[right][sub]__________
𝙿𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕 𝚂𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎
𝚂𝚘𝚒𝚛é𝚎  
𝟼𝟿 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝
𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚊, 𝚆𝙸 
__________ [/sub][/right]

[centre] [url= https://youtu.be/LNX4Bl4T1q0?si=kkFuFcZjoY3NmV8T] 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔[/url] [/centre]

Pearl could tell from the doorway that the boy was dead. Proper dead. Dead dead. No doubt about that. His eyes bulged blood-shot from their sunken sockets and his jaw hung slack like a garden swing. She thought to herself, as Dixie flapped incoherently in the hallway behind her, how even fully grown men looked infantile when stark-bollock naked. [i]Somethin’ ‘bout that flaccid penis all shrivelled and limp from the cold[/i]. But instead of running free in the back yard as a young clothe-less whippersnapper, this naked body was contorted and entangled like dirty laundry, his final breath freeze-framed and tied in a knot.

Pearl moved into Dixie’s room, Roger stepping beside her. His expressionless stare had a hint of disapproval about it, piggy eyes looking down upon the deceased. Dixie had begun begging from the corridor, pointedly not re-entering the scene of the crime. Her incessant mews of mercy grated on Pearl’s waning patience, peeling away at her thin veil of composure like moulding wallpaper. 

[quote] “[i]That’s enough, Dixie.[/i]” Her tone was clipped and razor-sharp. It cut the tail end of the whore’s apology like a hot knife on butter.[/quote]

Mouth opening and shutting like a guppy, her continual stream of excuses turned silent, as if Pearl had thumbed the mute button on a remote control. Pearl released the breath she’d been holding, sharply exhaling through flared nostrils. Her palms smoothed down the non-existent wrinkles in her dress as she paced the circumference of the death bed. The Madam’s inner cogs whirred with the formulation of a neanderthal plan, but a plan nonetheless, the sense of urgency bubbling in the pit of her stomach. This unravelling was one she wished to abort. So she compiled the next steps the only way she knew how…

𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝟷: 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚘𝚍𝚢

𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝟸: 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚛

𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝟹: 𝙶𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚡𝚒𝚎 𝚊 𝙻𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚢

It was a simple plan, in theory. The nuances of each step were where the complications resided. Roge would deal with the body, as he always did. It was best not to ask questions about that particular step of the plan. The less Pearl knew, the better. Step 2 was the one she begrudged the most. She loathed to call the Cleaner. This custodial artist was not the type who adorned a headscarf, a caddy of bleach and a feather duster. She was a professional whose expertise was in neutralising a scene just like this one. No one could clean the streets like Winnie. And boy, did she know it. Her price bordered on unaffordable. Her demeanour intolerable. But she worked fast and she worked thorough. Pearl would begrudgingly pay the price twice over for her silence as well as her skill. The Madam’s hand was hovered over the rotary telephone, the receiver asleep in its cradle, awaiting a rude awakening when Roger cleared his throat gruffly from the bedside. 

[quote] “[i]Madam P[/i],” he was staring uninterrupted at the swollen eyeballs of Dixie’s unwilling victim, tone flat and blunt as a spoon. “[i]This is the Genovese boy[/i].”[/quote] 

The lungs of the room deflated. Oxygen was vacuumed from every inch. Pearl clenched so tight she may well have chewed through her molars, right down to the gum. A nerve ticked in her jaw. Something animalistic rumbled in her throat. She shook with the struggle of containing the wrath that filled her from head to stilettos. Dixie hadn’t just snuffed out a seedy John with a drip of a wife and runt children. That man wouldn’t be missed. Not by many, anyway. That man was a nobody who simply had a feel for fingers round his thick, unimportant neck. No, the stupid whore had asphyxiated Tony Genovese’s prodigal son. The apple of his goddamn eye. This was not a corpse weighted with bricks and easily launched into the river, sinking and forgotten. How long would it take for Tony to notice his precious boy was missing? And did Daddy know all about his love for lack of breath?… Either way, Pearl’s plan had already hit a blockade at Step 1. One hand still lingering over the receiver, the other gripping the dresser so tight the wood creaked like old bones, she struggled to get a lid on the vat of her radioactive rage. 

[quote] “[i]Oh god, no, Pearly![/i]” Dixie wailed in a shrilly nasal tone, skin turning off-white and tinged with green like grass stains. “[i]I didn’t know Luca was - He’s a Genovese?! - He didn’t say he[/i] -“ [/quote] 

Her broken protests of innocence hung in the air, unfinished and futile. Roger, having reluctantly identified the cadaver, made himself scarce in the name of preparation. He had arrangements to make, after all. Tools to gather. Reinforcements to conscript. He left the Madam and her babbling whore in the bedroom, alone with poor lifeless Luca. Pearl lifted a shaky hand, pinched the bridge of her nose, and squeezed her eyes shut so tight her vision bubbled with kaleidoscopic spots. Perhaps if she squeezed hard enough she’d awaken in her bed? The nightmare of a dead mob boss son just a sick subconscious trick. But the inconsolable sobs of her murderous babydoll prevented that wish from coming true, anchoring her in this morbid reality. Two candlesticks of snot dripped from Dixie’s nostrils and mascara ran like oil streaks down her cheeks. The Madam wrapped her fingers around an empty rocks glass, an innocent bystander on the dresser, and propelled it through the air aiming poorly for the wall behind Dixie’s head. She showered raindrops of splintered glass into the corridor, piglet squeals of protest squeezed from the babydolls throat.

[quote]“[i]QUIET[/i]!” Pearly bellowed, banshee-like. Breathing ragged like a rabid street mutt, the Madam pointed a trembling finger and lowered her voice to a chilling almost-whisper. “[i]Get in here. Now. Get your flat ass in here and strip. We’ll be burning that goddamn dress. And his clothes. Find them. Give them to the Cleaner when she gets here. And shut your noise, Dixie. I don’t wanna hear a peep outta you from here on out. Not a peep, ya hear? Your fuss is useless to me and I have a fucking phone call to make. Alright?[/i]”[/quote] 

Spittle bubbled in the corners of Pearl’s rosebud lips, eyes wild as wind and tone tight with the promise of threats just begging to be kept. Dixie obliged, wobbling an obedient entrance like a fresh, membrane-slicked foal. Her heels pricked the faded carpet, knees knobbling and rickety with fear. Turning her back, the phone receiver was cool against Pearl’s piping hot flesh. Her index finger was barely steady enough to dial in the Cleaner’s number, fingering the too-small holes and rotating the faceplate incorrectly twice before successfully inputting the right digits. The dialling tone rung out like a heart monitor, a metronome to Dixie’s striptease, Pearly’s heart fluttering like a caged bird in her chest as she waited. And waited. This. This was the life of a downtown Madam. It wasn’t just counting bills, taking a rake and managing the wayward girls. Though that was challenge enough. It was cleaning up messes, trading secrets under the counter, playing Johns and Pigs like poker and knowing when to delegate the damn job. The Cleaner picked up on the 4th ring.

[quote] “[i]Winnie’s Wash. How can I help you?”[/i] the voice was groggy with sleep. Crackling like a vinyl from smoking 40 a day.[/quote]

[quote] “[i]Winifred. It’s Pearl[/i].”[/quote]

A long sigh whistled down the phone.

[quote] “[i]Pleasure’s all mine, Winnie. Trust me. I ain’t pleased to be punching in your number, neither.[/i]”[/quote]

Pearl heard the squeak of rusted bedsprings in the background as the Cleaner no doubt adjusted herself in bed.

[quote] “[i]Call-out fee? At this hour? It ain’t gon’ be cheap, Pearl. Whadya need?[/i]”[/quote]

Dixie stood in nothing but her high heels, cradling a bundle of clothes in her arms like a swaddled newborn, a mixture of her dress and the dead mob boss son’s suit. Goosebumps pricked her bare breasts, pebbled nipples wobbling with cold. Clueless. The girl had no idea the lengths Pearl would have to go to in order to make this thing go away. 

[quote] “[i]End of tenancy clean[/i],” Pearl gritted out, head turning to face Luca spread-eagled atop the bed, then shooting a pointed look at the naked girl in the middle of the room.[/quote]

[quote] “[i]That urgent?[/i]”[/quote]

[quote] “[i]Urgent enough for me to be callin’ you, ain’t it? Tenant left in a hurry. Left their room in a right state. Somethin’ only you can deal with.[/i]”[/quote]

A throaty chuckle, loosened with flattery.

[quote] “[i]I’ll be 20 minutes. Invoice is gonna be made out for a couple stacks and a few C’s. Is the back door unlocked for me?”[/i][/quote]

[quote] “[i]Always unlocked for you, Winifred[/i]” she purred.[/quote]

Another sigh.

[quote] “[i]Winifred ain’t even my guvvy, Pearl. Just Winnie will do fine[/i].”[/quote]

And the line was disconnected with a click. 

Returning the mouthpiece to its cradle, Pearl took a moment to regain some sense of control. She felt clammy. Clumsy. Messily emotional. But the plan was back in motion. Winnie was on her way, Roger had returned with an extra pair of hands, Dixie was finally silent. Soon, this body would be buried along with the secret of his tragic circumstances. Once the technicalities were handled, and they would indeed be handled, Madam could resume business as usual. She just had to make sure Dixie’s lips were stitched shut. The ones in her face, anyway. The others had some debts to repay. Winnie’s Cleaning fee would be a good start. Pearl nodded her head in approval as the scene unfolded before her, the acidic adrenaline slowly dissipating with every second. She felt behind the wheel again, shifting down gears and pumping brakes. This was fine. Everything was fine. It would all be… Fine. As her heart rate slowed, she became abundantly aware of all the [i]feeling[/i] she’d been doing. She craved the nothingness, the numbness, that only a bit of white or a drop of amber at the bottom of a glass could bring her. The Siren called from the basement, her lure hypnotic with its promise of sweet relief. Following her call, Pearl sashayed past Roger and Dixie’s shaking naked body, tiptoeing down the stairs with a satisfied smile on her face. Satisfied? Maybe. Deluded? Definitely.

Soirée, with its utopian anti-sanctuary, remained predictably unscathed from the chaos overhead. The bustling basement bar welcomed her home with a motherly embrace. Liquor-soaked carpets and intoxicating cigarette smoke filled Pearl’s nostrils and she gladly breathed it in, letting it loosen her rigid bones and cardboard posture. She glided across the bar, zigzagging through tables illuminated with conversation. Approaching the bartender with a commanding smirk, she signalled for a glass of bourbon with a dismissive flick of her wrist. The cracked leather seat atop the stool crisped beneath her weight, flaking like dandruff. And when the bourbon found its way into her grasp, she drained it like lovers reuniting. Eyelids fluttering shut with the sweet release, she barely savoured the moment before sliding the empty glass back to the bartender. She nodded. He nodded.

[quote] “[i]That Joe McGabhann fella was here earlier, Madam P[/i]” the barkeep said, replenishing the lipstick-stained glass with unspoken obligation. “[i]Says he was lookin’ for the McClusky brothers. Said to send his regards to ya.[/i]”[/quote]

Pearl opened one eye, arching a brow. How dare he interrupt her meditation? The Blues guitarist on the Soirée stage plucked distorted, warbling notes. Heavy-handed drum beats reverberating the last of the adrenaline from Pearly’s bones. Her head lolled back, allowing the wail of the guitar to coat her skin. 

[quote] “[i]Phone his dodgy veterinary clinic and tell him to speak to Lola Rose,[/i]” she mumbled, both eyes closing tight shut again, an attempt to retreat into the bottom of the glass. “[i]She used to see the skinny one. Tell him to swing by...[/i]” A sigh fluttered the strands of hair that fell in front of her face. “[i]I’ll give the dog a bone. Long as he fetches me a lil’ treat. Tell him I like that morphine he keeps nice and chilled.[/i]”[/quote]

She exhaled long and hard. Silence fell. With a curt nod of acknowledgment, she was administered another refill. Sipping on this one, Pearl waited for the Cleaner to arrive. Her eyes strayed to where Winnie would soon emerge from the back entrance. Then, the plan could resume. Until then, the Madam swilled the smokey bourbon around her teeth, swallowing it back with a satisfied gasp.