Widows

The club where Bella worked was dark and seedy and it smelt of beer, cigarettes and fat sweaty men. No one noticed Dolly walk in because all eyes were on the stage. She stood at the back of the room, watching a girl in her early twenties performing and listening to the men tell each other what they’d like to do to her. Their crude innuendos made Dolly’s stomach churn, but their drunken heckles were worse. As the girl struggled to remove her bra and stay upright in her four inch heels, they shouted at her as though she was a piece of meat. When her song ended, she left the stage to laughter and a hail of flying bottles.

The soles of Dolly’s shoes stuck to the beer-soaked carpet as she tried to push toward the stage; the men, thinking she was a punter wanting a better view, wouldn’t let her past. She folded her arms around her handbag and made herself as small as possible; she’d have to wait for a break in the show. The idea of touching or being touched by these men repulsed her; some of them had their hands down the front of their trousers.

When the next record began, there was a loud cheer from the men before they settled down almost to silence. Dolly strained to look over the shoulders of the crowd immediately in front of her, and eventually found a spot from where she could see the stage. Bella was already moving down the catwalk, her oiled body glistening and swaying with the grace of a panther. She was dressed in a black leather mini-skirt, a black leather bra and black leather knee-high boots, and wielded a long black leather whip, which she cracked above her head. There was a look of wildness and overpowering sensuality about her as she swayed to the music, staring arrogantly at the men. She met their eyes, every one of them, and they were totally under her spell.

Dolly was as spellbound as the rest of the audience, but for a completely different reason. She is so strong, Dolly thought to herself. She recognized something similar in herself: a hidden, almost masculine strength that allowed her a measure of control over people like Boxer Davis. But what Bella had went beyond that. Dolly looked around the room and could see that the men weren’t speaking, or looking about, or laughing and joking — there were no disparaging comments, no jeers, no insults; they were mesmerized. In that moment, Dolly knew that Bella was exactly the right person to be their fourth man. As the men imagined Bella naked, Dolly imagined her dressed in an overall and ski-mask, wielding a shotgun instead of a whip. She smiled to herself. Those security guards will shit themselves, she thought.

As Bella’s routine went on, Dolly was shocked to see the bra and mini-skirt come off, revealing nothing but a tiny leather G-string. The boots stayed on and Bella stood with her legs wide open, gyrating her crotch at the front row. A great wave of howling broke out, and the men banged on the wooden stage, wolf whistling and whooping. The cheers grew louder as Bella slowly moved her head from side to side, licking her lips and curling her mouth in a snarl. Dolly clutched her handbag, transfixed. Bella seemed almost bored, detached, yet totally in control, while every man in the sordid room drooled over her sleek, toned body as if nothing and no one could touch her. In a month or two, Dolly promised silently, you’ll never have to do this again.

When Bella’s act was over, most of the men raced to the bar and Dolly took the opportunity to head toward the stage. As Bella picked up her discarded clothes, the drag queen walked on stage and was immediately greeted with boos and shrill whistles.

‘Bella!’ shouted Dolly over the racket.

Bella was still naked from the waist up. She stood in front of Dolly with her hands on her hips. ‘We got big trouble,’ she said. ‘Tony Fisher is on the warpath. Last night he turned up at the arcade asking after Linda. She wasn’t there, thank God, and she’s at home now with some fella watching over her. I’ve tried to call Shirley to make sure she’s OK, but there’s no reply. Then there’s the thing with Boxer. Do you think it’s connected to the Fishers?’

Dolly had no idea where to start, so she went with the last thing she had heard. ‘What thing with Boxer?’

Bella paused while she did up her bra. ‘I thought you would have heard? Boxer was found in an alley last night, outside the Sports Club. He’s been beaten to a pulp, apparently — properly smashed up. Dolly... Linda said it was awful.’

Just then, a drunk lurched into Dolly from behind. She turned and gave him a shove which made him fall through the door to the gents. She turned back to Bella. ‘Boxer was supposed to leave town!’ she said. ‘I gave him money and told him where to stay. I can’t take care of everything and I’m not responsible for what happened to him.’