By the end of the week, the small riot was already a distant memory. The club was cleaned up, a few new bouncers were on staff, and things were as they should be.
Liam returned to The Foxy Lady the following Tuesday, and the Tuesday after that. Della kept him from prying information out of her about Genevieve, by telling stories of some of the other girls. She disliked gossip of any kind, although it was difficult not to get sucked into a little bit now and then. Some of the stories she heard were enough to make even Della squirm, and she was one tough cookie. One thing she did tell Irish, however, was that Genevieve was different than the others. She kept to herself, wasn’t there to steal the limelight from any of the old timers, and minded her own business. The other dancers seemed to like her well enough, and she was no trouble for the club, although she often arrived just in time to go on, which by Della’s standards was pushing it.
But there was something lingering that Della could not put her finger on. Liam wasn’t surprised. Genevieve had proven to Liam that she was someone he could trust, and that went far with him. She was eccentric and edgy, that was for certain, but that wasn’t the issue. What bothered him was her reserve, like she was hiding something, and Liam felt whatever that something was, it was big. She definitely had some deep, dark secret and it bothered him that he didn’t know what it was.
It was early, only ten thirty pm the third Tuesday after the bar fight, and Liam had nothing but time on his hands. Plus, he figured he might get a glimpse if Genevieve happened to walk into the club early. So far he had stayed clear of her on his weekly visits, not wanting to be discovered he was in on her secret, if that’s what it was. The past couple weeks at the salon had been the most difficult. He was dying to talk with her about her double life, dying for an inside peek, though he knew he had no right. But intrigue was getting the better of him and he didn’t know how much longer he could last without revealing that he had been frequenting The Foxy Lady now, just to watch her show. Oh, he had his alibi alright, if she did find him out. Della could vouch for the fact that Irish had been a regular customer there for years, which he had. He’d rehearsed what he’d say to Genevieve, that he didn’t know it was her behind the shadows, or that he’d only just found out that night. There were ways around her not suspecting that he’d known for weeks that this was her alternate ego, that he’d been one of the regulars who ogled her through the dimness of the stage lights.
Della placed a Ginger Ale on the rocks in front of Liam and sat down beside him. It was a good time to take a load off as the place wasn’t due to start filling up till midnight.
“Ya know, Irish, I’ve been thinking I should introduce you to Savannah, you know, Savannah Porsche, our ribbon lady.”
Liam didn’t raise his eyes from his drink.
“Aw, c’mon Irish, you know you’ve got an eye for her. You always have. She’s a good girl, arrives to work early every night, never gets herself into trouble, and she goes home alone. Imagine that?” Della smiled. “Whadya say, Irish? I hate to see you sittin’ here all alone week after week. Aren’t ya tired of being sad and lonely?”
Della stared singing, Are you lonesome tonight, Do you miss me tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart? She loved Elvis, and Liam couldn’t help smile at Della’s sensitivity.
“Okay, tell ya what I’m gonna do.” Della grabbed Liam’s hands, resting on the tabletop, and wrapped them in hers. “After the show tonight, I want you to meet me at the backstage door. You aint leaving without a meet ‘n greet. Not tonight. That’s all I ask. Do I have your promise?”
Liam looked skeptically at Della.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Della stood, stretched her legs and plumped up her breasts to just overflowing, before stepping out onto the main floor.
“Gotta run, sugar. Enjoy the show. Savannah’s first up.” She winked at him, then walked off toward the bar.
Liam nestled back into his corner as the house lights dimmed and the music started. One of the things he loved about coming to The Foxy Lady was that Della took such good care of him. Perhaps it was the mother in her that appealed, though she wasn’t that much older than he was, maybe ten or twelve years, but he knew she’d had a hard life and was trying to do good without all the resources and know-how to do so. Those reasons alone made Liam relate to her – and love her in his own way. They both seemed to have picked up on the similarities in each other’s background, even though they never dared bring it up. It was an unspoken understanding among those from an impoverished, dysfunctional upbringing. They just knew. Liam watched the performance, mesmerized by the soaring ribbons and the beauty of movement onstage.
After the last dancer of the evening walked offstage and the curtain went down, Liam Irish paid his tab at the bar and made his way to the stage door. Della was nowhere to be found so he pushed the door open and walked through. It was a hive of activity, nearly naked woman parading around from room to room giggling and gabbing about the night’s acts. Many of the older women, those in their thirties or early forties, were happily lounging around having a drink and smoking cigarettes. It was their cool down time after the show. On the other hand, many of the younger girls were in a rush to change and get out of the club for what remained of the active part of their stint, walking the streets seeing what extra could be made by turning a couple of tricks. Liam knew this was all in a day’s work.
There was no sign of Savannah, or Genevieve for that matter, and Liam realized he was the only man backstage except for a couple of stagehands. His presence was starting to cause quite a stir. Women stared and whistled and called him over to where they were sitting, trying to entice him to join them for the evening. He tried to ignore their taunts. Even he was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Just then a door opened and out walked Savannah. She was scantily dressed in a black and pink lace bodice with garters that attached to silk opaque stockings. On her feet were hot pink stiletto slippers with fluffy white ostrich feathers puffs on each toe. A sheer, revealing cover up did not do its job, showing off not only dark red nipples that poked over the laced up bodice, but a hint of what might lie in wait down at the bottom. Liam’s breath caught. Should he turn and walk the other way, or should he show how he really felt, completely swept off his feet by her beauty and sexiness? Rather than wait for him to decide, Savannah Porsche jostled right up, as if she had been expecting him.
“I hear you might be looking for a little company tonight. Is that right?” Her voice was like liquid velvet.
“Where did you hear that?” Liam stammered.
He could feel the heat in his face and it pissed him off that his body gave him away. Why couldn’t he be like other men, grab her around the waist, haul her into her dressing room, and do her right there on the floor with her moaning and screaming for all to hear. But oh, no, not quiet, reserved Liam. He hated this side of him and he often felt victim to his own shortcomings. Before he could give much more thought to his genetic framework, Liam felt Savannah’s body next to his. Her bare breasts ever so lightly touched his arm, her lips brushed against his cheek.
“I’ve got some Grey Goose in my room. Interested?” She whispered in his ear. That alone made Liam’s head spin.
Liam wondered what to say. It wasn’t about the Grey Goose but he had to reply to that offer, and somehow the mention of Lent and sobriety didn’t seem to be what he had in mind. Before he could come up with a clever answer, one came to him another way. Savannah Porsche took him gently by the arm and led him quietly to her room, surrounded by an audience of jealous females. As they arrived at her the door, Liam’s shirt was half unbuttoned and Savannah’s fingers were fondling the hair on his chest, her tongue twirled around his right nipple. He could not stop his hands from reaching for hers, hard and ripe, waiting for him to pull them in gentle arousal. Before they could get the door closed there was a flutter of movement behind them. At first Liam thought it was the two of them causing a fuss, but then he realized women hustled back to their rooms, doors slammed, and what a minute ago was a vibrant, happy, after hours retreat, had just turned into lockdown. Liam tried to see what all the commotion was about but Savannah urged him into her room, and he was easily led. Before she could secure them safely inside, he heard a voice, a familiar voice, coming up to him. This time he turned around and found himself face to face with the one causing the disturbance.
“Eh, bro, what you doin in my house, huh? You not allowed back here. This here’s my office, these girls, my girls, got it?” By now Dominic was standing so close Liam could smell the Wild Turkey and Cohiba on his breath. Behind Dominic, Liam spied Genevieve, dressed in a lovely cream colored silk robe, with her hair loose around her face and down her back. He noticed that Genevieve looked frightened but he couldn’t tell if it was because of Dominic, or because she saw that he was there. Dominic’s eyes flared black and dangerous. Liam knew not to mess around with him but he was also a paying customer and had been for years. He hadn’t stepped out of line. A lot of the guys went back stage when invited, and Liam had been invited. The odd thing was, Liam had no idea Dominic owned The Foxy Lady. He wondered how long he had, or if he really even did own it. Strange things happened in these places so the truth was anyone’s guess. However, the behavior of the working girls when Dominic had come into the room spoke volumes. Piece by small piece, Liam started to put the Genevieve puzzle together.
...stay tuned...Chapter 6 will be posted next Tuesday, August 16th...