by Maggie Brown
Satisfied they’d gotten the message across, they lapsed into small talk until Pandora reluctantly stood up. “I must go. Lovely to see you again, Winter. I’ll try to have a quick word with the girls before you go. Enjoy the rest of the night.” As she turned, she called over her shoulder, “I’ll see you at the party.”
Kurt was already seated at the piano, fixing a sheet of music to his stand when she walked onto the stage. Dressed in grey pants, white shirt, a shiny grey waistcoat and red bowtie, he looked like he’d stepped out of a nineteen forties bar. “Are you doing a walkthrough tonight?” he asked over the top of the baby grand.
She inclined her head, more in resignation than enthusiasm. “Yuri wants me to, after the move was so successful last Saturday.”
“I’m guessing from your expression you’re not too keen to repeat it.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to. The idea was to put more variety into my act, but—” she paused briefly before she continued, “but I’m not sure about the crowd tonight, or more specifically, the men in Yuri’s alcove. From their loud comments during the first act, they sound like they’ve been drinking heavily.”
“Yeah. They’re lowering the tone of the place. It’s a wonder the boss doesn’t tell them to shut the hell up. He’s always usually quick to get the bouncers to toss people out. But I suppose being Boris’s friends makes it a bit hard.” He sent her a sympathetic look. “If he wants you to do it then I guess you haven’t an option, so all I can advise is to stick to the main area and don’t go near them.”
“I should be able to manage that,” she said with an easy smile, though it didn’t extend to her eyes. Her stomach was beginning to clench. If she got too close, she would be pawed at for sure. “I’ll limit it to one song and start up the other end of the room.”
He winked. “Good thinking. Now—ready?”
As Pandora sang through her repertoire, she couldn’t help regularly glancing over at Winter’s table. Probably too often, she admonished herself, but her eyes just kept going back there like a magnet. She hoped it wasn’t too obvious. But by the time she was nearing the last song, she had more pressing things to worry about. The gang in the alcove was getting progressively louder and cruder, and she had to steel herself to descend from the stage.
Come on, you’re a performer so act the part.
All right—she could do this. With a slow sway, she began the long walk, singing the love song in a low husky voice.
She stuck to her plan, cruising through the top and middle tables, stopping here and there to eat up the minutes. The noise level bumped up several decibels in the alcove, but she ignored them. As she reached the final lines of her song, she scanned the length of the bar and spied a group of six well-dressed men and women clustered around the far end. She glided towards them, timing the last words as she came abreast of the big-shouldered man in their centre. When she gave him a nod, he called out, “Care to join us?”
She stepped toward them with a wide smile to convey her enthusiasm. “I’d love to.”
The curvy brunette beside him gave a friendly little wave and moved to the side to fit her in. She looked to be in her late twenties, wearing a very stylish top-label cocktail dress.
With a breezy “Hi” to the group, Pandora entered their circle.
They crowded around, and soon the air was filled with the easy comradeship of people sharing a night out. Nothing heavy, just drinks and laughs.
Thirty minutes later, they were about to order another round when she heard a man’s voice behind her. “The boss wants you to entertain Boris and the boys, Pandora.”
She turned her head to look at him, though was well aware who had spoken: Eddie, the chief bouncer, a huge man with biceps the size of tennis balls and thighs like tree trunks. No one argued with him. When he jerked his head towards the end of the room, her heart sank.
Damn!
There was no hope of avoiding them now. With a shrug she nodded, but took her time saying goodbye to the partygoers before she walked through the room. As she neared the men, she could see they were very drunk. She helped herself to relax with slow breaths as she had been taught, beginning from the abdominal muscles and moving up. By the time she reached the top of her chest, she was calm enough to take in everything.
Yuri had vanished. Six hard men who looked like they would be perfectly at home in the criminal underworld sat with Boris in a semicircle of comfortable chairs. She quickly scanned the ceiling and walls of the small room, noting the absence of security cameras. If they closed the partition, she was on her own with them. She forced away the prickle of fear. The boss would have insisted they keep it open—she knew he wouldn’t be happy if something happened to his prized singer.
But the ripple of unease blossomed into dread when her gaze settled on Boris. For an awful moment, she realized she’d underestimated the situation. Something about him was different tonight. The Russian looked darker, more vicious. She had never liked his looks. No doubt some women would consider him handsome, but she thought him sinister. He was a tall man, wide shouldered, sinewy rather than muscular, with distinctive Slavic features: pale skin, deep-set blue eyes, a prominent forehead and high cheekbones. His dark brown hair was brushed back and stubble lined his square jaw.
“You took your fucking time coming over,” he growled.
“Excuse me? I’m mixing with the customers as Yuri expects me to, Boris, and I didn’t appreciate being ordered to come. Nor being sworn at. I’ll be happy to have a quick drink with you, but I won’t be staying long. If you’re after female company for the night then I suggest you look elsewhere. I’m sure there are plenty of women in the room who would welcome your attentions,” she replied, forcing a note of finality into the words.
He jabbed a finger at his lap. “Sit here.”
She sucked in a breath, readying herself for a quick exit. Immediately, her nostrils filled with the ripe stench of sweat and stale beer. She nearly gagged. “I won’t be sitting on your lap now or in the future. If that’s the only seat I’m to be offered then I’ll say goodnight.”
The others ceased their drunken chatter abruptly, silent as they watched intently. Her hands involuntarily clenched. Hunched forward in their seats, they stared at her like vultures waiting for the kill.
“I told you to sit,” he snarled.
She took a quick instinctive step in retreat. “Goodnight,” she said in a rush, anxious to be gone. It had been a long time since she found herself in a situation so completely out of her control. Boris was a far cry from the club’s customers who sometimes got overfriendly. A dangerous man.
But before she could move off, he sprang up suddenly and grasped her arm. With a swift tug, she tried to pull away. He shifted his grip so his fingers wrapped around her wrist, then yanked until her body jerked against him.
“Let go of me,” she ground out.
His grip tightened until she knew there would be bruises tomorrow. At any other place she would have retaliated with a hard knee to the groin, but they were in full view of the club. One of the men must have noticed some patrons were already looking their way, for he leapt up to close the partition. For the first time she felt a stab of real fear, pungent and sharp. Anything could happen once she was cut off from view—the men were too drunk to reason with.
She had no hope against so many.
Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of a woman in a knee-high dress appear beside her. Too intent on keeping her cool, and balance, she didn’t look around, that is until she heard the voice.
“Oh my, you are such a good-looking fella. I was saying to my friends that ya must be the handsomest man I’ve seen in years.”
Pandora stared in disbelief as Winter, waving a bottle of red wine in one hand, playfully swatted Boris’s hand that clutched her wrist, with the other. “Excuse me, honey,” she tittered, looking at her directly for the first time, “but I’d like to talk to handsome here.”
Clearly as surp
rised as Pandora, his grip loosened. She yanked her hand free. Winter stumbled awkwardly in front of her and a stream of red wine shot out of the bottle onto Pandora’s gown. “Oh, shit a brick, I am so sorry,” Winter squeaked. “Red wine is the hardest…the very hardest thing to get out.”
“Fuckity fuck,” Winter chanted as she wiped the dress with a tissue. “We’ve got to wash it immediately. Immediately. Here,” she said, thrusting the bottle of red at Boris, “hold this while I take her to the powder room.”
He took it, though looked like he would have preferred to hit her over the head with it. “I’m sure the dress will survive,” he snarled.
“Nonsense,” gasped Winter. “This gown would have cost a fortune. A fortune. My father’s a judge, and he always says that if people valued what they had, then the courts would have only half the people going through them.” She shot a look around the room. “You’d have to agree with the judge, wouldn’t ya, fellas.”
This was met with nervous stares.
“Now,” Winter said, firmly pulling Pandora towards the half-closed partition. “It’s going to take a while. Sorry I was so darn clumsy, honey. Ya look so nice in it too. I’ll have ya cleaned up in no time. No time at all.”
Bemused, Pandora allowed herself to be led out the room to the hallway that led to the toilets. “Is there a back way out of here?” Winter asked when they reached the ladies’ door.
“There’s an emergency exit further down the passageway past the dressing rooms.”
“Good. Let’s go then. I’ll text Jessie to bring the cab around the back. She ordered one when I went in.”
Pandora didn’t argue, content to let Winter take control. She felt completely washed out.
Chapter Nine
Winter fought the instinct to launch into full flight, instead led the way down the passageway at a quick walk so not to attract attention. Two women chatting in the passageway, barely gave them a glance. Once past the toilets, she picked up the pace. When the dressing rooms came into view, she groaned in frustration as Pandora dashed into one.
“I’ll only be a minute. I want my phone and purse,” she called out over her shoulder.
Every nerve in Winter’s body was jangling by the time Pandora reappeared. So keyed up, she squealed out a sharp squawk of relief when they rounded the last corner and the bright green exit sign came into view.
It was unbelievable how far her world had tilted on its axis in the last hour. She had become Alice down the rabbit hole: one moment having fun, the next running from thugs. The night had started off so well, with not a hint of the drama to come. As soon as they had entered the club, the festive atmosphere had enveloped them in such an exciting cocoon that they began partying immediately with lots of kidding, lots of fun.
Then Pandora had strode onto the stage, magnificent in a form-fitting sparkling red gown, and received Winter’s rapt attention, as well as that of every other person in the club. Starstruck, all Winter could do was blurt out, “Wow,” as a warm feeling spread through her body.
“I second that,” Jessie had murmured. “Damn, that dress is smokin’ hot.”
The instant Pandora had begun to sing, Winter was mesmerized. And the way she had kept glancing over at their table sent little shivers down her spine and her heart thumping. She had wondered if maybe her interest wasn’t so one-sided, that her attraction might be reciprocated. At the thought, she felt like she could almost believe in fairy tales again.
But that bubble had soon burst when Jessie had whispered in her ear smugly, “She can’t keep her eyes off me.”
A sharp twinge of jealousy hit—she could have stuck the swizzle stick into Jessie’s arm. She muttered back sharply, “She’s not like your usual flirts, Jess.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Pandora isn’t someone you can take to bed then discard like yesterday’s news. She’s got more substance than that. And deserves to be treated better.”
Jessie had narrowed her eyes. “Aren’t you the judgemental one. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were interested in her yourself.”
“Why wouldn’t I be interested? She’s nice.”
“Come off it. A hot lounge singer at a bar is hardly your type. You always go for the cold princesses who like prestige and money.”
Winter had bitten back a retort. This particular debate was an old one—she hated the casual way Jessie treated women, while Jessie hated Winter’s choice in partners. Especially Christine. “Shut up and listen to the music,” she’d grated out in a low voice.
“Huh!” came the snort in reply. Then after a moment there was a little snicker. “Well, well, Ms. I’m-so-fussy Carlyle. You think she’s very foxy, don’t you?”
She hadn’t answered, aware Jessie had known it was a rhetorical question.
Winter had sat back in her chair, trying to ignore Dana’s out of tune humming and Linda’s light touches on her thigh. After the next song, she’d glanced at her watch. Five minutes until Pandora’s break. If she wanted a place at the bar, she had to move before the interval rush. She’d stood up and said casually, “I’m going to get the next round. I need to stretch my legs.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Linda, half rising.
Winter had pushed her gently but firmly back into the chair. “I’ll be fine. I want to have a quiet word with Michael.”
“Okay. Just give me a wave if you want help carrying the drinks.”
She’d hoped Linda wasn’t watching, because she only gave Michael a cursory hello in passing before taking a spot at the bar diagonally opposite. It had been close enough for him to be within hearing distance. He’d glared at her, which she’d studiously ignored. Underneath though, she’d felt an overwhelming urge to grab him by the shirt and give him a good shake. To tell him to get a life, that he was a brainless idiot to be hanging around a place like this, pining after someone who had made it quite clear she wasn’t interested. Thankfully, he hadn’t said anything insulting and the situation defused when the bartender appeared to take her order.
“What’ll you have?” he’d asked impersonally.
After she’d called out the list, she changed her whisky sour order to a bottle of Shiraz. She could drink at her leisure then, rather than keep up with the rounds. “I’ll have a half-glass out of the bottle now, please,” she’d added.
At the whiff of the familiar perfume, she’d known Pandora had arrived. They had already decided how to play the scene this morning on the phone. And it had worked. It was quite clear Michael was listening to their conversation when she caught him staring intently at the mention of the party. When Pandora had returned to the stage, Winter turned to scan the area. People were two- and three-deep at the bar, jostling for drinks before the floor show began again. She’d swallowed the last mouthful of wine before she took the tray to the table.
Jessie had looked at her curiously as she settled onto her seat. “What were you talking to Pandora about?”
“I’ll tell you later. She’s about to start.”
“You’re always so secretive,” Jessie had said testily.
Amused, Winter sat back with a contented feeling. Just being able to talk to Pandora had brightened up her night even more. For the next half hour, she’d barely heard the others’ comments, losing the thread of conversation as the songs washed over her. Half-dazzled, she’d sat completely absorbed in the feminine grace of the woman on the stage.
But as the night had worn on, the crude hecklings from the men at the back soured her enjoyment. As they’d became more vocal, her indignation turned to real worry when Pandora descended the stage for a walk-through finale. Winter had watched her intently as she moved through the room, then blown out a relieved breath when she saw her join a crowd at the bar.
The relief was short lived when one of the men who had been on the door, approached Pandora and she’d followed him down the back.
Jessie must have been watching too, because she’d whispered urgently in Winter�
�s ear. “Pandora’s going to those bastards down the back. I hope she’ll be all right. They’re a mean-looking bunch and pretty hammered.”
Winter had craned her head to keep a clear sight line. “I know. But she is in full view of the room. Surely nothing can happen.”
“Just as long as they don’t shut it off.”
Winter had grabbed the bottle of wine. “Come on. Let’s get closer.” When the other two had begun to get to their feet, she shook her head. “Four of us will be too obvious.”
Jessie had looked at the bottle in amusement. “What do you intend doing with that? Hit them over the head with it?”
“I have a plan. Come on…let’s go.”
They had just reached the wall beside the alcove when tempers seemed to explode inside the small room. The man in the chair reared up and grabbed Pandora’s wrist. He’d pulled her against him while another began to slide the concertina door closed.
Jessie had clutched Winter’s arm to prevent her moving and growled in her ear, “I’ll go in.”
She’d brushed off the hand impatiently. “No. I’m going. Ring for a cab and tell it to hurry.” And with no more hesitation, she’d strode towards the alcove. She had never been more keyed up and petrified all at once. The group of men who had turned to stare at her looked like they belonged on the set of The Godfather.
* * *
When they barrelled through the heavy metal door Jessie was waiting as stiffly as a soldier on parade. Still wound up in a tight coil, Winter cast an eye nervously around the alleyway. It was steeped in shadows, the only light a weak glow from an overhead bulb some metres away. The large industrial bin on the other side of the steps smelt like a disused brewery mixed with something putrid. She was anxious to get as far away from the place as quickly as possible.
“The taxi will be here in a sec,” Jessie said, handing Winter her bag.
“Good. This alley is giving me the creeps,” Winter muttered. She looked back nervously at the door, half expecting the drunken men to burst through. Then quashing back her desire to bolt onto the street, she turned to study Pandora. “How are you feeling?”
