Phoenyx: Flesh & Fire (36 page)

She crossed my creaky floorboards and went straight to the spot I’d been standing on a moment before.

“I don’t want this any more than you do,” she said at last, echoing my thoughts so clearly that I briefly speculated on the existence of ESP. “Head says:
yes
. Heart says: dear God,
no
. It feels like leaving home for the first time all over again. Leaving school and having to go out into the big wide horrible, scary world. Doesn’t it, darling?”

She turned to me with dripping eyes, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. I threw myself at her and buried my face in her shoulder, the pair of us standing there in a deep, passionate hug.

“I would do it all again if I could,” she told me. “If I could turn back time – and get the chance to take all those other paths that I might have taken over the years – well, I wouldn’t have done a single thing differently. This place
made
me, Phoenyx. And I’m going to feel so incomplete – bereaved – without it. Yet what else can we do?”

Her nails had begun to bite into me, chewing little gouges out of my arms and shoulder like a bigger and blunter version of Boris. She was actually taking this pretty bad, literally needing someone to cling to, and shivering as she spoke.

“Be glad that it happened,” I sniffed. “And be proud of what we were, and what we did. Without entertainers, the world would be such a grey and miserable place.

“Even animals have entertainers in their packs, you know,” I went on, comforting myself, and her, with scraps of facts absorbed from a random reading of a
National
Geographic
magazine the week before. “Jesters who break up the tension between angry alphas and battling betas. And they’re rewarded for it too, with good portions of prey.”

She stood back from me admiringly, looking me up and down. “I’m so proud of you, you know,” she said. “I’ve seen you grow up from an anxious girl to our star attraction. I’d like to think that I helped you along in some small way, but I reckon at least 99% of the effort was yours, and yours alone, darling; that you would have made it regardless. That passion and determination will take you further, I know. You’re strong and single-minded. You take no crap and you never gave any in return either. I just wish we—” she broke off to dry her eyes. “Aw, no. There’s no point in going over it again. What
will
you do after this, darling?”

“I’ve no idea,” I mumbled, unwilling to look further than a few minutes into the future at that point. I had come upstairs to get
away
from all that, after all. “I’ll take it as it comes. Go with the flow, I guess.”

She turned away and fumbled with a lighter and cigarettes. “I can’t believe I’m going to have to start looking for another job at this age,” she groaned. “I can’t do anything else. What about you? Do you have any secret, hidden talents?”

I flashed a smile. I’d considered a smart-ass response, but couldn’t think of anything sufficiently amusing to say, not having been blessed with Honey’s razor-blade wit. “No, not really.”

“Well, I’ve thought about going to college or something. But now I realize the folly in not making myself financially independent when I had the chance. Maybe that was the one thing in the past I should have done differently. Prepared for this day.” She blew a puff of smoke towards my window and the light shimmered across it, picking out the millions of particles. And I felt just like one of those particles, a tiny speck blown away into oblivion. She turned to me with a more familiar sideways smirk. “Although you still look hot enough to go down on at the drop of a hat, darling.”

I took two steps back and closed the door behind me.

“Come on, then,” I said. If she was offering, then I was definitely accepting. She still had it all, and in some ways I couldn’t believe that the woman was still single and worrying about her future. Surely one with her charm, grace and looks would have no difficulty finding security in her post-Klub days?

And perhaps she was thinking the same thing about me.

Playing around and socializing was all very well, in a world where swear words like ‘commitment’ and ‘serious relationship’ were never heard, nor uttered; nor even known to exist, for that matter. And how strange, I thought, that it was the most mouthy, independent, all-or-nothing firebrand named Honey who was the only one out of all of us to actually speak of such abominations. (Had I ever truly gotten over her? I don’t think any of us can easily forget such moments of hesitation which end up losing us fair maid, nor truly forgive our weaknesses, or quit beating ourselves up over them in our weaker, more selfish moments. We can only wear a hair shirt for so long before it finally gets eaten away by maggots and falls apart, yet the prickly sensations can last far longer.)

She followed me towards the bed and pushed her face into the back of my neck. “You’re so wonderful, darling. But right now, I just want to hold someone close.”

I felt her arms encircle me and I leaned back, thinking of moments past in WOW’s ladies’ changing room, and elsewhere. Olivia hadn’t changed her perfume in nearly twenty years and that whiff of rose water was enough to rekindle some of the hottest moments of my life, moments that had kept me going through so many rough times. Someone once said that the olfactory sense was the best at recalling memories of the past which was why I still had all my part-empty bottles of No. 5 on the shelf.

“Sometimes I wonder if none of us ever quite grew up properly,” she reflected as she rested her chin on my shoulder. “Y’know, playing at flirting with boys and teasing like when we were at school. And God knows how many offers all of us could have had, and how many we turned down, or never even considered – being too blinded by our own beautiful lights, believing our own publicity and narcissism until the day comes when we all realize that we can’t keep it up any longer. The moment none of us prepared for. I don’t mean that to sound horrible, darling; I’m just trying to express why I feel so bad about this.”

I pushed back into her and brushed my cheek against her hair.

“Do you know something,” I said, “that every time I smell rose water, I think of you. And I always will. And those thoughts will always get me going inside.”

Her teeth nibbled my ear lobe. “That’s so sweet, darling.”

She hung around my neck while I awaited her next move, tingling with expectation. Then I felt a swift slap on the rump and she broke off the clinch.

“Well, I’d better get on with business,” she said, and headed for the door.

I watched her go, trying hard not to feel disappointed, or rejected. Perhaps the hat had yet to be dropped, metaphorically. Perhaps she had outgrown me, or perhaps she had just changed her mind in her sometimes very fickle way. We were, after all, facing a kind of oblivion and having to cope with a number of unpleasant truths all at once, so I couldn’t blame her for not thinking too clearly.

“You know where I am,” I called after her. “If you need…”

The door clicked shut behind her and her footsteps faded down the wooden hallway to the stairs.

“…anything,” I muttered in conclusion, and as I looked at the room surrounding me, I realized how little I actually had. But there was nothing material that I needed, and nothing that could even be bought, although I hoped – more than ever – that I still had something to give.

As Olivia’s heels hit the top steps, I thought I heard a suppressed snuffle of tears, but I couldn’t be sure.

It was late into the evening when I felt the restless pangs of frustration gnawing at my spine and my hands. I was beyond boredom – I was frustrated almost to tears, helpless and impotent. I had tried reading, I tried sleeping and I tried playing records, but the noise from the bar downstairs continually danced upon my concentration. I pulled my clothes off and threw them over the bed, turned and faced the mirror. Pulled my shoulders back, relaxed. Everything still looked fine, I thought. I hadn’t suddenly developed any wrinkles, or piled on pounds of fat anywhere important. The sight didn’t do much to cheer me up, but it didn’t depress me either. I was still worth something, to somebody. That moment snapped me back to reality, to
now
. Not tomorrow or next month, but this evening – which was still young – and all mine to make something of, if I so wished.

I got dressed again in an elegant party dress, a long green satin number with embroidered flowers and vines crawling up one side, and a hefty split as high as my hip on the other. And after half an hour fixing my hair and my face, I went downstairs to feel wanted, and be a part of something, once again – while I still could.

The place was busy, but not the fullest I’d ever seen it. Most of the Kits were hanging around the bar, with Gloria chatting up some youngster at a nearby table, and swinging her low-cut top in front of him every time she leant in to pick up her beer glass. I managed to turn a few heads as I crossed the floor to approach them, and was sure I heard someone mutter something about ‘Poison Ivy’ as I passed by. As it was, I had come rather overdressed, as Mel and Olivia were still lounging around in jeans (albeit very well-fitting ones) and Gloria was rocking out in a black leather jacket and leggings.

“Ah, so you’ve come back to join us,” Olivia smiled. “You always light this place up with your presence.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep for all the noise,” I said as I sat down. I scanned the crowd slowly and carefully, looking to see who might be worth a little investment of my time, when the doors opened and a woman in her late forties or early fifties walked in, dressed in a three-quarter length faux fur coat, looking curiously around herself as though searching for someone. I saw Mel stiffen and poke Gloria as the newcomer came closer and waited to be served.

“Oh my God,” Gloria squealed, “Trixie? Is that you?”

The older woman at the end of the bar hurried towards us and exchanged deep hugs with our one-time top girl.

“It’s me,” she said. “How the hell are
you
?”

“Hanging on, just about. For one more night.” Gloria grabbed my hand and drew me closer. “Hey, Phoenyx? This is Trixie. She was part of the furniture when I started; Mel’s predecessor. We used to call her our
Robin Redbreast
because when she sang, she’d get so emotional she’d blush bright red all the way down to her chest.”

“Great to meet you,” I said.

“Charmed, sweetie,” Trixie told me, and shook my hand. “Can’t wait to see you in action later.”

“So what’s new?” Mel asked. “C’mon, fill us in.”

Trixie turned back to Gloria. “Well, I finally got my op,” she went on, “I’ll be ten years as a real woman next year.”

“Oh wow. That’s so wonderful. How are you finding it?”

“Heh. I have ups and downs. But I’ve got the most gorgeous little Moroccan shoe salesman to help me through. We got married in San Francisco in ‘87. Nothing fancy – not even really planned or I would have had to fly all you hotties out there for the reception. No, it just felt the right thing to do. And we’re still together, all these years later, so I guess it really was a good move. Hell, he was even talking about adopting a child recently. I said, ‘Darling, I’ve got you – why do I want another kid running around the house and making a mess?’”

She sat down on a stool and looked across at the walls opposite, suddenly serious. “Horrible to hear about Petra. And that told me I had to come back here. I dropped everything and jumped on the first plane in. To say farewell to her again, and to check up on all the rest of you.”

“Ah, we’re doing okay,” Gloria sighed. “Older now, slower, a bit saggier. But deep down inside, we’re still the same bunch of ass-kicking hell-raisers you remember.”

“And you’ll always be, darling,” Trixie sighed. “Nothing will ever change that.”

Svetlana reappeared from the direction of the
Ladies’
and filled the bar with a whoop of joy, quite unlike anything I’d ever heard coming from her direction. Everybody heard it and looked around as the Russian shot into our midst with the speed and accuracy of a cruise missile and, with barely a whisper, picked up Trixie like a child and swung her around in her arms.

“Whoa...hey, take it easy there, Tsarina. I’m an old woman now, y’know.”

Svetlana replied with a loud smacking kiss on the lips. “I love your new look,” she said. “I told you you’d get there, Babushka. And I can’t believe I’m going to be on stage with you again after all this time.” She set Trixie back down on her stool again. “Sorry, I’m just so happy to see you again. I don’t cry much, not any more. But when I do…”

And she did, Svetlana’s face reddening and shining as though it had been polished. She angrily lashed a stream of tears away from her jaw.

Trixie smiled at the sight of the copious waterworks, and dried away the rest of it with the hem of her top. “Don’t apologies, dear. We’ll have to do some serious catching up.”

“Those two seem to have some happy history,” I said aside to Gloria as the chit-chat among the others went on.

“Well, yeah. Trixie rescued her from the streets. Nobody knows what happened to ‘Lana’s family back in Russia but somehow she ended up outside this place, and Trixie literally fell over her one day. Took her in, cared for her, and got her a job here. Oh yeah, Trix was mother and father to ‘Lana, that’s a fact.”

“You never told me that!” I squeaked.

Gloria shrugged, and smiled. “Well, Trix confided in me before she left the Klub. So only I ever knew the truth, since ‘Lana never liked to bring up her past.” She threw an admiring glance over the Russian’s robust frame. “And to look at her now, you’d never think that she was once a skinny little waif-thing in a torn cardigan.”

“I remember the day I danced on that stage wearing a cardigan,” I sighed with a glance over at the velvet curtains. “A handmade one at that. My mother’s birthday present to me when I was fourteen, because she couldn’t afford to buy me anything.”

“Was that for your audition?”

“Yeah. Well, when I say ‘danced’ – I mean, moved around like a buffalo with a wasp up its ass.”

Gloria laughed into her drink, spattering drops of dark froth onto the table.

“Well, I remember you when you started,” she said, serious again. “I remember seeing you on that first night, before you went on, and thinking: ‘I’ll give her a month’. And yet, you made it, baby. All the way to the very end.”