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

Little opals of condensation beaded across the mildew-framed window, leaving snail trails glistening in their wake as they skated across the rink of a grey landscape beyond. Echoed indents of sequins like scales on her skin, Pearly Sackville rose from her pit in slow motion, each movement only a droplet easier than the last. Her faulty memories of the night before hung drying in a darkroom, pegged at their corners, sun-bleached and dripping with residual development chemicals. She winced as she remembered Roger leading her upstairs like a horse to slaughter. How he'd placed his boot over her bag of coke and ignored her pertinence. How he'd cradled her then lifted her into bed like an overtired toddler. Pearl wished she'd drunk that little bit more to prevent any recollection whatsoever. After all, photographs were best developed in blackout. She gritted her teeth as the cool water cut across her skin. She bit back tears as a wire brush with missing beads on the bristles ran its fangs through her hair. The Madam slowly pieced whatever was left of herself back together.

[quote] [i]"Now, now my precious Pearly Girl," her mother had said all those years ago, the cherry of her cigarette dancing in the darkness of that dimly lit room. Plumes of smoke had hung around them like ghosts. "One day I ain't gon' be here to do every damn thing in this place. Lord knows I ain't plannin' on livin' til I shrivel and prune like some crone sat in her bathwater too long... Naw, I'm gon' die young and pretty. And when I do? This'll aaaaaall be down to you, m'kay? The bar, the business, the girls... It'll be yours, alright? And when it is, Pearly Girl, when it is all yours? I want you to be goddamn good and ready. None of this 'happy families' horseshit. These girls ain't your friends. They ain't your sisters. They ain't even your colleagues. You don't belong with them. They belong to you. You understand that, don't you[/i]?" [/quote]

If only Pearl's memories of her mother's words would fade as quickly as those she drowned in whiskey and cocaine night after night. Still the woman's ashen voice, crackling as it fried in spitting oil, resonated so clearly between her ears. When Pearl eventually concluded herself ready for public consumption, the Madam clicked her bedroom door open and peered through the slither between door and frame. The corridor was desolate, deserted and dark, save for the single piano key of mid-morning dusk that pushed past her across the landing. She wore a black slip dress, straps so thin they hung loosely from her jutting clavicles. The hem skirted the top of her knees with a devastating slit that chiselled up her thigh. The powder she'd puffed across her skin clung to her peach fuzz and dusky blush bloomed as it kissed the apples of her cheeks. Pearl walked the length of the empty corridor, listening for the sound of another soul haunting the empty whorehouse at this hour. Just when she'd accepted she was probably alone, the sound of wood splintering made her head turn to cast a look like a fishing line over her shoulder. The bare face of Minnie Tyrell, Pearl's youngest babydoll, poked out from behind her bedroom door. The girl was still shrouded in sleep, stubby lashes flickering at the sight of her Madam patrolling the corridors so early. Freckles dotted across Minnie's button nose like flecks of cocoa powder. Her smooth skin looked pulled oh-so-taught across her angular face, fighting gravity far better than the loosened jowls at Pearl's own jawline.  

[quote] "[i]Miss P?[/i]" Minnie mumbled, her lips smacking together blearily. "[i]It's payday today, right?[/i]"[/quote]

For a moment there was no sound save for the hiss of air in the old Soirée pipes until Pearl clicked her tongue impatiently.

[quote] "[i]First of the month, Minnie-[/i]" she drawled. "[i]Comes round on the 1st of every month, same as last month, last I checked. So once you girls have got your lazy asses out of bed, your money'll be ready for you. In my office. Get some clothes on and I'll see you there.[/i]"[/quote]

And with that, she turned on her kitten heels and disappeared downstairs to her office, blinds clattering against glass as she slammed the door behind her. The girls had to gather in that office once a month to collect their earnings. Often shaking palms outstretched, eagerly awaiting the weight of a single brown envelope. A few days before, Pearl would comb through the books, compiling each of the girls' monthly wages by separating out their share from the daily takings. Then, she'd deduct her cut. If the babydolls didn't turn up to collect, the envelope would be retuned to the safe. There were 6 girls who currently lived at Soirée, Pearl's girls, and another 10 part-timers would rent a room for a few hours here and there. The rental fees were payable to the Madam and that, plus Pearl's standard percentage, would be deducted from the pay packets. All of the girls would arrive on the 1st to collect their little brown cushion that was counted and skimmed by Pearl. They'd be grateful. They'd be polite. A flurry of perfume and costume jewellery would soon fill the office, each of the little lambs lined up one by one. The Madam dropped to her knees by the safe and dialled in the code, waiting to hear that whispered click of approval before swinging the heavy door open and stacking the envelopes next to her. A soft knock on the door told her the girls were arriving. 

[quote] "[i]Come on in![/i]" Pearl called, cradling the envelopes and settling behind her desk. [/quote]

Minnie was the first to enter. She wore an oversized t-shirt and running shorts with no shoes. Approaching the desk somewhat sheepishly, the young girl's eyes were lowered to avoid Pearl's steely gaze. Minnie and Dixie had been close. Dixie had somewhat taken the young thing under her wing, offering her undoubtedly terrible advice and showing her the ropes of Soirée. Her hand extended, flinching at the sound of the rest of Soirées whores filing in through the office door, Minnie looked infantile next to the others.

[quote] "[i]Thank you, Miss P[/i]" she said softly, inclining her head as the money was lowered into her palm. [/quote]

Then came the barrage of thank yous, each of them followed by hurriedly retreating steps.

[quote] "[i]Thanks, Miss Pearl[/i]." [/quote]

[quote] "[i]Thank you, Pearl.[/i][/quote]

[quote] "[i]Pleasure doin' business with you, Miss P[/i].[/quote]

[quote] "[i]Same time next month, huh? Thanks so much Miss Pearl.[/i]" [/quote]

And then they were gone. 

None stayed to exchange pleasantries. There was no small talk nor idle chit chat. The whores came to collect their money then got right on back to working. Pearl sighed. Sobriety clung to her like wet wool on damp skin and every inch of her twinged as she ran a hand through her curls. Just as she was about to stumble downstairs to the bar for her first of many drinks that day, there was another knock at the door. It lacked the hesitancy of the babydolls and it was surely not Roger's signature raps. This knock belonged to someone who hadn't graced Soirée before. Someone who didn't care to wait for permission. Before she had a chance to grant them entry, the door swung open, slamming against the dry wall behind it. The creak of the office door revealed someone the Madam reluctantly recognised. His thick, jet black locks were slicked back like engine oil. Unkempt black brows like two caterpillars sat above his shark eyes. A pinstriped three piece suit, pressed and starched to perfection then drenched in cologne, encapsulated a barely-contained belly and a gold chain snagging on wiry chest hairs. Tony Genovese stood wide-legged and broad shouldered. His eyes scraped along the length of the office before landing on Pearl who sat rigid behind her desk. She breathed back the wind of fear that whistled up from her toes, lifting the hairs on her arms, pinching her lips together as she returned the Wop's arrowhead of a stare. Two more men were stood behind him though they didn't enter. Instead they guarded either side of the office door like stony gargoyles. 

The two of them stared at one another from across the room. Pearl wondered if Tony could smell the perspiration that beaded in her armpits. She exhaled, pushing her chair back from the bureau desk, folding one leg over the other. 

[quote] [i]"Tony Genovese,"[/i] she said slowly, a lyrical lilt embellishing his surname. [i]"Soirée don't open 'til a lil later... But I'll see if one of the girls would be willing to make an exception..."[/i][/quote]

Disgust tugged at one corner of his lips. He holds up his left hand demonstratively, the wink of his wedding ring sufficing as an answer.

[quote][i] "I'm not here to catch somethin' nasty off one of your whores, Pearl" [/i]Tony sneered. [i]"Matter of fact. I usually wouldn't be caught dead steppin' foot into this cesspit. But I think you know damned well why I'm here."[/i] [/quote]

The Madam widened her eyes in mocking innocence, clicking her nail extensions on the desk as she feigned curiosity, channelling her years of experience repressing fear and theatrically displaying a false confidence. Was the skill so refined that it would fool Tony? She wasn't sure. Yet still, the Madam forced a smile on her face and raised her chin.

[quote] [i]"Cesspit? Ouch. Tony, I sell pussy and liquor. You're happily married and there's plenty good bars your side of town. So if you want neither of those, what can I possibly do for you?"[/i][/quote]

To his credit, Tony moved fairly quickly despite his size. He was looming over the desk with a reddened face far quicker than Pearl would've guessed. Her hand hovered instinctively over her garter, the pistol's metal warmed against the flesh of her thighs. Roger wouldn't be arriving at work for another hour or so. She found herself begging to see his shiny bald head rounding the corner. Tony's breath smelt like an ash tray filled with espresso. His palms were flat against the top of the bureau desk, torso reaching over to deepen his glare. Could he see her resist a recoil? Could he hear her debating her next move frantically in a brain fogged by last nights whiskey? Could he sense the remnants of his son's presence in the rooms overhead?

[quote] [i]"My skin's itchin' just by settin' foot in here. I'll be bathing in bleach when I get home, tell you that. Best believe I wouldn't be stupid enough to put a single dime in your pocket, Pearl. Believe me. Not a fuckin' dime. But my son? Oh, man. My son didn't have the same sense. And look where that got him."[/i][/quote]

There was something beastly about Tony Genovese. The hair on his knuckles. The bulging of his eyes. The twitch of a heartbeat thickening a vein in his thick neck. How had he found out so quickly? Which of the girls had snitched? Had Dixie gone running straight to him? Hoping her honesty would spare her? 

[quote] [i]"This is the part where you beg, Pearl..."[/i] Tony hissed, flecks of spittle whetting her cheeks. [i]"This is the part where you realise you ain't wrigglin' your way out of this one. You can't sweet talk me. You can't sell me nothin'. I'm immune to you. Cos I ain't one of your stinking' Johns, am I? I ain't one of your whores. I sure as hell ain't one of the small timers runnin' their gear through here so they feel some need to pander to your bullshit. This ain't somethin' you can throw money at and it'll go away. You [b]took[/b] somethin' from me, Pearl. [b]My boy. My fuckin' SON.[/b] And now? Now I've come to collect."[/i][/quote]

The Madam stayed silent. It felt as if the office were shrinking to the size of a broom cupboard and Tony Genovese's belly was pressing hard against her, back forced against the cobwebbed walls. Her lungs simply wouldn't fill. Was there even any air between them? Was it Tony stood over her or the body of Luca Genovese with his bulbous eyes and slack jaw? They shared the same eyes... Then a hand really was gripping her throat. There? It found no resistance. The gargled gasps that leapt from her mouth only wound Tony's fingers tighter and tighter still. She could smell cigarettes on his fingertips. His chunky gold-linked bracelet tinkered as he adjusted his grip around her neck, firming the grasp. No one had dared threaten Pearl Sackville in such a long time. No one got close enough to lay a hand on her. That was the way she'd built Soirée. So how had this happened? How was she on the receiving end of a threat as callous as this one when she was usually the one with a finger on the trigger? The illusion of power and wealth and protection kept most wolves of Minnenoona at the Soirée door. Not this one. Tony Genovese and his family didn't fear the Madam nor any of her hired muscle, that much was clear. He saw what she feared she really was: Powerless. Vulnerable. Manipulable. Weak.

[quote] [i]"I came here to see if you'd have even an ounce of decency left in you," [/i]he spoke with a snarl, molars creaking as they ground together. [i]"Came to see if you wanted to apologise to me. Might've made it easier for you, you know that? Instead you tried pullin' the same bullshit you pull with these other schmucks. Well, I'm done. I know it was you. I know what you did. And when I come back in a couple days, I'm gonna tell you exactly how this is gonna go. Don't worry. Your bag of bones ain't gonna be floatin' in no river. No. Killin' you is more hassle than it's worth. Too much heat. You got too many pigs in your pockets. No, killin' you would be a kindness."[/i] [/quote]

When his fingers relinquished her throat, Pearly gasped and wheezed and coughed and spluttered. Tears blurred the sight of Tony's pinstriped body walking away. He got to the door and turned round to fix her with another disdainful grimace. 

[quote] [i]"Didn't your mother die right there? In that same spot? Face down on that fuckin' desk? Be poetic if you joined her the same way wouldn't it? Shame. I'll be back in a couple days,"[/i] he sniffed, voice colder and calmer now. [i]"And this time you'll be ready for me.[/i]" [/quote]