Ruby's Palace

by KERRY BARNES

  Sam opened the brandy bottle and downed a large glass. His mouth was dry from worry and his head ached from the traffic. He had driven to the estate himself and looked for Ruby. The sights he had seen had worried him even more; there were the dealers, half-hidden in the doorways of the flats, and then he had seen a gang of teenagers, hanging around in the park, even though it was chucking it down. When he had pulled over to ask a young woman directions, he’d been surprised to find she was a street girl touting for business. Of course he was used to seeing this, as he owned a London nightclub, but he was taken aback to see it on a council estate. He imagined his daughter being dragged into the alleyways and beaten up, mugged – or worse, raped. The relief was enormous in the knowledge that his naive, little girl was here, safe in her bedroom.

  Thoughts had crossed his mind that maybe Jesse had changed her ways and sorted herself out. In which case, Ruby might have met with a woman she could have looked up to. He snapped the idea out of his head. It wasn’t only his sister who kept an ear to the ground. He had too. It was common knowledge Jesse was still on drugs, and he’d also heard she was selling her body for money. He believed that after meeting her mother, Ruby would be back with her tail between her legs. His daughter detested everything that looked ‘gross’, as she would put it. She might have been an untidy mare at times, especially lately, but she couldn’t handle filth. Any programmes on the TV which showed vulgarity, she switched off. Ruby was at the age where appearances were a major factor in her life and she would make comments like ‘err, minging’ or ‘get a life’. Even Jack thought she was too hard, especially when Ruby was rude to her friends and to one in particular, called Heidi. A very pretty girl, she was cursed with the dreaded spot outbreak, and could be clear one day and covered the next. When she was smothered, Ruby wouldn’t sit next to her at lunch time. She said it put her off her food.

  Sam sat heavily on the sofa and chortled to himself. Ruby must have had a shock when she walked around that estate. What a shit-hole. If Jesse was half as bad as everyone said she was, his daughter would have spun on her heels and legged it home. He laughed out loud.

  “What’s so funny, Dad?” asked Jack, who had just got off the phone from ordering a curry takeaway.

  “Just imagine the look on Ruby’s face when she first set eyes on Jesse. She must have nearly puked, you know what she’s like.” He was doubled over laughing now and Jack was joining in. It was the relief she was home that heightened their mood.

  Sam imitated his daughter’s voice. “‘Err, me muvver’s a minger.”

  Both men were hysterical when Ruby entered the room.

  “What you laughing at?” She hadn’t heard what they had been saying, just the chuckling. They stopped instantly. Sam ignored her question and got up to greet his daughter. He hugged her and she hugged him back. That didn’t feel strange. She had a natural affection for her dad. She loved him very much. With her mother it was different. Perhaps she was expecting too much too soon. Besides, it had only been their first meeting. She had gone over the day’s events on the way home on the train and concluded it was good to have a mum you could talk openly with about anything; subjects she could never talk with her father about, such as sex, fights, and smoking puff. Her mother understood her way more than her dad did. She didn’t mind talking about boyfriends – and she felt more at ease discussing the more taboo areas, such as the times when she would enjoy a spliff or try ecstasy with her mates. Her mother had shown interest when she spoke of her triumphant fighting victories, and she’d enjoyed the pat on the back for it. It was always Jack who got the fuss when he had won his fights. Fair enough, they were in the ring, but her dad and uncles always gave her a hard time when she got rucking.

  She asked her dad again, “So, what were you laughing at?”

  “Nothing, Rubes.” He shrugged it off. “Now then, where have you been? I was worried sick, not being able to contact you. When I cough up over a hundred quid for a phone, make sure I can get hold of you on it, yeah?”

  Ruby stood back and rolled her eyes. He was off again, moaning.

  “My battery is flat and I told you where I was going.”

  He was silent for a moment as he stared at her. “Did you see Jesse?” His tone had changed and he was cold and distant. She nodded.

  Jack left the room. He didn’t want to hear anymore.

  “And was everything all right?” What he wanted to say was, ‘Still on drugs, is she? Still selling her arse, is she? Still a selfish bitch, is she?’ But he didn’t.

  Ruby nodded again. She wasn’t going to discuss it with him. She wanted her relationship with her mother to be separate from her father. The Vincents had secrets – and now she did too.

  Chapter Six

  The second open night at Dan’s Palace was heaving with customers, and Fred was on hand as promised. Sam again asked Sid to manage his bar, which allowed him to help out. There were always teething problems with any new club and, until this one was firmly established, Dan and his brothers would be a little on edge. The pole dancers were the main attraction and, as the night went on, their popularity increased. The gambling segment was partitioned off for a more serious clientele than the stripper audience.

  His staff, especially the girls, were more or less handpicked by Dan. Impressed with their positive attitude and flirting skills, they were worth their weight in gold. He had sold more bottles of champagne in two nights than he had in a month at Sam’s Palace.

  Sergio, Francesca’s husband, had taught him enough to make sure that the new Palace was a good money-maker.

  Dan and Fred surveyed the club. They made sure that everyone was in their place and the bar was stocked to the brim. All the girls were heavily made-up, with their nails manicured, and they wore skimpy dresses. Flawless. The men had their hair fashionably styled and their shirts crisp. Coloured lights danced around the room as the music played. Bouncers were positioned in every corner, croupiers were at the ready to deal, and the strippers were knocking back the brandy for confidence.

  “Who is on the door?” asked Fred, remembering the cocky doorman from last week.

  “I don’t know, I left John in charge, but I have warned him, no pikeys.”

  “I’m gonna go on security for a while. Keep an eye on them. I don’t trust that fucker Farley.”

  Dan nodded, pleased his sidekick was back and ready for action. Fred, being lively and quick-witted, kept Dan amused. He trusted him to sniff out trouble a mile away.

  As Fred opened the main doors, he was taken aback by the amount of people waiting to come in. Then he clocked Farley, talking to one man in the queue. It was hard to see who but, as Farley turned to face the entrance, he jumped when he saw Fred standing there.

  He headed back to the door with the cheesiest grin across his face.

  “All right, guv, so what’s happening then? You on the door with me tonight?”

  Fred cringed at the voice; he was a pikey through and through. He didn’t answer his question.

  “Who was that fella you were talking to?” asked Fred accusingly.

  “Oh yeah, just one of me old mates from school.”

  Fred hated lies. Gypsies never went to school.

  “So then, Fred, ready for the rush are ya?” Farley was excitable and hopped around. He didn’t look at all like a standard doorman. He was so unlike the other strong, beefy and calm men working there. Fred ignored his question and instead sized him up and down.

  Farley realised he was on the go – fidgeting constantly. It must have been the small toot he’d had earlier.

  “You’d better be clean, or you are gone!” said Fred in an icy voice.

  “Of course, mate, it goes without saying.” He knew he needed to keep Fred on side. He couldn’t afford to get elbowed right now.

  “Stand still and show the customers respect, except any gypsies. No excuses, do what you have to, but they ain’t coming in, got it?” Fred was acting the governor now.

  “So are you the boss,
or what?”

  He took umbrage at Farley and Farley knew it.

  “Of course I’m your fucking boss!”

  “Look, sorry mate, I only meant, who do I go to if there’s a problem?”

  “It ain’t that difficult. You just take direction from any one of us Vincents and, when we are not around, you listen to John who, I hope, has told you what your fucking job is.”

  Farley was nodding. “Oh yeah, guv, I know what I’m doing.”

  “Well, stop dancing like a fairy. Stand like a doorman, and less lip.”

  Farley had hoped that Fred would warm to him but it wasn’t happening. Then again, the Vincents weren’t in the habit of trusting outsiders. Farley’s job was to get at least one of the Vincents in his pocket, but they stuck together like glue. No chance of spreading a Chinese whisper or turning one against the other.

  The doors officially opened and in they came, two by two. The bags were checked and the youngsters had their IDs verified. Fred wanted no mistakes, no underage drinking, and no weapons, even if it held up the queue. He watched as two travellers approached. They were smartly dressed but not enough to disguise who they were. He kept a close eye on Farley. The men were frisked but, luckily for him, they weren’t wearing a tie.

  “Sorry, boys, can’t let you in. Strict dress code!” He looked over at Fred, who made no bones about the fact he was watching Farley.

  The two travellers knew Farley well. They lived on the same site as his mother. They pulled out ties from their suit pockets and began to put them on. Farley was now shuffling uncomfortably. He had to get rid of them but anticipated a row. Fred was still staring, waiting for Farley to step up, but what excuse did he have? He looked at the wrinkled ties and he found grounds for refusing entry.

  “Sorry, boys, they are creased. Strict dress code!”

  One gypsy, a twenty-three-year old called Noah and built like Noah’s ark, took offence. The worst of it was, he had been snubbed by his own kind.

  He sized up the other doormen, four in total, and decided not to argue but walk away. The other gypsy followed Noah in silence.

  “The fucking little ponce, I’ll not forget that one, Ash. When that little cokehead, Farley, comes visiting his dear mother, then I’ll fucking ‘ave ‘im. On me mother’s eyesight, I’ll ‘ave him.” Noah was a real Romany. If you weren’t a gypsy, his accent was hard to understand. He grew up on the Kent site, living with his mother Mary Anne and his brothers, but often came over to London to stay with his Aunty Lacy who had moved after she’d got married. Getting wed was not done in a church. It was running off together and jumping the broomstick. Then it was a lifelong commitment.

  Noah, big enough in the prize fighting scene, had a reputation, and planned to have his next fight with Farley on the Kent site – for all to see what would happen when you disrespected your own kind.

  Fred grinned. He knew who Noah was and guessed Farley was in for a beating, but what he didn’t realise was that it was worth it to Farley just to get in with the Vincents. There was so much to be earned in the clubs and they needed to be in there to take it. Either that, or get it closed down and taken over by the Nappers.

  Kizzy, the stripper, walked around to the back door. Her hair was piled high with sequins glued in and her face was heavily made up. Fred saw her from the corner of his eye but, before he got to her, she was through the door and heading for the changing room. He wanted to stop her. It was an uneasy feeling, having a traveller in the club. But he decided to see how much money she could bring in, and most importantly, if she was worth the risk. Cassandra was checking the bottles and glasses just before the mad rush.

  “Hello, Cassie, how’s my long-legged beauty?” Fred laughed. He was always kind to Cassandra. He had known her for years. She was the most loyal member of staff and he knew she was totally in love with Dan.

  “It’s good to see you and Dan together again. I think he has been a bit lost without you,” she said freely. She could always be open and chatty with Fred, but she clamped up when it came to Dan.

  “Cass, I know you do a brilliant job running the bar, but do you think you could look after the girls?” He pointed to the pole.

  Cassandra was gutted. She thought he was asking her to leave the bar and manage the strippers.

  “Look, only for a short time. I’ll tell you why. See that girl with the long, black hair, a youngster by the name of Kizzy?” She nodded, knowing exactly who he meant. Kizzy had been eyeing up Dan and making no attempt to be subtle. She was out to have him herself, or so she thought, and so Cassandra had taken an interest.

  “Yeah, I know the little slut!”

  Fred took a step back. “Not keen on her, then?” he laughed.

  “No, struts around she does, thinks she fucking owns the joint, winking at Dan. As if he is going to be sucked in by a two-bit of brass.”

  Fred didn’t like the sound of it.

  “Well then, Cass, I guess you will enjoy being her boss for a while until I find out what the fuck she is up to.”

  Cassandra was flattered. It was the first time she’d felt included in the Vincents’ business. She had always been part of the club, but only so far as managing the bars. They never discussed plans or concerns with anyone except their own.

  “Well, I’ll keep an eye on her, that’s for sure, but who will run the bar?” She loved her job and hoped it wasn’t handed over to someone else.

  Fred grabbed her hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll sort that, and it’s not a long-term thing. I need the strippers watched. I don’t trust that Kizzy.”

  Cassandra nodded and, with great pride, she introduced herself to the girls, explaining she would be managing them. She glared at Kizzy and then questioned her age.

  Kizzy rolled her eyes. “I already showed Dan me ID, all right?” she said with a gypsy accent. Leaning on the wall, chewing gum, she showed she didn’t want to take orders from Cassandra. Her cousin had stipulated, ‘Take no shit off anyone, just work your charms on Dan Vincent’.

  Fred walked into the changing room to find Cassandra laying down the rules. Two of the strippers, ex-circuit girls, tutted in annoyance at the way he’d just entered without knocking. He sized them up right away. “Listen, girls, you’ve had your first night with no manager, and you have all tasted the water, to see if Dan’s Palace is for you. If you like it, great, as long as we like you!” He emphasised the word ‘you’ enough to put the girls on their guard.

  He pointed to the two girls who had tutted. “If you think you have any privacy here, then think again. The only people in the club who have that luxury are the owners and your manager, Cassandra!” He smiled at Cassie, who was beaming with pride. Not only was this the second time he had treated her as part of the family, demanding respect from the girls, but she now saw herself as having greater status in the club.

  “So, no fucking lip, no trying it on with management. You stick to flashing your ass, tits, and eyelashes at the punters!”

  That comment was aimed at Kizzy and she knew it. Cassandra had obviously said something.

  “And, by the way, any funny business and she will fire your arse. Plenty more girls where you lot came from.” He was nodding at Cassandra.

  As soon as he left the room, there was a silence.

  “So, like I said, Kizzy, how old are you?”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, what is it with you? I told you I already showed Dan me ID.”

  “I didn’t ask you if you have ID, I asked how old you are, and it’s Mr Vincent to you. You heard Fred, clear as day.” Cassandra’s voice was hard.

  Kizzy frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Your job is to dance that fucking pole and remember your place. Don’t get familiar with the Vincents, that’s what he was saying. Now then, I’ll ask you again. What’s your fucking age?” Cassandra was a tall woman and could look vicious when she was annoyed. Kizzy knew, then, she was getting too big for her boots.

  “I’m twenty-two.”

  “Well, so we
don’t get nabbed by the Old Bill, because you look under age, you’d better give me your ID. I will have it checked out, and then no one can shut us down over a silly mistake like you, eh?”

  Kizzy swallowed hard. She had to keep this job at the club because if she got booted out the plan would be fucked.

  “All right, I’ll fetch it with me next week!” She tried to sound sweet but it wasn’t working. “On me muvver’s life, I’ll ‘ave it Saturday!”

  Cassandra nodded. She felt she had put Kizzy well and truly in her place.

  The other girls had thought they were special, until Fred had just burst in without knocking first. Just like the other clubs, they were to be treated as whores. But they would not complain; the money was good, the club was clean and fresh, the punters were younger, and the tips were plentiful.

  Kizzy looked around the room, her stomach in knots. She was young, but this was the life she aspired to. She couldn’t have hoped to get a classier club to flash her assets. The dressing room was adorned with mirrors which lit up, the chairs were pink leather, and the floor had soft carpet. She had seen the inside of other strip clubs and you were lucky if you had a dirty toilet to get changed in. As she did the splits up the pole the punters cheered, and each of them slipped a twenty in her knicker elastic. She was blessed with a fantastic figure. At fifteen, her breasts were huge and her arse neat. With a tiny, flat stomach and bronzed skin, she would be the main attraction, and the other girls knew it. But, tonight, she was nervous, as the thought of losing her job made her feel sick.

  “What’s up, Kiz, you look worried about something?” mocked Cassandra.

  “Nah, I’m all right. You know how it is, before you get on that pole. The nerves get to you.” Kizzy was being careful.

  “No, actually, I don’t know what it’s like. I’ve never lowered myself!”

  Kizzy looked down. She knew she didn’t stand a chance with Cassandra. It was over and done with unless one of her cousins could find her a better ID – this time a fool-proof one. She put the worry behind her and straightened her tassels.