Shona Jackson- The Complete Trilogy

by Vicky Jones

  Standing at the bar, two of Frank’s girls were waiting for their next customer. As Lucy passed them on her way to the restroom, they noticed something in her demeanor that the rest of the bar had missed.

  “What the hell’s up with Lucy? She gets access to all the high cotton that come into this bar every night just ‘cos she’s new, and still looks so darn miserable,” one girl drawled to the other, then sipped her drink through a straw so as not to ruin her thickly applied bright red lipstick.

  “Frank’ll be spittin’ fire at her later too unless she gets at least twenny bucks out of that guy tonight… And when Frank’s not happy, we all suffer,” the other girl replied, rolling her eyes, then glaring at the restroom door.

  “Back in a minute, Joanie. Watch my drink and if my seven o’clock comes in, come get me.”

  “Where’s Lucy?” Frank hissed at Joanie, suddenly appearing behind her. She pointed to the restroom door, then turned her attention back to the cute young hustler who’d just approached holding two whiskey sours.

  Frank stood for a few moments listening to the young man’s opening lines. Unimpressed, he then turned back to Joanie, who was now draining her drink and laughing as the young man did the same. Leaning over, he grabbed her by the elbow and started to lead her away. The young man’s cocky smile dropped. He slammed the empty glasses on the bar and caught up to Frank.

  “Hey, come on Frank, I was only talking to her,” he protested.

  “Oh yeah?” Frank spun around, almost nose-to-nose with him. “Well, look at you. Pretty boy Bobby, star of the football field, gettin’ too big for his britches. I’d shut your yapper if I were you. Put your lil’ boy hand deeper in your pocket and find me at least a Lincoln greenback before you talk to one of my girls again.” He tapped Bobby’s clean-shaven cheek. Knowing only too well that it wasn’t wise to protest, Bobby backed off. Straightening his smart plaid button down shirt, he grabbed his jacket and stormed off.

  Frank tightened his grip around Joanie’s thin, white arm and led her over to a group of rowdy older men sitting at the booth in the corner, empty glasses and bottles of bourbon littering their table.

  “Who the hell gave you permission to pick your own customers? You do as I say, you got me?” he growled in her ear as they crossed the floor to the booth.

  Joanie creased her face at the drunken cheers that greeted her. Faking a smile, she smoothed down the sequins on her skirt and glared at Frank’s back as he marched over to the restroom door.

  “I wish he wouldn’t talk to you like that, really gets my goat,” Norm whispered in Joanie’s ear through gritted teeth as he laid another tray of drinks down on the table for the group.

  “Yeah, I know, but he’s the boss around here. But thank you for always lookin’ out for me, Norm. It’s nice to know there’s at least one gentleman around here,” she whispered back.

  Lucy sat on the toilet holding her spinning head in her hands as she bent forward, then raked her long red fingernails through her backcombed hair. Staring down at the small pool of toilet water that had collected around the leaking cistern, she sat on the cracked edge of the seat. Floating within the puddle was the latest chip of ceramic from the grimy toilet bowl. Lucy’s hopes for a bright future seemed to be drifting further away from her with every sordid dance she gave. She was snatched from her daydream by a pounding on the stall door.

  “Hey girl, you in there? Lucy?”

  Lucy opened the door to see Trish leaning against the frame half-smiling at her. Her bouncy red curls were pinned on one side of her head by a silver hair clip, her mouth bright red from thickly applied lipstick.

  “Hey Trish, I’m sorry, I just needed a minute to set myself right. I’m not used to all o’this yet,” Lucy said, blowing out her cheeks. She walked past Trish and over to the sink and leaned her slender body against the wall, cooling her flushed skin on the cold tiles. “It’s busy out there, ain’t it?”

  Trish stood with her arms folded. “Look, what the hell is wrong with you? Me and the rest of the girls are getting a little bored of your ‘poor little rich girl’ drama. You’ve had all the good gigs since you started to work for Frank and you’re still getting all uppity about it. Do you know how much we all wish that Frank protected us in the same way he did you?” she said, keeping her voice low.

  “Good gigs? Trish, we’ve all been getting an equal share of the shit that walks into this place. I could be so much more than…” Lucy stopped mid-sentence when she saw Trish’s face darken.

  “Go on, finish what you're going to say,” Trish said. “You really do think your shit don’t stink, don’t you? Well, not all of us were lucky enough to grow up with a rich mommy and daddy. You had everything back home, then you choose to leave and come here. Why the hell did you do that, huh? Are you crazy or something?” She stared at Lucy in disbelief. “You roll into town and fall in love with a guy you meet at a bus station, then let him sell you some two-bit dream that you’d make a million dollars with this place one day. Are you kidding me? The only thing you’ll make here is a few dollars stuffed up your skirt and whole load of bad choices.” She walked over to Lucy, pointing her finger at her. “You go around this place wanting us to feel sorry for you, but the only folks I feel sorry for are your parents. You chose to feed them some bullshit story about how well you’re doing at college. Your first week back after the holidays and you’ve been, what, once this week? If that. And it’s already Wednesday. Just so they don’t rat you out to mommy and daddy. So why don’t you do us all a favor, paint a smile on that pretty lil’ face of yours and stop pretending you’re so much better than all of us out there.” Trish pressed her face into Lucy’s.

  Lucy flung herself forward and grabbed her. “You’re such a bitch, Trish. You’re just jealous that Frank loves me now instead of you,” she yelled, yanking on clumps of Trish’s hair and causing the clip to clatter to the ground.

  “Get your mitts off me!” Trish shrieked, wriggling in Lucy’s tight grasp.

  The restroom door burst open and a pair of strong, grubby hands grabbed Lucy’s wrists and slammed her up against the tiled wall.

  “What in the goddamn hell are you doin’?” Frank’s eyes flashed with rage as his fingernails dug into her delicate skin. Seeing him distracted, Trish slipped past them both. She was inches from the doorway when Frank turned to face her.

  “And you. How many times have I told you, I don’t want to hear my girls arguin’, even in private? It tightens you up and those guys out there are payin’ good money for a hassle-free night. Now, get the fuck out there and make me some money.”

  Trish nodded.

  “Oh, and if I see you upsettin’ my girl again, I’ll snap your goddamn neck, y’hear me?” Frank hissed.

  Swallowing hard, Trish lowered her eyes.

  “Trish, I’m sorry,” Lucy whispered, her wrists still being held above her head.

  “Don’t sweat it, girl. We all got a cross to bear.” Trish smoothed down her messed up hair, bent down to pick up her clip and slipped through the door which closed behind her.

  Frank let go of Lucy’s wrists. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

  “I was just powdering my nose. I wasn’t meaning to get in a fight with Trish. Please, Frank, don’t be angry with me.” Lucy felt the tears fill her eyes once again as she rubbed her chafed wrists.

  “OK. Look, I’m sorry I grabbed you. I thought she was gon’ hurt you. I can’t have that happen.” He ran his hand through his thick black hair. “I just want you to clean yourself up and make yourself look worth the money those high-rollers out there are gon’ pay for you to entertain them,” he whispered, stroking her face with the back of his index finger.

  “Whatever you say, Frank.”

  “That’s my girl. You know that, don’t you? You’re my girl, my best girl.” Frank kissed her on the cheek. “Now, go freshen up. I got a good one waitin’ out by the bar to talk to you. Real smart guy, real high-flyer. Just make sure you loosen up this
time. I don’t want any more complaints about how you ain’t laughin’ at his jokes or nothin’.” He waited to see her nod, then walked towards the restroom door. “Say, how ‘bouts I give you a little somethin’ later, just to steady your nerves? Would you like that, honey?”

  Lucy nodded.

  “Well, alright then. Be out in five minutes, OK?” Frank pushed open the restroom door and disappeared from Lucy’s sight.

  Wiping her face on a threadbare, stained towel, Lucy stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was only supposed to dance. That was the agreement. But now, Frank was pushing her into doing more. With no words to describe the hollow shell of the person staring back, she splashed her cheeks with cold water, reapplied her lipstick and heaved a huge intake of breath into her lungs.

  “Honey, come sit with me over here,” Frank said as Lucy wandered into the apartment they shared above the bar. Sitting on the sofa next to him was the guy she’d been chatted up by downstairs earlier.

  “I think I’m gonna go lie down, Frank, my head don’t feel too good. Feels a little fuzzy again,” Lucy slurred.

  Frank got up and moved across the room to where Lucy was standing then gently led her back to the sofa. “Baby, Don just wants to chat with you. He wants to know more about what it’s like goin’ to college.” He leaned into her and whispered in her ear, “You’ll be OK. Just relax. Act like I showed you, OK? Do it for me?”

  “Yeah, sweetheart, I’m thinkin’ of goin’ myself. Frank here said you could give me some advice on how to apply,” Don added, licking his lips and watching her carefully. He was in his late thirties, round in the middle and wearing a bottle green button-down shirt and black slacks.

  “Alright,” Lucy said and swayed over to the sofa.

  “Well, I’ll leave you college nerds to it. I got a bit of business to see to. Take as long as you need,” Frank said. As he pulled open the door, he looked over at Don and winked.

  Halfway down the internal staircase to the bar area, Frank passed Chuck on his way up.

  “Keep an eye on her, Chuck. It’s her first one,” he whispered in the big man’s ear.

  “Sure thing, boss,” Chuck agreed and carried on up the staircase.

  There were thirty-nine star patterns in total on the dirty gray strips of peeling wallpaper in the room above the bar, thirty-nine and a half if you counted the ripped one in the corner by the air vent. It was difficult to tell as they were all in and out of her focus.

  It couldn’t be long now; he’d been hammering away at it for ages.

  Every few seconds or so, Lucy flashed a half-smile to Don, who grinned back as he thrust himself deeper into her. Finally, he flopped his sweaty, spent body down on top of her, breathing heavily into her ear as he regaled her with how amazing she was. Lucy nodded and tapped him on the shoulder, hinting to him that it was time to go. Grinning, he stood up and dressed as quickly as he’d torn his clothes off, then reached into his wallet to settle up.

  “Here you go. And here’s another $5 for the other stuff you let me do. Frank was right about you.” His voice sounded like Lucy was hearing his words through water, his smirk unmistakable as he dropped the cash on the bedside table and closed the door behind him.

  The sound of his hacking cough had kept Trish awake for most of the five hours she’d been home since returning from her shift at the bar at 3 a.m. The tiny snuffle that came after every bout broke her heart. Then came the five minutes of wheezing and crying until the gurgling finally cleared. Her son’s lungs were only four years old, but they sounded like they belonged to someone from the trenches who’d barely survived a mustard gas attack.

  “It’s OK, baby, Momma’s been reading about this new treatment they’re trying out. I just gotta get a bit more money together and then, as long as the Lord is willing and the creek don’t rise, we’ll go get those lungs all cleaned out and you’ll be all better for a little bit. It won’t be long, but for now Momma’s gotta do it her way, OK?”

  Trish sat by her son’s bedside and pulled him up close to her, lying him face down on her chest. Slapping him on his back, she fought back the tears as he flinched from the impact, but she knew it was the only way to clear the mucus. After several slaps and one big gurgly cough, Tommy sat back and wiped the tears from his own eyes with the back of his tiny hand. Breathing deeply for a few moments, he smiled.

  “Don’t cry, Momma, it’s OK now,” he croaked.

  “You’re right. Silly me getting all upset. We got this, you and me. We can fight anything, right?” She leaned over him and kissed his clammy forehead, then tucked his arms underneath his blanket and patted his chest. “Are you high enough?” she asked, reaching up to his top pillow and adjusting it.

  “Yes, Momma.” He snuffled again, wiped his wet nose and closed his eyes.

  "I just wish… Well, never mind that now. You go to sleep, baby.”

  Trish kissed her son’s forehead again and listened for a few moments as his ragged breathing became steady and calm. Lifting her weary body from his little bed, she dragged her feet to his door and looked back at him one last time before clicking his light off.

  “He alright?” a gravelly voice sounded in the half-light of the hallway.

  “He is now,” Trish said to her mom, running her palm over her tired eyes.

  “I heard him while you were asleep. I gave him the… inhaler thing, and it seemed to settle him, but he started again.” Her watery eyes struggled to meet her daughter’s.

  “I told you before, you gotta clear the fluid as well. Like I showed you? The inhaler only works for a lil’ bit—”

  “You know I ain’t got the strength no more to do that. I do the best I can,” she interrupted, pausing to lick her dry lips. She swept a lock of lank brown hair away from her damp brow. “While you’re out at work until God knows what hour.”

  “I’m doing the best I can too, Mom… but business has slowed down a little since the holiday season ended. Some of the girls ain’t working as hard as they could be either and it’s causing issues. I had a word with Lucy tonight and I think it’ll get better.” Trish watched her mother’s eyes closely as they struggled to focus on her as she was speaking.

  “I wish I was well enough to work instead of you. Your place is here with Tommy. You know how that makes me feel to know you work in a… bar?” Her voice trailed off as she ran out of breath.

  Trish stared at her mother. “You had a drink today?” she whispered, leaning in to her.

  “No, I have not. You know I wouldn’t now, not with the boy in the house. You need to speak to that no-good father of his. It’s too much for you to do on your own. I won’t be around forever.” She stomped off down the hallway and into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Trish looked up at the peeling plaster on the ceiling. Frustrated, she let out a long exhale of breath. After two or three minutes of listening to her son’s gentle snoring, she made her way to her own bedroom and sank onto her bed in exhaustion.

  “I’ll get the best doctor for you, Tommy. I promise the Lord I will,” she whispered into the darkness.

  Chapter 10

  Lucy stood in front of the mirror that sat on her dressing table, trying to refocus her eyes on the mess that was staring back at her. Her eyes stung as she stroked the brush ineffectually over her tangled brown hair.

  “I know you’ll never forgive me now. For what I’ve done,” she whispered to the photograph that was snugly tucked inside the frame. A well-dressed middle-aged couple stared back at her, their perfect smiles frozen in time. Behind her, the door burst open and in walked Frank, large as life and grinning from ear to ear. Sloping up behind her, he grabbed Lucy around the waist and kissed her neck, his wet lips leaving trails of spit on her pale skin.

  “G’mornin’ beautiful. I just got off the phone to Don. He said he loved spendin’ time with you last night and you really cheered him up. Reckons he’d like to see you again. This is gonna help us out so much, darlin’. You a
re my angel.” Frank embraced her and nuzzled her neck. “God, I love how you smell after a night makin’ us lots of money. Really turns me on.”

  “No, Frank, I need to wash up. And I’m a little sore after last night—”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be real gentle,” Frank interrupted. He clasped his tight grip around her hand and led her to the bed.

  Gathering up a small pile of envelopes and wrapping the same old piece of yellow ribbon around them, Gloria Smith exhaled as she sat at her bureau leaning back in her wooden chair. Deep in thought, she pulled open the drawer and dropped the letters inside, then lingered a freshly manicured maroon fingernail on the little brass handle. She was in her early fifties, tall with thick bleached blonde hair.

  “Morning. I didn’t hear you get up. You OK, honey?” George asked, yawning and pulling his navy blue robe around himself as he walked into the living room. He was in his mid-fifties with dark brown hair already neatly combed in a parting to the side of his head. He looked down over the top of his horn-rimmed glasses at the inside of the open bureau drawer. “What are those? Love letters? Should I be worried?”

  Gloria looked up at her boyfriend and smiled, holding his attention as she closed the drawer. “Of course not, they’re just some old bills. You’re more than enough for me, darlin’.”

  “For a minute there I thought you’d finally had a letter from that husband of yours,” George replied.

  Gloria swept a strand of blonde hair away from her forehead and wiped her brow. “Ex-husband. Oh, we may not be divorced properly yet, but you’re my man now in all but name,” she replied, scratching the end of her nose. “It’s pretty much impossible to divorce a man who’s overseas. Especially when I ain’t heard from him in years. No, it’s Frank who receives the letters. His father’s always spinnin’ him some line about how it’ll ‘definitely be the next bus’ he’ll be on. Well, when his father can be bothered to write back to him, that is. Poor Frank junior falls for it every time.” She turned the little key in the lock of the drawer and pocketed it.