Francesca, page 4
Whoever he was, I hoped I would never have to see him again. I felt ashamed of myself, thinking he was possibly the boyfriend of someone I worked with. What an awful night. But something inside of me warmed when I thought of him. Stupid I know. Still, it had been an instant attraction, even a fatal one in the heat of the moment, and no one’s fault. I was as eager for his kisses as he had been for mine. How we had ended up like that I’ll never know, but we had and that was the end of it.
Before I knew it, it was Christmas Eve. I had finished the lunchtime session, which was the last session before the holidays. All the strippers knew it was the graveyard shift. A few stragglers came and went. I had agreed to this, or rather I had come to an agreement with the publican.
The last Friday in the pubs was the real money-spinner. Everyone in the city had gotten paid, and the customers all had their bonuses. They were feeling merry and generous. A shift at one of the busier pubs in the city centre where all the offices were meant big money. All the girls waited with baited breath to see who would get this goldmine. It was up to the publican to choose who he felt would hold the crowd.
If the publicans liked you and they thought you brought in customers, they could specifically request you from the agency, and so everyone waited. I had been approached by one of the publicans and his wife. The deal was I could work their busiest shift of the year if I agreed to do the Christmas Eve lunchtime. They knew it would be quiet, half a dozen at most. But they also knew you could make more than enough money on the Friday before to justify doing it. So I agreed.
I had driven up to see my mam and my brothers the weekend before. I took Bobby and dropped him off at my mam’s. He enjoyed this, being made a fuss of and having my brothers to play with.
This also meant I could work around the clock and take every shift possible without having to explain myself to Chris. I felt awkward asking her to babysit for such a huge amount of time day in and day out. I felt it imposed on our friendship.
Working all the hours the week before Christmas saw you through January, when no one seemed to have much money to part with, having spent it all in December.
Not having to go home after my shift and pick up Bobby was a bonus. Fighting my way through the traffic on Christmas Eve in London wasn’t something I looked forward to.
So I had gone to my mam’s with a host of Christmas presents in the boot of the car and given my mam some money towards the Christmas shopping. This made it all worthwhile.
It felt great opening the door to my mam’s, and the first smell that hit me was her baking. The warmth of the oven and the aura of the mince pies she was making wafted through the house.
It was dark and icy outside. It had been snowing, and the Christmas tree with its fairy lights and tinsel made the house feel warm and welcoming. The television had some Christmas movie on, and all the boys were sat on the sofa burning their lips on hot mince pies and sausage rolls! The welcome was lovely. They all ran towards me and gave me a hug, each one wanting to tell me his news. Then mum walked into the lounge from the kitchen after hearing the noise. Her hands were covered in baking flour, and she walked towards me and gave me a hug. This was what I needed. This was what I had missed.
Christmas came and went in a mayhem of overindulgence, wrapping paper, and smiles all around. My mam saved all year round for Christmas, buying saving stamps at the supermarkets for the food and paying weekly towards presents she thought the boys, including Bobby, would like.
We hardly had a chance to have a proper chat until New Year’s Eve. The boys were all playing with a car racing game, and my mam came through to the lounge with two large cups of coffee.
‘You’re still my baby you know. I know when something is wrong and when you’re lying to me. You’re not getting all this money working behind a bar or temping as a secretary. What is it, love?’ she asked.
My face burned, and before I knew it, I was spilling the beans on my work, the divorce, and even my encounter with the stranger in the beer garden. It felt good to let it all out and be able to tell the truth. The one person who wouldn’t judge me was my mam. Once I started, I couldn’t stop and found myself telling her all the little funny stories about the girls I worked with.
She didn’t approve, but she accepted it and admired me for standing on my own two feet and getting on with things. As for Luke and the divorce, she said I was well out of it. I had never told her all about Luke and my married life. But at this moment, I knew she had already guessed he hit me, and it had been an abusive relationship. For the first time, I felt like a grown up chatting and confiding in my mam—the two of us talking woman to woman.
Back at home, things soon returned to normal. Time had flown by. My divorce decree had come. After everything that had happened, I stiff felt a little sadness at how things had turned out.
I walked into the changing rooms one day and found half a dozen of my workmates all chatting and excited. They were bubbling over with enthusiasm and laughter. They hadn’t even noticed me.
‘What’s happening here?’ I asked, putting my bag down. ‘What are you all doing here?’
Candy was the first to turn around. Still beaming, she announced, ‘You will never guess what.’ She almost screamed at me. ‘Lambrianu’s is having an open audition day next Sunday. My God, Fran, this is big time.’
‘What is Lambrianu’s?’ I asked curiously. Whatever it was, it had created a great deal of excitement.
They all looked at me with that bored expression on my face as though I was an idiot.
‘Good God, Fran. Have you lived in a cave or something all of your life? It’s only the most infamous nightclub in the West End—very upmarket and exclusive. The owner, Mr Lambrianu, is some sort of gangland boss, who owns one of the biggest clubs in town and only hires the very best.’
Shrugging my shoulders and feeling a fool, I said simply, ‘I’ve never heard of it or him,’ adding, ‘Why is he having an audition day if he hires only the best? What is the best anyway?’ I couldn’t understand what all the excitement was about.
Each one of them looked towards the ceiling and shook her heads. There was the odd comment about how stupid I was, and then everyone dispersed to her respective place of work, leaving only Candy and me.
She explained, as though talking to a child, that these famous nightclubs were owned by this celebrity gangland boss, who ran some sort of protection racket. Apparently, anyone who was anyone knew him, and those who didn’t wanted the prestige of sort of knowing him by going to his clubs. He was, I also learnt, a total womaniser, famous for having a different woman on his arm every night—usually some model who wanted her photo taken with him so it would end up in some glossy magazine.
She explained that people paid a lot of money to get into his clubs. The entry fee was a hundred pounds. This stopped all the riff-raff from going. It was simple. If you couldn’t afford it, you shouldn’t be there. Candy explained that working for this guy would be a whole different ball game. No collections, only wages. He paid the highest and wanted only the best.
Apparently he knew the agent we worked for, among others, and his manageress had suggested they were prepared to audition some of their ‘better’ strippers. This is what had caused all the excitement. Each and every one of the girls wanted to be put forward for these auditions, though there were no guarantees.
‘Why would a famous gangland boss with loads of money and influential friends own some strip club?’ I asked Candy.
Again, she just laughed at me. ‘Supply and demand, Fran. Men are men whatever class they are from. And if this guy thinks there is money to be made, he’ll make it—only bigger, better, and classier than anyone else. He even has pole dancers.’
‘You seem to know a lot about him. What is he like?’ I asked. All this excitement intrigued me.
‘No idea, Fran. All I know is what I have read in the newspapers and magazines. I know of him but, I don’t know him, and I don’t know anyone who does. We move in very different circles.’
Days passed. I didn’t think anymore about Lambrianu’s and the audition—though it always seemed to become the topic of conversation—until the call came.
Candy telephoned me and informed me that she had been put forward for the audition, which didn’t surprise me. She was, after all, a close friend of the agents. Then she informed me that I had also been put forward to audition.
Me? I was astounded. She was rambling on, but I wasn’t listening. Her words were still echoing in my ears. I had never presumed that I would be asked. I wasn’t beautiful like the others. I scraped by and was comfortable in these little backstreet pubs. Why would I want to humiliate myself auditioning and being rejected?
I didn’t want to do it and gave my argument to Candy. She started getting angry. I could hear it in her voice.
‘For God’s sake, Fran. You are a beautiful young woman—long dark, wavy auburn hair down your back; a size eight waist; and boobs to die for. When are you going to look into the mirror and see the real you?’ she shouted over the telephone.
I was surprised at her description of me. No I didn’t see that. All I saw was plain old Francesca—someone who had repulsed her husband and made him want to cheat on her. If I looked so good, why had he done it? Eventually I agreed to go with her, even as moral support.
The day of the auditions arrived. We had decided to get a black cab because parking in the West End of London was mayhem and expensive. Pulling up outside of the huge building, I realised exactly what Candy and the others were excited about.
It was four storeys high, and it was situated on the corner and took up both sides of the street. Black flags at the top of the building advertised the clubs name Lambrianu in pink. It took my breath away. This was truly a totally different league. The name above the double doors was in neon pink.
I was surprised by how many girls were there. There must have been nearly a hundred—all from other agencies around the city and even outside London. The penny was beginning to drop. This really was a big deal. Inside, the club was enormous. Huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The stage area was a full professional stage with pink velvet curtains at the sides. It was like something out of a movie. Long leather sofas lined the seating area, and the bar was a huge circle in the middle of the room, hosting bottles of drinks I had never even heard of. I was in awe.
Eventually a woman in her thirties walked towards us all. She was immaculately dressed in a black suit and white blouse. Her heels were high, and her blonde hair was in a fancy ponytail, trailing down her back. She introduced herself as Sharon. She seemed very professional with her clipboard in her hand. She made everyone line up in regimental fashion. She had another woman with her, who every now and again, she would turn to and whisper something.
I definitely didn’t like this. No way could I come up to this woman’s expectations. She just wanted to see you naked, making sure there were no stretch marks or blemishes and whether you had any rhythm. This disappointed Candy, because she had spent a fortune on a new sequined costume especially for the occasion.
Already, I noticed people were leaving and looked at Candy for an explanation.
‘They are either over a size twelve waist, or she doesn’t like the look of them. Either way, she’s getting that assistant of hers to thank them for coming and giving them twenty pounds for cab fare home,’ she whispered.
The girls were leaving in droves. We waited for our twenty-pound farewell. But it never came.
We were led into the changing rooms, which were bigger than my front room. It was just like you see in the theatres with huge mirrors surrounded with lights. In fact, this wasn’t a club. It was a theatre! It oozed sophistication. This was a far cry from the little East End pubs I was used to.
We were down to about twenty of us. Sharon sat opposite us with her clipboard, not showing any emotion in her face, whether she liked you or not.
Candy did her dance, and then Sharon’s assistant turned to me and told me I was next. I was trembling. I was even on the verge of backing out. But Candy told me to get on with it. At least I hadn’t been thrown out yet. We were still in with a chance.
Looking back, it had all seemed a bit of a daze. I just remember going through the motions, and then the music finished. It was over.
Sharon stood up at the end and clapped her hands at all of us. ‘Thank you, ladies. We’ll be in touch in a few days when we have decided.’ With that, she got up and walked away.
Sharons assistant give us our cab fare and showed us out. That was it. It was over, and as we left, we both felt a little deflated. All that hype and adrenalin for nothing.
After a couple of weeks and hearing nothing, we both presumed we hadn’t made the grade. Candy said she wished she hadn’t told everyone now. She felt silly, having to explain we hadn’t heard anything.
Then the call came. Candy screamed down the telephone at me that she had been offered a job. I was pleased for her. I really was. This was her dream come true. She had set a lot of store on the auditions, and at last her dream had come true. She went on and on about what Sharon had said to her, and then she told me again, just in case she had forgotten anything.
Putting down the telephone after wishing her well, I walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on and failed to notice the message flashing on my answer phone. Yes, I had been offered a job as well and was to turn up the following Monday at 8 p.m.
As we arrived, bouncers were standing outside with their radios and headpieces with microphones on. They opened the door for us, and we walked in up to the bar. Sharon greeted us and informed us that, in future, we were to use the staff entrance, the side door and not the front. She explained it kept up the mystery and expectation of the men. Also, we were in our street clothes, and that just wouldn’t do. Lambrianu girls turning up in their jeans? No way.
In the changing rooms, there were some dancers who had obviously worked there a while. They seemed to look down their noses at us. They were sitting with their heated rollers in, and the room smelt of hairspray and make-up. They didn’t seem impressed by us.
I was very nervous, especially when Sharon pulled us to a side and went through the rules of the house. Believe me. It was a very long list! It reminded me of being in front of the head teacher at school. She informed us that we and five other girls had made it through and that we were on probation for two months.
Firstly, there was no dating or drinking with the customers. We were there to work. Punctuality was a must. We were to have our hair and nails done regularly, and she looked at me and suggested I go on a sunbed to get a tanned glow. Costumes were changed weekly. She pointed at the back of the room, where there were rails of costumes on hangers. She informed us they were there for anyone to use. So that was why they wanted everyone the same dress size or smaller. She would discuss with us later how many shifts we would like to work. In a week or two, she would decide whether to offer you more or fewer shifts, depending on the reviews she had from the men.
She also informed us that they had VIP booths were you could do one-to-one dances. With a wagging finger, she also explained that the booths had CCTV cameras in them. So don’t even think of being tempted by any ‘extra money’ the men offered you to be intimate. ‘Any funny business, and you’re sacked. This is a reputable club, not a knocking shop.’
All said and done, I felt like crawling under a stone. All the other women were making themselves busy doing their hair but having a good listen to the toasting we were getting.
She handed us our timetables; smiled; and then, thankfully, walked out.
‘So,’ said Candy trying to break the ice with the others, ‘when do we get to meet the big boss then, now we have passed the audition?’
‘You don’t. It’s as simple as that. He’s not interested in us. We’re his employees. He likes models and actresses who put him on the red carpet at movie premiers. We don’t even come into it. The best thing you can do is keep your head down, do your work, and don’t cause any trouble. He’s ruthless.’
The response seemed to take the smile off Candy’s face. She had wanted so much to be associated with this famous gangland boss and the reputation of working for him. Like all of us, she was just another employee.
‘So, where is he then?’ Candy persisted now she had their attention. She looked around the dressing room waiting for an answer.
‘Mr Lambrianu is usually at his casino. Sharon takes care of us, and she is in charge.’ said one of the strippers in a bored, nonchalant way while putting the finishing touches to her make-up.
That was the end of it. One of the girls moved aside to where there were some spare seats in front of a mirror, and we started getting ready. I was nervous. These women were gorgeous, absolute perfection.
I looked across at Candy and gave a weak smile. She looked crushed. This hadn’t lived up to her expectations at all.
4
Lambrianu’s
The weeks flew by. Surprisingly enough, I quickly got the hang of it. I loved the atmosphere. You were like some famous showgirl in a West End show. As much as I missed the East End pubs and their lax a daisy ways at times, I found myself enjoying the stardom of my new workplace, even though it was regimented.
I polished up my act a lot and put more effort into the way I looked under Sharon and the other girl’s guidance. More than ever, the money was amazing—even though you didn’t do a collection before you danced. That didn’t stop the men waving you over towards them and putting a twenty-pound note at the side of the stage or in your garter.
