Free Stilettos & Stubble by Amanda Egan

‘Mum OK is she?  Is she there?’
     
    ‘Yep yep, she’s
fine.  Not here though.  Out somewhere or other.’  He paused.  ‘ Again .’
     
    Ah!  He wasn’t
feeling under the weather at all.  My mother was up to her old tricks and poor
Daddy was suffering.  I was outraged on his behalf and wondered how much more
he could take.  What would finally push him to put his foot down?
     
    I couldn’t bear
to think of him home alone and feeling miserable.  I looked at my watch - just
coming up for nine-thirty, still early, and I found myself saying, ‘Hey,
Daddy.  What d’ya say to a night on the town with your daughter?  Come and see
my new place of work?’
     
     
    *****
     
     
    A quick call to
Annie, who was ‘manning’ the phone, secured us a table and left me with ringing
ears.  His squeals down the phone, when I told him I’d decided to take the job,
were heart-warming and he agreed it would be an excellent idea for me to see a
show before throwing myself in at the deep end.
     
    ‘I just hope your
dad’s got an open mind, Sugartits.  This place ain’t for the faint-hearted.’
     
    I assured him
Daddy would be fine and that he’d been a huge Danny LaRue fan in his day.
     
    ‘Ah yes, Danny,
one of the finest - but compared to my bunch, bloody Mother Theresa.  Be
warned!’
     
    His cautionary
comment fell on deaf ears.  My father would be fine but, at that point, I had
no idea just how fine.
     
     
    *****
     
     
    ‘Tittie Late’,
Annie’s partner, had just finished ‘her’ act and I was feeling like I’d entered
another world - one of glamour and smut, entertainment and innuendo.  Tittie
had been sensational.  ‘She’d’ worked the crowd - an odd mix of gay and
straight, hens and stags - and had them buckled over laughing in their seats, cheering
and yelling in response to her one liners.
     
    Annie had
insisted on keeping Daddy and me in drinks for the night and it was more than
clear that my father was having a ball.  He’d started the evening a little
quiet and lost in his own thoughts but after a couple of double brandies, he
was his old self, chuckling at the gags and wiping tears away with his checked
hanky.
     
    ‘Oh Perce!  What
a place, eh?  I haven’t laughed so much in years.  Some of the jokes are quite
near the mark, aren’t they?  Your mother would hate it!  Far too vulgar for her taste.’
     
    I wondered if
that was why he was enjoying it quite so much - the devil in him was
rebelling and deliberately taking part in an activity that would be have been condemned
by my mother.  I decided not to give it any further thought.  He was happy -
far happier than he’d been earlier - and that was all that mattered.
     
    During the
interval we sat listening to a recording of ‘La Cages Aux Folles’ and I took
the time to take in the surroundings of what was to become my new work place. 
It was a small and intimate area with roughly a dozen round tables facing the
corner stage.  Each table was adorned with a dazzling gold brocade cloth,
exotic fake flowers and twinkling tea lights.  The stage, when not in use, was
concealed by a heavy scarlet and gold velvet curtain - hinting at the pleasures
to come.  The walls, also in reds and golds, were lit by ornate bronze light
fittings from a bygone age, topped off with tall imitation candles.  The air
was thick with scent and, if such a smell existed, glamour !  Had it not
been for the smoking ban, it would have been fitting for the club to be shrouded
in an atmospheric fog - adding to the decadent and dated feeling.
     
    Who would have
thought the exterior of the building could be hiding such a thriving and
successful business?
     
    Annie came over
to join us and shook Daddy’s hand as he pulled up a gilt-padded seat.
     
    ‘Quite a girl
you’ve got there,’ Annie said, ‘And I reckon she’s going to be an absolute
Godsend to this place.  I get a feeling about these things.  And you’re welcome
here, any