Peepshow (18 page)

‘It was my first instinct,’ he said, head in his hands.

‘It’s like, I dunno, you want to push someone away before they do it to you.’

‘Well, you did a great job of pushing me away. You and that blond bitch. Did you fuck her?’ The words just burst out.

‘Yes.’

Tears pricked my eyes. I thought he would at least lie.

I flung open the front door.

‘Get out.’

He came up and kissed me, breath sweet with bourbon. I tried to move my mouth away but he held my face and pushed his crotch into mine.

My brain went into meltdown and all my resolve was lost. Suddenly I was hungry for him, hungry for his cock.

I bit his lip, hard, and he pulled my black skirt up and shoved my knickers to the side. He leaned me against the wall. I wrapped my legs around him and he pushed his cock into me, fucking me standing up. The door was still open and any one of my neighbours could have walked by. I clawed his back with my nails, wanting to draw blood, hurt him, mark him.

‘I hate you,’ I gasped, ‘I fucking hate you.’

I did. I hated the hold he had on me.

It spurred him on and he fucked me harder, deeper, like a man possessed. My head banged against the wall and the wall shook. It was so intense I thought I’d pass out.

When he came he said he loved me. Must have been drunker than I thought.

I told him I had to work and kicked him out, had another shower, fixed my makeup and called a cab.

It wasn’t until I got in the taxi that I realised I’d had the earrings on the whole time.

Twenty minutes later I walked up the stairs of the Red, smelling cheap perfume and stale cigarettes. It was seven o’clock and three girls danced on podiums. One of them was Dakota and when I waved she deliberately ignored me. What was up her arse? A few guys milled around but I couldn’t see any corrupt policemen. I went to the girls’ room and had just changed into my red latex outfit when Aurora walked in wearing a fuchsia dress slashed to the groin. She already had a couple of hundred dollars in her garter.

‘Simone.’ She hugged me then held my shoulders, concerned. ‘What’s been happening? I heard there was a scene at the St Kilda Inn.’

‘It’s a long story.’

She let go and I crammed my bag into my locker.

‘Tell me over a drink,’ she said, ‘and don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d lose the earrings.’

We sat at the bar drinking champagne.

‘Fill me in,’ said Aurora. ‘Mick leaves a party last Thursday, goes to your place, and the two of you disappear for two days.’

‘Portsea.’

‘So I hear. Nice and romantic, then a punch-up at the pub and you leave separately. What gives?’

‘Mick got jealous, attacked a guy, then we had a fight.

I saw him half an hour ago but I don’t know what’s going on between us.’

‘Who was the guy Mick was fighting with? Someone told me it was a cop.’

‘I can’t tell you what’s going on right now. Maybe in a few days.’ I touched the earrings self-consciously.

‘If you’re in some kind of trouble, if you need any help, I’m here for you.’ She touched my arm. ‘All the girls are.’

Jim came up then, walkie-talkie crackling. ‘What’s going on, ladies? There’s a table full of guys, no one talking to them. Have your little gossip session in your own time, that’s not what I pay you for.’

‘We’re independent contractors,’ said Aurora, ‘you don’t pay us at all.’

We wandered over to the table of suits and Aurora perched on a chair in the middle and went to work.

I was watching, trying to figure out how she did it, when I felt a hand on my arse. Occupational hazard. I turned around to tell the guy to quit and came face to face with Dick Farquhar.

‘How much?’ Farquhar asked. He wore his corrupt detective on a night out look, a short-sleeved shirt patterned with swirls of red, blue and green. Abstract parrots? Wiry grey hair sprouted from the open neck.

‘How much for what?’ I tried to remember to breathe. In, out.

‘A dance.’

‘Twenty for two songs, fifty for ten minutes in the private room.’

He set his scotch on a nearby table and reached into the back pocket of his tan pants for his wallet. It was bowl shaped, moulded to his arse. He took out a fifty and shoved it roughly into my top, the plastic scratching my skin.

‘Follow me.’ I grabbed a tape from the bar and led him towards the private rooms, feeling dizzy, still not breathing right.

I took him into the first one we came to but Farquhar wanted to choose his own. Paranoid. He sat down and smiled and his teeth didn’t glow.

‘What do you want me to do?’ I asked.

‘Take your clothes off. I did pay for it.’ He sipped the scotch and his mouth made a wet smacking sound.

I stood up, unzipped my top and chucked it in the corner. I was about to do the same with my shorts when Farquhar laughed and held up his hand. ‘Whoa,’ he said, ‘not much of a dancer, are you? Put on some music, shake that ass.’

I glared at him, jammed the cassette in and pressed play. Some sleazy R&B number came on, the singer crooning about rubbing his baby up and down. Great. I moved awkwardly to the music, taking off my hotpants and bra. Farquhar stroked himself through his trousers.

Apparently there was a cock somewhere under that stomach.

‘You’re not allowed to do that,’ I told him.

He laughed. ‘I can do whatever the fuck I want.’

I shed my bikini bottoms with minimal grace and swayed in front of him. He leaned over and grabbed my arm, pulling me onto his lap. A small hard bulge pressed into my left butt cheek and one of his hands cupped my boob and wobbled it. Very erotic.

I looked around the room for a deadly weapon.

Ashtray to the head? Stiletto heel through the eye socket?

‘We’re going to the Uptown Hotel on Queens Road.’

His breath was hot and sticky in my ear. ‘A conference is winding up soon and there’s a man I want you to seduce. I’ve got a couple of grams of coke. If you can get him to imbibe, so much the better. Meet him in the bar, take him to your room and confine most of the action to the bed. That’s all you gotta do. One night, and I wipe the slate clean.’

‘Where’s the camera?’

‘You don’t need to know.’

‘What if he doesn’t go for it?’

‘You’d better make sure he does. Just don’t tell him you’re a stripper, I don’t want him to get suss. I’ll have someone watching you every step of the way so don’t do anything stupid. Be a good girl and I destroy all the paperwork and forget I ever caught you following me. Think I can’t tell when someone’s got me under surveillance?’ He shook his head. ‘Twenty-five years I’ve been in this game. Fucking amateur.’

My face flushed red and Farquhar let me off his lap. The synthetic material of his pants had made the backs of my legs sweat. Disgusting. He took a folded photograph out of his pocket.

‘This is Bob Lange. Take a good look.’

I held the photo up to the light and studied it. The man was middle aged, balding, average weight. Farquhar took the photo back and I got dressed. The tape stopped with a clunk.

‘Get changed into your civvies and meet me out in the bar. You’ve got two minutes.’

‘I’m in the middle of my shift,’ I protested.

‘Me and Jim go way back, he won’t mind.’

I raced to the dressing room in a panic. I had no way of knowing if Alex and his crew had picked everything up from my Maxwell Smart earrings. What if the music had been too loud? I quickly changed into my black skirt and top. Aurora walked in.

‘What’s going on? That was Dick Farquhar.’

‘I’ll tell you later.’ My hands shook as I stuffed everything into my bag. I picked up my mobile. Should I try to call Alex? Make sure he knew what was going on?

The girls’ room door swung in hard and hit the wall with a bang. Farquhar strode over and knocked the mobile out of my hand so it clattered to the floor.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Aurora said to him.

‘Keep your tits on.’ Farquhar winked at her. ‘No need to get jealous.’

Jealous? ‘It’s OK,’ I told her, ‘I’m fine.’

Farquhar followed me out of the club and down the stairs. No one tried to stop us. He hailed a cab and directed it to Queens Road where we pulled up in front of a four star hotel. He handed me a key and a bag of coke.

‘Go to room twenty-seven, and wait for me to contact you.’

I walked into the lobby and took the elevator to the second floor. I was alone in there and I talked softly to myself.

‘Room twenty-seven, Uptown Hotel.’ I hoped someone could hear.

My room was typical mid-range hotel. Bed, television, desk, minibar and everything decorated in beige.

A framed pastel print of a sailing boat hung on the wall.

I opened the minibar and skolled a tiny bottle of vodka.

The phone rang. ‘Don’t get too pissed,’ Farquhar said, ‘you don’t want to fuck this up.’

I whirled around looking for the hidden camera and Dick laughed. ‘Now go down to the bar next to the lobby. Lange and his mates’ll be there soon. And remember, you’re being watched.’

The bar was decorated in a Hawaiian theme, fake palms, thatched ceiling and cane furniture. I ordered champagne off a skinny guy with a plastic lei encircling his neck and looked around. An old couple drank pina coladas by the piano player. A thirty-something man sat by himself drinking beer. I lit a cigarette from a pack I’d bought on the way to the Red. It seemed like a good time to officially start up again.

Elevators opened across the lobby and a group of men and one woman piled out, laughing and talking, wearing cheap suits and reeking of cop. Show time.

They commandeered three tables near the front window, pushed them together, and a couple came up to order drinks. A young one with blond hair and full, pouty lips checked me out in the mirror behind the bar. He shook a cigarette out of a pack of Dunhills and turned to me.

‘Excuse me, do you have a light?’

‘Sure.’ I flicked my pink Bic.

‘Thanks.’ He drew back deeply, loosened his tie and blew the smoke out with a sigh. ‘I’m glad that’s over.’

‘What’s over?’

‘Conference. Sitting on your arse all day listening to people drone on.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘You’ve been conferencing too?’

‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘I’m over from Adelaide, sales rep with Lilywhite Disposables. You know, foam cups, takeaway containers, plastic forks, paper napkins . . .’

‘Great,’ he said smoothly. ‘Hey, we all use those things.’

‘Oh yeah, it’s a multimillion-dollar industry. What about you, what line of work are you in?’

‘Law enforcement, actually.’

‘Oh my god,’ I said. ‘That must be sooo exciting.’

‘Not when you’re sitting around all day. Listen, you want to come and have a drink with us?’ He nodded to his colleagues who were looking over, nudging each other.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I was just about to go up to my room and get an early night. I fly out tomorrow morning.’

‘Come on, just one drink. I won’t bite. Unless you want me to. Ha ha.’

‘Well, maybe just one. I’m Simone.’

‘Simone. That’s French, isn’t it? Jason.’ We shook hands and he ordered me another champagne, scotch for himself, and escorted me to the tables.

‘Everybody,’ he announced, ‘this is Simone. She’s from Adelaide, been doing the conference thing too.’

‘Are you all police officers?’ I asked.

A man who looked exactly like the photo said, ‘Yeah, but it’s not as exciting as young Jason makes out.’ He extended a hand across the table and I shook it. ‘Bob,’

he said.

‘He’s my boss,’ Jason explained.

‘What line of work you in?’ Bob asked.

I told them and everybody’s eyes glazed over.

‘And what about you guys?’ I asked. ‘What sort of cops are you? Homicide? Vice?’

‘We work for the Ethical Standards department,’ said Bob. ‘We keep the bastards honest.’

Holy shit. Farquhar was trying to set up Ethical Standards. Was he insane?

A few of the cops were talking about going out but no one could decide on where to go. The casino? St Kilda? They kept drinking and it was doubtful they’d get it together to go anywhere.

Jason went to buy more drinks and I moved into his seat, right next to Bob Lange.

I flirted like I never had before, asking him about work, star sign, laughing at his jokes and playing with my hair. It was Olympic level stuff, Chloe would have been proud.

Bob was getting into it, boasting about cases he’d worked in major crimes a few years before. He wore a wedding ring but never mentioned a wife or kids. Jason could hardly get a word in and started sulking. The group became drunk and loud, got the piano player to do requests and sang along to ‘Piano Man’ and ‘American Pie’. Bob bought me champagnes and I drank half and poured the rest into a fake palm.

At quarter to eleven the barman called last drinks.

Most had peeled off to go to bed but a couple of diehards headed off to Crown Casino. Bob, Jason and me were left. I’d made sure my leg was touching Bob’s under the table and he had actually said: ‘You have beautiful eyes. Have you ever done any modelling?’

The bar closed.

‘Let’s go out,’ Jason whined.

‘I don’t think I’m up for a big one,’ I said. ‘Why don’t we go to my room and get stuck into the minibar? Company’s paying.’

Jason brightened up, and I saw him and Bob exchange a meaningful look.

I let us into the room and poured them both a scotch and ice. Jason found some music on the clock radio beside the bed and I popped a half bottle of champagne and opened a packet of salted peanuts. I was starving.

Bob sat on the desk chair and leaned back, loosening his tie. Jason was on the double bed. He said: ‘I have to tell you, Simone. Bob and I, we come as a team.’

He looked at Bob and they both grinned. ‘Remember Brisbane?’

‘How could I forget?’ said Bob. ‘Now that was teamwork.’

‘What happened in Brisbane?’ I perched on the edge of the desk and looked from one to the other.

Bob clasped his hands behind his head.

‘Let’s just say we had a wonderful time with a delightful young lady fascinated by law enforcement.’