Avaline Saddlebags

by Netta Newbound

  “I hope so, or I’m out of a job.”

  “You’ll smash it. I wish I could hang around to watch, but I’m sure you’ll be back. You seem like a classy queen which makes a change for this dump.”

  “Are you not out for long?”

  “I’m working tomorrow morning so daren’t stay out all night or I’ll be late, and I’m already on a written warning for my poor timekeeping.”

  “What do you do?”

  “Nothing special I’m afraid–work in Charlie’s American Diner, but I’m on prep duty first thing.”

  “I could just eat a hotdog now, I’m starving.” I’d been so busy, I didn’t have a chance to eat.

  “Pop into the one by Lime Street station tomorrow and I’ll sort you out.”

  “That’s kind of you.”

  “Not at all, but excuse me a minute, I need to use the ladies. That rum has gone straight to my bladder.”

  Nineteen

  I spied Layla and Will sitting in the corner sipping their drinks. Apparently, they’d seen me already judging by their faces. They looked totally out of place. I pulled my phone out texted our group chat with one word, mingle and a minute later both were on their feet.

  Layla sent a WhatsApp message.

  Kids fighting.

  Sorry, gotta go.

  What a shame you’ll

  miss my act. LOL

  I know, gutted.

  I’m not – did you get

  any leads?

  Not much. I’ll

  email everything

  to you in the morning.

  Speak tomorrow

  I looked at the time–almost 11pm.

  There wasn’t long to go until show time. I ran through the routine in my head, desperate not to make an arse of myself.

  Kimberley had left for home a few minutes ago. I’d enjoyed her company.

  I watched with interest as Darren Wilkes stormed out of the club, a bouncer right behind him. Hopefully, Kimberley had hopped into a taxi and was well gone.

  Roy appeared, dressed as his alter ego, Betty Swallocks. I hadn’t seen him in full drag before, not in person anyway, but could tell it was him by his eyes alone. I was impressed; he certainly looked every inch the star.

  “Hiya, Avaline,” he said, sounding more effeminate than usual. “Are you ready to blow everyone’s panties off?”

  “I’m not sure about that.”

  “Just do what you did in your living room and you’ll have them eating out the palm of your hands.”

  “I’ve seen some of the others and they’re good.”

  “Same old, darling, same old. They do the exact routine every week which is why you being here has caused a trickle of excitement mixed with a shitload of resentment.”

  “Really.”

  “Oh, yes, the knives are already out and you haven’t done anything yet, but once they get a load of how natural a performer you are...”

  “Exactly what I didn’t want.”

  “The word is, you got the gig by sitting on poor old Blanche’s face after the audition.”

  I burst out laughing, the idea comical. “Is that how most of them get through?”

  “Perks of the job it seems. She promises the silly bitches stardom and they fall for it every single time.”

  “Sitting on Blanche’s face wouldn’t be much of a perk for me.”

  “Nor me, darling, but each to their own. The word is, she’s got a tongue like an electric whisk.” He looked at the dainty gold watch on his wrist.

  I shuddered at the thought of Blanche’s tongue anywhere near my arse. “Yeah, wish me luck.”

  “A star is born,” Roy said, waving his arms about. “Anyway, Saddlebags, you best get backstage and prepare yourself.”

  “Okay, I’m off. Are you waiting around for me?”

  “I’m not going to leave you in town looking like that am I?”

  “Thanks, Roy. I really appreciate everything you’ve done. If there’s ever anything I can do…”

  “Oh, don’t mention it.” He had a cunning smile across his face. “I may decide to call on you if I have problems casting this year’s panto.” He walked away leaving his threat hanging in the air.

  I turned to find Will. Layla was long gone, so he was flying solo. It didn’t take me long to spot him as he was busy chatting to a group of women on another table. I guessed they were Gina Elliot’s friends and hoped he’d glean some useful information, or tonight had been all for nothing.

  Twenty

  Rebecca curled up on the sofa, glad she hadn’t gone out after all. She rarely missed a Friday night at Dorothy’s—the social highlight of her week. But she just couldn’t be bothered tonight. Instead, she’d legged it down to the shop on the corner and bought a tub of Ben & Jerry’s Minter Wonderland ice cream, a huge bag of midget gems and a bottle of prosecco—heaven. Then she watched a few episodes of the Killing Eve box set on demand.

  At just after 11pm, she heard a strange, set-your-teeth-on-edge, sound. But being above a taxi rank on a Friday night was never going to be peaceful. Standing up, she peered from the window, but couldn’t see anything untoward.

  Since she was already on her feet, she ran upstairs for a pee and changed into her pink silk pyjamas, considering an early night—she had a big day on tomorrow. A dreaded visit to her mum, who she hadn’t spoken to for over six months. Rebecca had lived as a woman for eight years now, and although her mum didn’t like it, she seemed to accept her youngest child was now a woman but as soon as she’d told her she intended to have the op and make it official, her mum had hit the roof. She refused to answer her calls or have anything to do with her. But hopefully she’d mellowed by now. Rebecca’s brother had organised a birthday party for her mother’s sixtieth and she’d agreed Rebecca could be invited! Big of her. Rebecca didn’t have a clue which way it would go, but her brothers would be there for moral support. She doubted her mum would cause a scene in front of everyone.

  She heard that awful noise again—a screeching, metallic scraping sound she’d not heard before tonight. She couldn’t tell where it was coming from, so she headed back downstairs and once again peered from the living room window.

  A woman in a long red coat sat on the edge of the pavement opposite, her feet in the gutter, and she was yelling at someone beyond Rebecca’s view, although a man’s voice was yelling back. Were they playing around or was it a domestic in progress? She really didn’t want to know. It had taken her a long time to realise she couldn’t solve everybody’s problems and to mind her own business, but now she made an art-form of it.

  Heading to the kitchen for a cup of hot chocolate, she hoped it would settle her down. She suddenly laughed at herself. Her mother wouldn’t believe her if she told her tomorrow. Hot chocolate! On a Friday night? Yeah right! she’d say.

  Sprinkling the top of the frothy brown milk with cinnamon, she froze. That sound again, but it was closer this time. Peering from the small kitchen window, she gasped. The fire escape ladder from the top floor had been released and now went all the way down to the back alley.

  I stood in the darkness, hearing the chatter of the crowd behind the curtain.

  What would they make of me? I was terrified and could feel myself trembling.

  The DJ spoke, startling me. “Please give a warm welcome to Dorothy’s newest star, Miss Avaline Saddlebags.”

  I plastered a smile on my face as the curtains opened.

  The crowd clapped half-heartedly.

  The opening bars of the music kicked in. Let’s go girls…

  And I was away, prowling round the stage like I’d been doing it for years.

  I was lost in the music and gave it everything I had.

  Will stared open-mouthed, seemingly entranced his boss was strutting about on stage in a sequinned frock and sky-high wig. Any other time, I’d have laughed, but I went hell for leather, pointing at him, then blowing a kiss in his direction. That brought him to his senses and I imagined behind the flashing lights, his f
ace beetroot red.

  The crowd roared its approval with every kick of my heel or wave of my hand. It really was that easy despite the worry I’d go arse over tit and launch myself headfirst into the crowd. The heels were a bugger to dance in and I was looking forward to freeing my aching feet and squashed toes from their confinement once my performance was over with.

  Rebecca couldn’t believe it. How the hell had that happened? She’d lived there for almost a year and never even attempted to use the fire escape. What could’ve caused the ladder to unlock like that?

  Sighing, she trudged back upstairs, the last thing she wanted was any Tom, Dick or Harry climbing up and peering into her bedroom while she slept.

  Her blood ran cold and a whimper escaped her lips. The window at the top of the stairs was open, and the curtain blew in the breeze. Surely that hadn’t been like that ten minutes ago? Wouldn’t she have noticed it?

  She pulled the curtain across and climbed out onto the rickety iron cage-like structure and tried to pull the ladder back up, but it wouldn’t budge. She figured there must be a locking mechanism, but it was too dark to work it out. Climbing back inside, she closed and locked the window—totally freaked out.

  Heading back downstairs, she picked up the mug from the kitchen and took it through to the living room and curled up on the sofa.

  “Rupert?”

  She leaned forward and shoved the mug onto the coffee table and reached for the remote—turning the TV off. Was she hearing things? “Who’s there?”

  “Rupert?” The deep male voice sent chills up her spine, nobody had called her that for years.

  She squealed and grabbed one of the scatter cushions and held it up to her face as though she was watching a scary movie. What protection she thought it would give her, she had no clue.

  “Rupert?” The voice sounded closer this time, just outside the door on the landing.

  She lunged at the door and tried to slam it shut but something prevented it closing the whole way. “Fuck off! Whoever you are, just fuck the hell off! I’m calling the police.” As she said it she spied her phone still on the sofa.

  “I wouldn’t do that, Rupert.”

  A bang on the back of the door made her scream and she began to whimper and shake uncontrollably. Then the door was pushed inwards a few inches. The person was strong—far stronger than Rebecca was. “I don’t give a shit what you’d do. Get out of my home! What the hell do you want from me?”

  She felt herself sliding forward as the door opened slowly.

  Trying to get a grip was useless. The wooden floor and silk pyjamas made it even more difficult to gain purchase. She couldn’t hold the door any longer.

  Darting for her phone, she managed to press 9 twice before a blow to her right shoulder sent the phone flying through the air before landing with a crash and skittering across the floorboards.

  She screamed and turned, lashing out blindly at the intruder who was dressed from head to toe in black—all she could see was his manic brown eyes. “Who the fuck are you, and what do you want?”

  On full alert, she kept eye contact and stepped sideways, trying to get some distance between herself and her attacker. She darted to the other side of the coffee table. Reaching for the half-empty mug, she launched it at his head, but it glanced off him, not having any effect whatsoever.

  He laughed. “Feisty little bitch aren’t you?”

  “What the hell do you want from me?”

  “You’ve got nothing I could possibly want, Rupert.” He lifted his hand and a huge knife glinted sharp and menacing.

  “Don’t call me that, you mental bastard.” She upended the table in his direction. “Help!” she screamed, praying someone in the street would hear and come to her rescue.

  “I’m going to slice the tongue out of your head if you don’t shut up.” The quiet, calm manner he spoke in freaked her out even more than if he’d been yelling. He lunged for her, but Rebecca was fast and a lot smaller and she darted out of the way, causing him to stumble.

  This gave Rebecca the opportunity to get out, past him, but he was close behind. She made the split-second decision to go upstairs not down, remembering she’d locked the front door and the key was in the fruit bowl, in the kitchen. The fire escape ladder was her only way out.

  Although a lot bigger than her, he was equally fast and, just a few stairs up, she felt him on her tail. She turned and kicked out at him, feeling she had the upper hand, and if she could get him to fall just a few steps, this could be all the time she needed to get out.

  He saw her foot coming and buried the blade deep into her heel. The pain was beyond anything Rebecca had ever experienced before.

  They both froze for a millisecond, their eyes locked, then his eyes crinkled at the corners and she realised the crazy bastard was smiling!

  Yanking her foot backwards, she turned again, and, this time, the knife sliced through her calf muscle. More intense pain washed over her, but the adrenaline had kicked in and forced her forward at speed.

  As she reached the top of the stairs, getting sight of the window, her escape, the blade punctured her right buttock. The force of the blow was so intense she felt it travel right through her and pin her to the floorboards beneath. She couldn’t move.

  Her attacker then yanked the knife out, climbed on top of her, pressing her to the threadbare carpet. He grabbed her hair and tore her head back, placing the knife at her throat.

  She knew she was going to die.

  The blade sliced her throat, but she felt no pain.

  The last thing she was aware of was him picking up her left foot and dragging her through to the bedroom.

  Twenty-One

  Blanche glided over, looking like a bulldog chewing a wasp. I guessed her outfit, makeup and hair were meant to be paying homage to Dusty Springfield, but listening closely, I swear I could hear poor Dusty spinning in her grave.

  She was full of exuberance and flannel. “You were sensational, Avaline, and the crowd just adored you.”

  “Thanks.” What else was I going to say?

  “I knew there was something special about you, the moment I laid eyes on you.”

  “You’re too kind,” I said.

  Blanche took my hand. I looked down and noticed the costume jewellery. Every finger was adorned with a ring with some gaudy, vulgar-looking stone. “I’d like to offer you a regular spot every Friday night, if you’re interested that is?”

  I wasn’t at all interested, but until the killer was off the streets, working at Dorothy’s was the better option. I needed to be where the action was and although I didn’t relish the idea of doing drag for the rest of my life, right now I couldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth or whatever that old saying was.

  “Wow, really? I’m thrilled.”

  “Good, good,” Blanche replied. “Same time next week then?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Leave your contact details with Matt at the bar.” She pointed to the handsome barman who had served me earlier. “Free drinks for you from now on.” Air kisses were delivered before she flounced off.

  I guessed that meant I wouldn’t be getting paid with good old cash, but free drinks weren’t to be sniffed at.

  Roy dashed over. “You’re a star, do you know that?”

  “Behave yourself,” I scoffed. “I only mimed along to a song.”

  “Oi, don’t put yourself down. It takes guts and artistry to do what you just did and get a roar of approval from this smelly lot. You were absolutely fabulous.” He sounded a little choked with emotion. “I always wanted my very own drag daughter, but I’ll be buggered if I’m lumbering myself with the name Saddlebags...”

  “Eh?”

  “… No, there’s only one thing for it, you’ll have to become a Swallocks. Ooh, the Haus of Swallocks, who’d have thought it?”

  “I’m becoming neither, soft arse.” This drag lark was so complicated. Drag mothers and daughters. What was the world coming to? “You know why I’m doin
g this. The fact the crowd liked it hasn’t changed how I feel.”

  “Yes, I know, but a girl can dream, can’t she?”

  “Dream away, Roy.” I watched as Will exited the building and dreaded the ribbing, on Monday morning, from him and the team. I wasn’t naïve enough to think he didn’t capture at least some of my performance with his mobile phone.

  “Are you ready to go? My face is melting with the heat in here.”

  “Yeah, come on,” I said. “I’ll treat us to an Indian takeway on the way back to mine.” It was the least I could do, and even though there wasn’t one slither of sexual attraction, from my side at least, I liked him and enjoyed his company.

  “Ooh, not for me, Avaline love, I’d blow a bloody big hole through my mattress if ate that muck. Gives me shocking wind, you know, anything with spices. I’d never be off the lav.”

  This time I did laugh. He had a way with words that tickled my sometimes bawdy sense of humour. “McDonalds then?”

  “That sounds more like it, but we’ll have to use the twenty-four-hour drive-thru, I’m not walking in there with you looking like that.”

  It was quite the performance getting back into Roy’s car now we were both in full drag. After banging my head several times on the ceiling, I tore the wig from my head and chucked it onto the back seat.

  Moments later, Roy pulled into the drive-thru. “Two Big Mac meals, darling,” he purred into the mic.

  “What do you want to drink?” The waitress sounded tired and uninterested.

  “Orange juice,” I whispered.

  “Orange juice for both meals.”

  “Drive to the first window.”

  The sight of us certainly woke the girl up.

  I almost pissed myself at the expression on her face. She didn’t know where to look. I was still laughing when we pulled back out into traffic. “Did you see her face?”