Stilettos & Stubble (12 page)

I returned from
showing Diana the door to find Tom still in the same position with a hazy
expression on his face.  I walked directly to him and clicked my fingers in
front of his eyes, saying, ‘And … you’re back in the room!’

Tom jumped and
looked at me, startled.  ‘Wha…?  What happened there?  Please don’t tell me I
just agreed to go out with her.  I didn’t, did I?’

I began to laugh
and shook my head in despair.  ‘You really are quite pathetic, do you know
that?  You just got totally hypnotised by a pair of hooters.  Serves you right
if she chews you up and spits you out.  You deserve everything you’ve got
coming!’

Tom frowned and
then downed his drink in one.  ‘Why didn’t you stop me, Perce?  She trapped me
and you sat back and watched it happen.’

‘Oh come off it! 
You were a lost cause at the first jiggle.  Typical bloody man.  Now get your
tongue back in and sod off home.  I need my beauty sleep.  We don’t all have
mesmerising mammaries to trap men with - some of us have to rely on our looks!’

He stood, albeit
a little shakily.  ‘Think I’ll leave the car here and walk home, Perce.  I’m
feeling a little on the woozy side.’

I opened the door
and pushed him out.  ‘No sympathy I’m afraid, Buddy.  The fresh air might do
you some good - failing that, have a nice cold shower when you get home. 
Night!’

I locked up and
made my way to the bathroom to clean my teeth, betting that Dopey Diana had
never flashed manky drawers at a man in her life.

As I did a final
rinse, I could feel myself flushing at the indignity of it once more.

Oh well, tomorrow
was another day and with any luck I’d wake up in the morning, find it was all a
bad dream and that the Booby Fairy had visited me too.

Boy, Diana was
good!

Chapter
Twelve

Sadly there was
no increased swelling in my pyjama top the following morning and my waking
thought was of ‘Knicker Gate.’  The offending items had been binned the
previous night and I promised myself a trip to M&S to stock up on some new
ones.

I heard my
mother’s voice once again ringing in my ears. 
‘Always wear nice panties,
Persephone.  If you get run over by a number 14 bus it’s not pleasant for the
ambulance men to see nasties.’

Only my mother
could consider her Rigby & Pellar’s whilst undergoing roadside mouth to
mouth.  Only she could call greying undies ‘
nasties’
!

Not wanting to dwell
on my tart of a mother, I went to the kitchen to feed my greedy cat and see if
Dad was up.  Another note was propped against a bag of fresh croissants on the
breakfast bar.

‘Morning! 
Wanted to get an early start.  Looking at three flats today.  Thought I might
pop into the club and see you and the gals tonight!  xx’

I guess I had to
be grateful for the fact that he seemed to have remained remarkably upbeat and,
as my hackles rose once more at the thought of my mother, my mobile signalled a
text.

And, speak of the
devil, it was from
her
.  The lying, cheating, cowbag of a mother who had
treated me like dirt and had now broken my father’s heart.

I was in two
minds as to whether I should open it but curiosity got the better of me and I
clicked on ‘read’.

‘Persephone. 
I have booked a table at Figaro’s for 1 today.  Be there.  We need to speak. 
Wear something nice.’

Grrrrr!  How
dare
she just assume that I could drop everything just to see her?  And why did she
have to tell me to wear ‘something nice’?  The spoiled brat in me wanted to
turn up in my pyjamas just to see the look of horror on her stupid Botoxed
face.

As I shovelled
croissant crumbs into my mouth and stared miserably out of the window, my only
saving grace was that I had a wardrobe full of new clothes to choose from.

But, deep down, I
knew that whatever I wore would be met by the disapproval in my mother’s
artificially lifted eyes.

*****

‘Persephone, that
top is very pretty on you but there’s no point in wearing nice clothes if you
don’t
carry
yourself properly.  Put your shoulders back, there’s a good
girl.’

My mother was
toying with a lettuce leaf and sipping on over-priced mineral water.  Her
recent ‘cosmetic aid’ and new man had encouraged her to go down the detox
route.  Just spending half an hour in her company had left me feeling so toxic I’d
defy any regime to ever rid me of my rising venom.

In the short time
I’d spent with her, she’d insulted my hair, told me I looked
tired/bloated/pre-menstrual and then almost had a ‘Tena Lady Moment’ when I
told her about my new job.

The only upside
was that, after her fillers and jabs, she was now totally unable to frown at me
- something she’d spent most of her life doing - and I found myself wondering
if she’d ever have needed ‘help’ if she hadn’t been so perpetually disappointed
in me.  Well serves her right.  Every line and wrinkle she’d acquired, she
deserved.

‘Now Persephone. 
I’d like you to come to supper on Saturday night.   You need to meet Nigel now
I’ve moved him in and if you come in your father’s car you can load up some
more of his crap and take it home with you.’  She pushed her plate of nibbled
lettuce away in disdain and studied her perfect cuticles before looking to me
for my response.  ‘Percy?  Saturday.  Eight o’clock.  OK?’

Not for one
second did she think that I’d say no.  Mother spoke, everyone jumped.  It was
just the way it had always been.  Well, I’d had enough.

Gesturing to the
waitress, I asked her to bring me a large glass of Merlot and a slice of their
delicious triple chocolate desert cake.  Within one sentence I’d pissed my
mother off.  A) she had to sit and watch me drink alcohol, which she was
clearly gagging for and B) she had to endure the embarrassment of the other
size zero customers wondering why she was allowing her HUGE daughter to eat
cake.

Ha!

As I sipped on my
wine and savoured every last mouthful of the delicious cake that I really
didn’t need, I fixed my mother with my bravest look and said, ‘No Mum.  No can
do.  I’m working Saturday night and, quite frankly, I have no desire to meet
Nigel anyway.’

Too elegant to
splutter, although coming very close, she swallowed her sip of water and replaced
the glass on the table.  ‘Work?  Oh for goodness sake, you don’t call that
work
do you?  Just take the bloody night off - no one will miss you.’

I wiped my mouth
with my serviette and picked up my bag.  ‘That’s where you’re wrong.  I
will
be missed and I don’t think you heard me properly.  Maybe your hearing’s
going.  I DO NOT WISH TO MEET NIGEL.’  I enunciated very slowly and clearly, as
if speaking to an elderly granny.  ‘Thanks for lunch but I really need to be
getting on.  By the way, the one piece of lettuce that you
did
manage to
introduce to your mouth has got stuck in your teeth.  I’d ask for a tooth pick
if I were you.’  And, with that, I threw my bag over my shoulder and left.

The picture of
her sitting in stunned silence as I looked back at her through the window was
priceless.

*****

Lady Ga-Garden
and Vi Geena had been driving us all mad with their constant digs and snipes.  It
had obviously become a habit that made it impossible for them to be civil to
one another.  At every available opportunity they’d commence another round of insults
which usually ended in slammed doors and mumbled expletives.

Lubov and Betty
La Muff were sitting quietly in the changing room playing a game of poker and
I’d just been introduced to another act, Ma Might, whose introductory tag line was,
‘You’ll either love me or hate me’.  Ma was ready for her act and perched on a
stool in the corner, knitting and humming.

I was relieved to
get to front of house just to get away from the tension backstage and I accosted
Annie when he eventually came through the door, just after seven.

‘Things are a lot
more peaceful around here on the nights that Lady and Vi aren’t in.  Do they
ever bloody stop?’ I asked as I tidied my desk and prepared for opening.

‘Yeah, it can get
a bit tiresome, Sugartits, but I have a cunning plan.  What are you doing after
the show tonight?  I think it might be time for a little soirée chez Annie and
Tittie’s.’

‘Well I’m not
doing anything but I don’t see how a party is going to stop those two
threatening to murder one another.’

Annie smiled and
gave me a little wink.  ‘Trust me.  It works every time.  They get a few
bevvies in them and by the end of the evening they’ll be bosom buddies.  Works
like a charm for a few months and then they’re at it again.’

I didn’t see why
they just couldn’t be more tolerant of one another all of the time.  It seemed
such a waste of energy and I voiced this to Annie.

‘I totally agree,
Hun, but it’s just the way they are.  Now I’m off to let the girls know and
I’ll do the rounds later and see if a few of the regulars want to pop along -
the more the merrier, eh?  Yeah, I’m just in the mood for a little
partay. 
It’ll
do us all good.’

Annie left me
alone in reception and, as I was already organised for the night ahead, I stuck
my USB key into the club’s computer and copied my novel across to it.  I’d
decided to use the quiet times during the evenings to try to knock
‘Love,
Lust and Lies’
into some sort of shape so that it didn’t have quite so much
of the ‘cringe factor’.

I still had
almost an hour until opening time so I settled back and opened
Chapter One.

Mia had a point. 
On reading through, Marco sounded more like a sleazy, greasy, bum-pinching
Italian stud than a hunky, romantic love interest.  And my heroine was just a
wet, one-dimensional bimbo who spent her life sobbing, simpering and sighing. 
I don’t know what I’d been thinking but there was really no way I could work
with what I’d written.  I’d
have
to start again.

Ten years!
  I’d spent a decade of my life trying to create a love story that
people would want to read and it was a pile of steaming crap - there really was
no other way of describing it.  I threw myself back in the chair, closing my
eyes and rubbing my aching shoulders.  I suddenly became aware of somebody
standing behind me and leaning over the back of my gilt throne.

‘Oooer, what’s
this missus?  ‘
He kissed her swollen lips and ran his hands along her
elegant spine.  She felt herself dissolve, become liquid at his touch.’ 
Wow,
steamy stuff, eh?  Did you write it, Doll?’

I turned to see
Tittie in all his finery, eyes gleaming and ready for the goss.  Quickly,
clicking away from the open document, I felt myself colouring as I answered
unsteadily.  ‘Yes.  Yes … I  did but … well, it’s absolute shit, Tittie. 
Please
don’t tell anyone about it.  It’s just a silly little hobby really, nothing
else.’

He rested his
hand on my shoulder.  ‘Don’t put yourself down, Perce.  It looked great to me. 
I love a cheesy romance - nothing like a good old laugh is there?

Sighing wearily I
did my best to paste on a cheery smile.  ‘That’s right Tittie, nothing like a
good old laugh.’

That was it.  The
decision was made.  My writer’s dream was over and, once again, I was ‘Funny Old
Perce’.

*****

Annie left the
club early to get back to his and Tittie’s flat and prepare it for the party.  By
the time I arrived with the rest of the queens, the huge kitchen table was
laden with drinks and delicious looking food, smoky jazz was playing in the
background and the lights were low with flickering candles.

I made my way to
their loo for a quick freshen up and was delighted to see that I was still looking
pretty good after a long night at the club.  Tittie had supplied me with a
glorious heavy jersey dress in the deepest midnight blue.  It gave me curves I
quite simply never knew I had and did a fab job of picking out the colour in my
eyes.

After a quick dab
of lip gloss and a ‘zhoosh’ of my hair (my new found talent as taught to me by
Tittie!), I found my way back to the kitchen and helped myself to a drink. 
Turning to talk to Lady, in the vain hope that it would stop him striking up a
spat with Vi, I was astonished to see my father standing in the corner deep in
conversation with Lubov.

‘Daddy?’  I went
to join them at the window. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’  I kissed him
on the cheek and smiled at Lubov.  ‘I mean it’s great to see you but …’

Dad laughed and
looked a little uncomfortable.  ‘Yeah sorry about this, Perce.  Not enough that
you have to
live
with your old dad, is it?  He has to go muscling in on
your social life as well.’  He put his hand on my arm. ‘Hope you don’t mind,
love, it’s just I was over the road at ‘The Queen’s Head’ having a drink with a
few of the locals and, as I left, I bumped into Lubov and a couple of the
others.  They invited me along.  Not in your way, am I?’

‘Course you’re
not.  Don’t be silly - it’s great that you’re getting out and about and, if I
know Annie and Tittie, this should be a great night.’  I sipped my drink and
found myself thinking how weird it was that my dad had become part of the gay
and drag scene.  There he was, looking perfectly comfortable in his
surroundings, chatting happily away to the mysterious Lubov who looked as
stunning as ever, even in the drab shapeless garb he insisted on wearing when
not in full drag.