Oh.”

They walked toward Brewer Street, past strip clubs and a fancy dress shop. “That patisserie over the road does toasted sandwiches,” Tam said.

Justin nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

“Did you say your parents were coming tonight?”

With a grimace, Justin nodded. “I hope they behave themselves.”

In the patisserie, a buzzy little continental place, they sat at a table and ate their toasted sandwiches. Justin gazed out of the window at passersby, his mind drifting. He tuned back in when Tam scoffed, “Why is there a fucking yogurt shop in Soho?”

“I wondered that earlier,” he said.

“Unless it’s alcoholic yogurt, who cares?” Tam finished his toasty and dusted his hands off on a napkin. “Speaking of which, I bought a drink in the venue earlier and was reminded how extortionate the prices are.”

“The bar’s already open?” Justin asked. It had looked quiet during the run-through.

“No, but I bothered someone until they served me.” Tam grinned. “Nearly five pounds for a thimble’s full of liquid. I’m not standing for that. There’s an off-license nearby, let’s get some vodka.”

Justin thought again about his parents coming tonight, and nodded his head. “Okay. I’ll go halves with you on a small one.”

Tam looked aghast. “Small?”

“I can’t drink too much,” Justin complained. “I hate liquid sloshing about in my stomach when I’m dancing.”

“That’s why you do shots instead, dear,” Tam said slowly, as if explaining it to a five-year-old. “But fine. A small one would be easier to smuggle in.”

Once Justin had finished his toasty, they bundled back into the street and looked for an off-license. The sky was dusky now, with inky blue settling in, and the lights of Soho dazzled all the brighter. They bought a six quid bottle of cheap vodka, and Tam stashed it inside his jacket.

“I’m surprised ol’ Mark Malone hasn’t offered to buy you a drink,” Justin said, as they walked back up the alleyways. “After all that flirting you’ve done with him.”

“I’ll be sure to remind him later,” Tam said. “I didn’t want to bother him too much before the show starts. I’ll wait until it’s over, then get him horrendously drunk.”

Justin shook his head as they approached the venue. “What are you planning to do? Tie him to your bed posts and blackmail him into giving us gigs for a year?”

Unfazed, Tam winked at him. “Not a bad suggestion, Justin. I’ll be sure to tell him you thought of it.”

“No!” Justin laughed. “Leave me out of your sordid affairs.”

“Your loss.”

They waited on the doorstep to be allowed reentry, and this time someone they didn’t know answered the door. When they trooped back into the club, a setup was in process onstage; a tattooed girl in a bra and panties was instructing the stage manager where she wanted an arrangement of props that looked particularly heavy. Poor guy, Justin thought.

The tattooed performer was brunette, so she wasn’t Chi Chi. Backstage, Justin looked for her amid the bustle of women getting ready, but he still couldn’t see her.

In their absence, the compere had arrived, and now sat on a chair at the long mirror, unpacking various makeup from her bag. Upon seeing who it was, Tam squealed and rushed through the women to get to her. The compere, a voluptuous black woman, saw him and dropped her makeup, holding out an arm to catch Tam’s embrace. She squashed him into her chest as she greeted him in her sultry voice. “Hello, darling.”

Justin, too, hurried to greet her and received a bosom-squashing hug. “Dolly!” He grinned eagerly. “I didn’t know you were here tonight. This is fab.”

“Yes,” she declared, smiling at them both. “This is like a Brighton reunion! Fabulous, darling.”

“Fucking fabulous.” Tam flashed the vodka bottle in his jacket. “Do you want to join us, Dolly?”

“What’s that?” She peered in, but held up a hand. “No, I’d better not, my love. I can only drink rum, but it’s for medicinal purposes only. For the throat, you know. It helps me sing.”

They laughed and shared another hug. Dolly had often come to Justin’s old workplace, Rainbows, to sing at their cabaret nights. He’d known her for years.

“Justin, how’s your fabulous father?” she asked, a twinkle in her eye.

“He’s fine.” Justin chuckled. “They’re coming tonight, actually.”

“Are they?” Dolly grinned and picked up her makeup bags again. “Tell him I’ll put on my expensive lipstick, just for him.”

Tam guffawed, while Justin tried to laugh along. “I’ll tell him… maybe when Mum isn’t there.”

“Good point,” Dolly conceded. “If it helps, I’ll offer to kiss her too.”

“Er….”

He knew she was mostly teasing, but Justin had seen his friends when they were drunk and fawning over his dad before, and it always felt a little… weird.

Tam came to the rescue by changing the subject. “Dolly, have you got a running order?”

“Yes, darling.” She pointed at the dressing room door. “It’s taped up there, in the smallest print I’ve ever seen! I had to ask someone to read it for me.”

“Justin,” Tam instructed, “go see when we’re on.”

“Yes, my liege.” Justin took the opportunity to slip away, threading his way back through the melee of performers. He approached the running order and looked for their names. Not on until after eight; they had ages. He also scanned for Chi Chi’s name, but couldn’t see her.

Odd
.

Unless she was performing under a different name tonight. Some performers did that. Justin lost track of all the Cherrys, Honeys, and Fluffy what-nots after a while.

After a little more chat, Tam left Dolly to do her makeup and went to his own bag. Justin sat cross-legged on the floor, checking through his new phone.

We have tickets
, his mum had texted.
Break a leg, love. See you after the show
.

He texted back a thank you and then stared at his screen. If only he’d had Yena’s number. Maybe next week he could go to Foxy’s and speak to that girl, Kathy, even though the thought of doing so made Justin’s chest tighten. Would Yena have told her about him, about their bust up? They seemed close enough.

Justin sighed and put his phone away. “Tam, shall we do a shot, then?”

Raising an eyebrow at his sudden enthusiasm for drinking, Tam looked at him. “Unless you want to swig from the bottle, we’d need shot glasses.”

“Guess I’ll get shot glasses,” Justin muttered. He couldn’t swig, he’d choke himself. He got to his feet and had to maneuver out of the dressing room once again. If only there was more dressing table space in this stupid little room, he thought, everyone wouldn’t need to spread themselves over the floor quite so much.

Armed with shot glasses, he returned. Tam discreetly poured the vodka, and they clinked their shot glasses carefully before knocking them back. Justin grimaced from the burn but didn’t make a fuss. He didn’t normally drink at shows, but tonight called for social lubrication.

The last of the performing cast stomped backstage, grumbling about props, and Renee appeared to make the announcement that doors were opening.

Justin wondered if he should nip outside to see his parents arrive, but decided against it. He knew from experience if he hung around in the crowd making small talk, he’d only grow more nervous. He focused his attentions on getting ready instead.

“Fuck, help me with this,” Tam said, as he tried to unlace his platform boots. “Fucking thing’s knotted. Fuck.”

Justin took the boot before Tam got cross. He always cursed more when he was nervous. Luckily, he managed to get the knots undone, and he unlaced Tam’s boot, only to be given the other boot.

“And this one; thank you, Justin.”

He smiled. After that task was done, they stripped out of their tops and started to apply stage makeup. Pale pink primer and a shimmery dusting over their faces, as well as eye makeup and lip gloss. Glitter spray in their hair finished it off, which was why they had to disrobe when doing the makeup, as the glitter got everywhere, sticking to their chests and arms.

All around them, girls were also applying clouds of shimmery body powder, hair spray, and perfume. There was no air conditioning backstage, and the various fumes hung in the rapidly heating air.

From along the hall in the venue, lounge music filtered through, upbeat and cheery. Justin wasn’t so keen on it, but the whole definition of lounge music was to be background noise. Once the acts hit the stage, the exciting music would kick in.

Shoes stored safely in his kit bag, Justin peeled off his socks and his jeans. He was wearing his very thin—and very expensive—soft grey briefs. After much deliberation with Tam, they’d decided wearing briefs under their stage costumes was necessary, as it kept things in place and meant they didn’t have to bare all backstage.

Even now, Justin felt the eyes of other performers on him. Of course, the girls regularly stripped off and changed their entire outfits, and Justin always politely averted his eyes. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable being naked in a room full of bolshie women.

Tam had no such qualms, and stripped down to his underwear in an unhurried manner. He held up his silver catsuit and shook it out, checking it over out of habit.

Justin too, delved in his bag for his catsuit. The sooner he could get dressed again, the better. He stepped into the legs and pulled the catsuit on, its slithery, cool material sending a small shiver over his skin. Next it was a fresh application of deodorant; then he slipped the arms into place and turned around for Tam to zip him up.

Tam pulled his catsuit on, and Justin zipped him in too. They put on clean socks, thicker sports ones, and they both sat down in order to tug their boots on and lace them up. The boots were silver hologram, a steal from a fancy dress shop that had been selling off old stock. They were sturdy, made for dancing.

Tam unloaded the kit bag that contained their ruffles; smaller ones for their wrists, and large, extravagant ones for their shoulders. Again, they had to help each other fasten them on, and as Justin stood patiently while Tam fitted the neck ruffle on him, he spotted a few of the girls eyeing them.

“Love the costumes,” one performer told them.

Justin smiled. Tam beamed under the praise. “Made by my own fair hand!”

“I hate sewing,” the girl said. “I get my boyfriend and sister to help me.”

They laughed. Justin hated sewing too. He was lucky Tam was good at it. The ruffles they wore tonight had been altered; more silver and white than last time, with clear crystals dotted along the seam of the larger feathers.