Chapter 10
Mr High and Mighty Stick Up Your Arse
‘How was I supposed to know he was your boss?’ Barry muttered. ‘Crazy bastard was trying to get on stage.’
Libby sighed and knelt down next to Jamie. He’d recovered consciousness but was still winded. ‘You didn’t have to punch his lights out. Couldn’t you have just held him back or something? What happened to non-violent restraint techniques?’
‘Load of bloody bollocks,’ Barry muttered. ‘Non-violent, my arse. Anyone tries to touch you girls they’re gonna be sorted out good and proper.’ Jamie groaned and his eyelids fluttered. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be checking him over or something, mate?’ Barry asked Pavlos Martakis, who had battled his way to the changing room after Libby had made Barry and Steve carry Jamie through and lie him on the sofa.
‘What?’ Mr Martakis said, flashing Jamie a brief glance before focusing back on all the activity around him. His apparent concern for his friend seemed to have evaporated as soon as he made it backstage. Libby was guessing that a room full of semi-naked, universally well-endowed women squeezing themselves into all manner of tiny outfits would do that to a man. ‘He seems fine to me. Told me to sod off so he can’t be too bad. Don’t worry; I know from experience that his head is pretty hard. I’m sure a cheeky tap to his temple won’t do him much harm.’
Libby rolled her eyes at Mr Martakis and he winked at her. ‘Fantastic job in there by the way. All that leaping about. I must say I thoroughly approve of your career choice. Stuff the NHS; you’d be doing far more good for humanity prancing about in your underwear. It’s done me the power of good I can tell you.’
‘Pavlos,’ Jamie muttered, his eyes now blinking open as he swung up to a sitting position on the sofa. ‘Will you, for once in your life shut the fuck up.’ He rubbed the side of his face and winced when he encountered the bruising and swelling that was blooming across his cheekbone. Libby reached for him as he sat up, her hands fluttering uselessly around him, anticipating another blackout. Eventually she touched his forearm.
‘Are … ’ she cleared her throat. ‘Are you okay?’ She gave his arm a squeeze and he jerked it away, avoiding eye contact with her.
‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Great cocktails you mixed there.’ Libby bit her lip and withdrew her hand to tuck her hair behind her ears. She was wearing her huge fleecy dressing-gown in the style of a Jedi Knight, which covered her from chin to feet, but somehow she still felt exposed.
‘I have ice for the stupid bugger,’ Tara snapped as she strutted across the dressing room from the kitchen. She was still in her white underwear – never one to bother with a dressing gown, even when soaking wet. She stopped in front of them, threw her hip out and rested her hand on it as she chucked the ice pack onto Jamie’s lap. Her eyes flashed to Mr Martakis. ‘What is this pervert doing in here? You after a free show?’
‘I …’ Mr Martakis looked Tara up and down, then smiled slowly. ‘Will you marry me?’ Libby saw Tara’s lips twitch before she pressed them in a thin line.
‘Got a bloke, mate, and he’d twist your dick into a pretzel before he let you anywhere near me. So hush your mouth.’
‘Wow,’ Mr Martakis said. ‘Sounds like quite the young man. Although, I must advise that from a urological perspective that would be ill advised. Tell me – are you always in that Big Spender get up? Ever switch things up? Naughty nurse maybe? Is there a suggestion box?’
‘Awhatperspective?’
‘He’s a urologist,’ Jamie snapped, standing abruptly from the sofa, his face like thunder. ‘Pav, shut up. Jesus.’
‘Just complimenting the ladies on their craft and giving general encouragement,’ Pav told him, his eyes following a topless redhead as she walked past them in just a shiny g-string.
‘I think they’re doing just fine in theircraftwithout your input.’ Jamie saidcraftwith an unmistakable sneer in his voice, and his lip curled as he took in the rest of the room. ‘Where’s Rosie?’ It was the first time he’d looked at Libby since he’d regained consciousness; his expression was cold, clinical even.
‘She’s at Mum and Dad’s,’ Libby told him, standing from the sofa to face him.
‘Dotheyknow what you’re doing here? Or did you fob them off with the cocktail story as well?’ he asked.
Libby pressed her lips together and looked away. She had been working last night till the early hours and then hadn’t wanted to miss out on Saturday with Rosie, so over the last forty-eight hours she’d had very little sleep and the tight band of a tension headache was beginning to make itself known. She wasn’t up to angry confrontations and men intent on making her feel like crap.No fate, she repeated in her head as she turned away from him. This was a means to an end and nobody was going to make her feel ashamed.
*****
Jamie was fuming. He couldn’t believe that Libby,hisLibby … fuck, no, she wasn’thisLibby. Clearly she didn’t even trust him enough to be honest about what she did for a living.
A stripper?
This woman who wore no make-up, flat shoes, tied her hair up in a goddamn elastic band?Thiswoman was making a living by tarting herself up and stripping off her clothes? He glanced again at her face, still hauntingly beautiful even caked with the make-up that had stood up surprisingly well to the drenching it had received. For a moment he felt like he was going to throw up.
‘I can’t even look at you,’ he muttered. ‘A stripper? What were you thinking?’
He watched as her skin paled beneath the thick camouflage and then flushed bright red. She squared her small shoulders and her eyes flashed.
‘Maybe …’ she paused for a moment. All the emotion drained from her face and her mouth hardened. ‘Maybe I was thinking that instead of having a baby at eighteen and dropping out to collect benefits, I would try and make something of myself. Maybe I thought: You know what? This,’ she pointed to her face, ‘and this,’ she swept an arm down her body, ‘and these,’ she grabbed both her breasts through the thick dressing gown material, ‘could actuallyhelpme instead of dragging me down. Could actually earn me enough money to take control of my life. Could allow me to carry on with my educationandspend time with my daughter.
‘It’s not my fault that rich Hutt Spawn like you lot are dumb enough to part with your money just to watch women like me in my underwear.You,’ she poked him in the chest and moved into his personal space, ‘haven’t been a scared, pregnant seventeen-year-old disappointment to your parents.Youhaven’t been faced with the prospect of all your dreams going to shit because of one stupid decision you made when you were still a child yourself. So fuck you, Mr High and Mighty Stick Up Your Arse. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.’
‘Well said, sweetheart,’ Mr Martakis put in. ‘Just to clarify: we didn’t ride in on a horse exactly – more like Derek’s Ford Focus; but well said all the same. Not sure what a Hutt Spawn is, so I’ll take it as a compliment for now. I’m going to take Mr High and Mighty Stick Up His Arse – which by the way issobeing logged in as your new nickname on the theatre rota, mate – and get out of your hair.’
