Stilettos & Stubble (6 page)

‘Well then, I
think you’re over-reacting.  He
definitely
didn’t think you were a
transvestite.  I reckon you’re just being touchy.  You should give him a call -
see what the job’s all about.  What have you got to lose?’

The previous day,
as I’d been sitting outside the café, if someone had suggested that idea to me
I may well have decked them.  But, after a day of battling with my crap
manuscript and realising it wasn’t going to lead to my financial salvation, I
could begin to see that Tom was making sense.  And the minute the words had
left his lips, Bogey jumped onto his lap and looked deep in to his eyes.

Tom laughed and
stroked his ears.  ‘See?  Even the cat agrees with me.’

I didn’t dare
tell him about Bogey’s flick of the card or the perceived wink of his eye -
he’d think I was quite mad - but it did seem as if my moggy agreed with Tom and
it was quite extraordinary to see him connecting with a gentleman caller in a
way he’d never done before.

So maybe they
both had a point.  Or was that just the delicious wine mellowing me and
tempting me to see the bright side?

I topped our
glasses up and sat cross-legged on the sofa.  ‘I suppose you’re right, you
two.  After all, what’s the worst that can happen?’

‘He could ask you
how you get your tits to look so realistic!’  Tom risked a joke at my expense
and I chucked a cushion at him, sending Bogey and a glass of wine flying.

But as we both
sat there laughing, I realised I’d come to a decision.  Tomorrow I would pay
Annie and ‘The Gossamer Glove’ a visit.

Chapter
Six

It was a tiny
little building tucked away in a cobbled road off the main high street. 
Directly opposite was an ancient looking pub called, rather aptly, ‘The Queen’s
Head’.  They were both so secluded that it made me wonder how anyone ever came
across them.

My heart sank - it
was a crap tranny bar which probably never saw any clientele and the salary
would be peanuts.  What on earth had I been thinking?

Pulling my bag
further onto my shoulder, I began to cross the road to the pub.  The journey
had been a waste of time but I was desperate for a cool drink and decided to
treat myself to a Coke.

As I sat at the
bar, nursing my glass, I pulled out my mobile to call Tom.  It would usually
have been Mia that I’d touch base with but, if I was totally honest, I was
still feeling a little miffed with her about my novel.  And she had no idea
that I was considering a job in a club so Tom seemed the natural choice.

He answered after
a couple of rings.  ‘Hi Perce!  How did it go?’

‘Oh Tom, I didn’t
go in.  I’m in the pub opposite having a drink.’

‘Percy, get
yourself in there this minute.  Where have the balls gone that you grew last
night?’

I laughed at his daft
joke but continued, ‘Tom, I’m not going in there.  Honestly, it looks like an
absolute
dive
.  There’s no way on earth I could work there.’

I was waiting for
Tom’s response when I became aware of a soft coughing behind me.  I turned and
looked into the eyes of Annie, this time with more than a hint of make up.

‘A word, if I
may?’ he asked.

I mumbled a
hurried goodbye to Tom and clicked my mobile shut, turning fully towards Annie.

He cleared his
throat again and looked at me with a hint of coldness in his eyes.  ‘I know we
only met for a couple of minutes the other day but I didn’t have you down as
someone who judged a book by its cover.  You surprise me.’

I felt myself
blush.  He’d heard my comment to Tom about his club and I’d hurt his feelings. 
I opened my mouth to speak but he raised a hand to hush me, adding, ‘At least
have the decency to see what’s on the
inside
before you pass judgement. 
It’s only fair, isn’t it?’  And he turned on his heel and sashayed out of the
pub.

I sat for a while
letting the truth of his words sink in.  Hadn’t that always been my own
philosophy?  Wasn’t I crying out for people to take more notice of the
inside
of me?

I sipped at my
Coke and hung my head in shame.

*****

It was with great
trepidation that I made my way down the uneven stone steps to the basement entrance. 
A tiny doorbell nestled amongst the trailing ivy and I took a deep breath
before pressing it, fluffing up my hair and pulling myself up to my full
height.  I still wasn’t quite sure what I was doing there but I felt I owed it
to Annie and partly to myself.  I’d come this far anyway, what did I have to
lose?

He opened the
creaky door after a few seconds and stepped back to allow me into the small,
dark entrance hall.  ‘Oh, you decided to risk life and limb and come and have a
nosey, did you?  Not such a
dive
inside, is it?’ he gestured towards the
surroundings with a theatrical flourish.

I struggled to
get my eyes into focus after the glare of the bright sunshine outside.  It was
like stepping into another world - a gloriously camp Aladdin’s Cave which
belied the dingy exterior.

In the corner of
the small hallway was a totally over-the-top padded reception desk in scarlet velvet,
complete with a gilded throne à la Beckham.  An old fashioned cream and gold
telephone took pride of place, along with a huge black satin notebook and
feathered pen - the scene almost set for a courtesan’s boudoir.  The walls were
in blood red satin and featured ornately framed photos of drag acts surrounded
by dressing room lights.  A coat stand was laden with feather boas, negligees
and various flimsy undergarments - clearly for show, they were there to
tantalise, not to be worn by the men who trod the boards there.

The air was thick
with the scent of femininity and, for some strange reason, the song ‘Lipstick,
Powder and Paint’ began to play in my head.  I’d never set my size nines in a
place like it in my life and I stood in silence, taking in every last detail,
drinking in the atmosphere.

I turned to
Annie, his hands on his slim hips and a hint of a smile playing on his lips as
he studied me.  ‘
Gorge
, isn’t it?’ he said.  ‘It’s taken me years to get
it looking like this and there’s never a day goes by that I don’t get a little
thrill in my heart when I come through that door.’

His face softened
as he spoke and I could sense his pride oozing from every well groomed pore.  I
finally found my voice, although it was a little squeakier than usual and I spoke
the words I never thought I’d
actually
have to say.  ‘I’m not a man, you
know.  I’m not looking for a
gig
, or whatever it is you people call
it.’  I closed my eyes and dropped my head - I’d said it and now I dreaded his
response.

I was greeted
with a raucous laugh - a laugh that told of a thousand fags and gallons of
booze.  ‘A
man
! 
You
thought
I
thought you were a man?  Oh
Doll!  You soppy cow, of course I didn’t think you were a man!’  He took his
hands in mine and looked me squarely in the eyes.  ‘
You
my babe, are a
fine looking specimen of womanhood and you’re going to remember the day you
were taken in hand by ‘The Gossamer Glove’ for the rest of your life.’

*****

Annie and I moved
through to the miniscule back office and he sat me down amongst paperwork, wigs
and other female paraphernalia.

‘Drink?’  He held
out a bottle of brandy.  ‘You look like you could do with one.’

I nodded and took
the huge retro glass he offered me, grateful for something to steady my
nerves.  Annie pulled up a seat close to me and rested his hand on my knee.  It
was a comforting gesture and I felt myself relax.

‘You’ve had a bit
of a time of it, haven’t you?  I can see it - very tuned in, I am.  Well, it’s
time to put all that crap behind you and move on.  Trussssst in me!’  He did a
bad job of the snake in ‘Jungle Book.’

I took a huge
glug of my drink and let out an inelegant splutter.  After I’d composed myself
I looked at Annie and shook my head with a frown. ‘I don’t understand.  What is
it you want
me
to do here?  What possible use could I be?’

‘
You
my
babe are going to be my new right hand woman.  The balls behind the poof!  I’m
hopelessly disorganised and I need a Girl Friday and I reckon you’d fit the
bill very nicely.’

‘Girl Friday?  I
don’t know the first thing about …’ I struggled to find the right words.  ‘Well,
about drag queens or clubs.  I’d be rubbish.’

Annie threw
himself back in his chair and ran his hand over his bald head.  ‘Now hush your
mouth with that negative bull.  I
know
you can do this job - I’m not
gonna take a risk on another bloody bimbo who thinks she’s hit a cushy number
in the glamorous world of entertainment.  Do you
know
how many
tits-in-a-trance I’ve employed in the last year?  Have you any idea how
stressful that’s been for me?’  A tear began to form in his eye and his voice
cracked.

I shook my head, slightly
taken aback by his dramatic performance.

‘I’ll
tell
you how many. 
Six
!  Six dopey trollops who didn’t have a clue and had
no intention of learning the ropes.  Half of them spent the night flirting with
the straight punters and the other half could barely string a sentence
together, let alone understand the vulgarity of gay humour.  
Tamara,
Gawd bless her little peroxide roots, left me in the lurch on New Year’s Eve
because she walked in on one of the guys tucking his bits away.  I mean, WTF,
babe!  Where did she think she was working?  In a sodding convent?’

He was really getting
into his stride now and pacing as much as the confined office would allow,
gesticulating wildly and becoming louder and louder.  He suddenly stopped and pointed
at me.  ‘But
you
! 
You
are different.  I can see it.’  He stretched
his arm out and then brought his index finger to the centre of his head,
placing it between his artfully plucked eyebrows.  ‘I can see it with my third
eye.’  He closed his eyes and shuddered, leaving me unsure whether he’d gone
off into some sort of odd trance.

He quickly
recovered and smiled brightly at me.  ‘So?  What do you say?  Fancy climbing
aboard the fag train and having the ride of your life?  I pay well.  OK, I’ll
work your bollocks off - pardon the pun - but you’ll have a fantabulosa time.’ 
He dropped to his knees and looked up at me with puppy-dog eyes.  ‘Say “Yes”. 
Say “Yes Annie.  I’d love to”.’

I looked down at
him, a million and one thoughts running through my head all at once but none of
them coming out of my mouth.  It was possibly the most surreal moment of my
life and I was stunned into silence.

He stood and sat
back on the seat next to me, looking a little huffy.  ‘What’s up?  Pussy got
your tongue?  I haven’t just put on the performance of a lifetime for you to
sit there and say bugger all.  Speak to me.’

I cleared my
throat and tried to construct a suitable reply.  ‘Look … I’m really flattered
that you think I could do the job.  Honestly I am, but … you don’t know the
first thing about me.  You don’t even know my name.  It’s … well, it just doesn’t
feel right.’

‘Right
schmight!’  He jumped up again and started up his pacing once more.  ‘So I
don’t know your name.  Big deal!  You don’t know
mine.
  I’m not
really
called Annie you know.’

I chuckled
despite myself and said, ‘My name’s Percy - well Persephone, but I hate it.’

And out came the throaty
laugh again.  ‘
Persephone
?  No wonder you bloody hate it, you poor cow! 
Well,
Percy
, do you want to work for me or not?  I know your name
now
,
so what’s your excuse this time?’

As job interviews
went it was right up there as the most peculiar but I began to feel the
slightest fizz of excitement.  It certainly wouldn’t be a boring place to work
and he’d said it paid well.  Maybe if I just found out a little more about what
it entailed.  Surely that couldn’t hurt?

Annie was
impatient though - he wanted an answer and he wanted it there and then. 
‘Percy, Percy, Percy.’  He giggled again.  ‘Ooh, I love that you’ve got a bloke’s
name and you’re really a girl!  See?  A marriage made in heaven.  What d’ya
say?’

I finished the
last of my brandy and held my glass out.  ‘I say get me another drink and then
talk me through the sort of things I’d need to do.’

He squealed and
ran to get the bottle and, as he seemed intent on giving me a treble, I
steadied his hand and added, ‘But it
doesn’t
mean I’ll say yes.  Just
that I’m prepared to listen.’

He winked at me
as he pulled his seat closer.  ‘Oh you’ll say yes, my love. 
Nobody
says
no to the fabulous Annie Vestite.’

*****

We sat and talked
for what seemed like hours.  I’d never drunk so much brandy in my life and my
brain was becoming fuzzy with the excess of alcohol and overload of
information.

He talked me
through everything - from my late afternoon duties right through to the evening
and my time on the front desk and phone.  From time to time I could envisage
myself doing the job and then he’d come up with yet another task and I could
see myself falling at the first hurdle.