[right][sub] __________ 𝙿𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕 𝚂𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎 𝚂𝚘𝚒𝚛é𝚎 𝟼𝟿 𝙶𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝙼𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚊, 𝚆𝙸 __________ [/sub][/right] Weakness has a scent; Gun mental grey in scarlet. A well-trained nose can smell that putrid weakness from across a room. All that salt-crusted sweat and shallow breath. Pearl Sackville knew that smell like second-hand smoke but when it caressed her nasal hairs this time it was because she caught whiffs of it oozing from her own pores, mixing with her liberally doused perfume. Her eyes flickered from the entrance of the Soirée bar to the stage, liquorice pupils dilating around a sea of drunken, faceless Johns rupturing and contorting with bellyache laughter. Pearl’s upper lip quivered, resisting a disdainful sneer. How dare these leeches behave so joyously when her own mind was plagued with ominous threats and imminent danger? Like salt upon a slug was the sting of her babydolls parading through the crowd, long-legged and slender-necked, sprinkling compliments like confetti down an aisle. They were working the room, tickling egos and tempting tantalisingly with their plunging necklines and half-smiles. The Soirée sirens glided from vessel to vessel, luring with their extended velvet arms and poised calloused hands ready to lead their victim to their murky depths. It should’ve made Pearl happy. The business was booming, the bar was flowing, the Blues artist she’d booked was captivating the attention of the few who were momentarily uninterested in her babydolls... But it was resentment that prickled her forearms and umbrage that raised the downy hair there with a rigidity that reminded her of her albeit misplaced anger. In the hours since she’d ordered Roger to double the muscle, the Madam had set up camp at her signature bar stool and seldom moved since (save for the odd toilet break) She forced a smile that verged on grimace, she knocked back Manhattans that didn’t taste as good as Sandy’s and she hoped her occasional teary eyes could be passed off as drunken puddling. But if anyone had noticed the Madam fraying at her edges, no one attempted to tug at the snag nor did they offer a patch to sew on and conceal the threadbare hole she proceeded to finger at and widen. As the whiskey within clawed at the underside of her hot skin, Pearl lacked her usual gravitas, finding herself stumbling through conversations with punters at the bar who inched away from her with hitched laughter and awkward side-steps. That metallic scent of weakness continued to linger around her, upturning the noses of those trained to scent it out. Roger lingered nearby noticeably more than usual, his piggy eyes scanning the room continually. [quote] “[i]Too goddamn late for alla that[/i]…” Pearl grumbled to herself under her breath, shooting him an inebriated sideways glance. [/quote] As she gulped back on her freshly lit cigar, the Madam turned when she felt another presence beside her. There stood Minnie, watching her warily as she collected a glass of champagne from the bar. As a child fearful of a nippy terrier may creep, Minnie’s shallow and narrow feet shoved into obnoxiously high platforms shuffled in a hesitant approach. [quote] “[i]Place is a gas tonight[/i],” Minnie said tentatively, forcing a weak smile as a chaser to her delicate chortle. [/quote] This was a bolshy attempt at appeasing her Madam from the young babydoll and Pearl knew it. Usually, if she were operating at full strength, she may have rebuffed the juvenile advances with something cutting and demeaning. Yet tonight, she let a lazily weak smile carve into her blood-red lips as she raised her glass, cigar balanced between two fingers, in mock salute. [quote] “[i]You gots that skinny fella on Table 41 givin’ you eyes, girl[/i]” the Madam said, her alert irises seeing beyond Minnie’s form even as it obscured her view. [/quote] The babydoll knew better than to turn around. Instead she cleared her throat and raised a brow. The Madam continued, nonchalantly sipping at her Manhattan. [quote] “[i]But them Thom McAns and loose fittin’ pants tell me if he can’t afford a tailor he certainly can’t afford you,[/i]” Pearl stated. Minnie bristled at the covert compliment. “[i]So if he’s gonna have a go, little lamb, make sure he pays up front first, alright?”[/i] [/quote] Minnie nodded eagerly, all wide-eyed and obedient, unaccustomed to her boss exchanging more than a handful of unpleasant words with her. Pearl clicked her tongue, winked and flashed a fiendish grin. [quote] “[i]Since our girl Dixie ain’t comin’ back, you should raise your prices, girl. Make the most of being the skinniest lil’ fawn round here these days[/i],” Pearl’s brows inched closer to her jet black hairline, poised as if she were sharing abundantly generous tidbits of wisdom. [/quote] The Gibson on stage had burst into a sultry solo, the fingers that plucked upon strings strummed out both sides of a conversation. Pearl’s head turned to watch, the hopeful first notes sparking her curiosity. That opening lick was posed like a question and was followed by a melodic response. Then, just as Tony’s fingers had curled around her neck that morning, the guitarist bent his fingertips around strings to choke those sad notes into an anguished whine. Minnie followed her Madam’s eyes to the performer and the two of them silently appreciated his artistry. For a moment, Pearl forgot her fear and was reminded that this was her house. Her home. As the musician bowed his head, honing his attention in on the Gibson’s neck with fingers tickling along the frets, Pearl exhaled a plume of cigar smoke and expelled her unease with it. [quote] “[i]Dixie ain’t say where it was she was goin’[/i]” Minnie said hesitantly, twirling a curl round her index. “[i]But she told me once she had an Aunt uptown that runs a diner she was always wantin’ her to work at…[/i]”[/quote] This commanded Pearl’s attention. She fixed her shark eyes on the babydoll, watching her wrestle internally with loyalty to her fellow working girl and the innate need to please her Mother. Minnie’s bottom lip quivered slightly, buckling as it deliberated sharing the whole story. Pearl said nothing. She let her silence coax the words out from the shadows. [quote] “[i]I only says that cos I saw them men this morning, Miss P. Them men talkin’ bout Luca. In your office? I’m sorry, I weren’t snoopin’ or nothin’. Just heard them. Saw them leavin’…[/i]” young Minnie sniffed, a flash of regret pinching at the corner of her eyes. “[i]And the girls, we’ve been hearin’ things. Nothin’ bad, naw. Just Roge has been asking us questions and I was thinkin’ “Why” all of a sudden… Then we put 2 and 1 together and… S-Some of us wanna help, Miss P? If we can, I mean… Maybe if Dixie can explain to them that this is all one big misunderstandin’? Maybe she can convince em-[/i]“[/quote] Pearl ran her tongue along the chapped red lipstick that coated her lower lip, a flash of pink against her porcelain white flesh. [quote] “[i]This diner, Minnie. This Aunt. You got a name?[/i]”[/quote] Drums kicked back in on stage as the Gibson slipped back into the fray, sibilance of snares and symbols, and the singer’s liquid tone juiced and flowed along a song about living each day like your last. The young whore blinked, realising it was her turn to speak again. She shook her head, wracking her brains so hard it became overt. A smog of suspicion crept across the Madam’s face and her lips became taut as a knot as they pinched together. Sensing herself falling, Minnie’s mouth opened and shut like butterfly wings. Then, the betrayal fluttered forth into the night. Dissipating with Pearl’s cigar smoke. [quote] “[i]I-I don’t remember for certain, Miss P. But I’m pretty sure she said real north-like. Edge of Minnenoona. And it’s just off the freeway so they called it Roadside Diner or somethin’…[/i]” she gulped at her glass of champagne with the thirst of a dog fresh from a walk. “[i]I could be dead wrong but that’s what I can remember! You think that’ll help? You think we can just get Dixie to explain this whole thing? Then maybe she can come back, huh? Earn her keep again. I gotta say, Dixie was real good with the-[/i]”[/quote] Pearl rose to her feet. Minnie halted. The Madam clinked her empty glass on the bar and took one final puff of her cigar. The sweet smoke billowed from her pursed lips as she kissed it goodbye. [quote] “[i]Thanks, lamb”[/i]Pearl sighed, a paper-cut smile appearing above her chin. “[i]When Dixie comes back, I’ll be sure to send her straight to you right after she cleans up this little mess[/i].”[/quote] Minnie smiled and nodded. [quote] “[i]Speakin’ of messes, Miss P, Dixie says that cleaner that came by was real sweet on her. Think she’ll come by regular now? Be nice to have someone tidyin’ up after us full time huh? Like a proper hotel?[/i]”[/quote] Soirée dialled right down to a slow-motion replay. Minnie’s lips were moving so laden, her blinks heavy-lidded, the Blues on stage sounded like it was playing somewhere 3 streets over as Pearl Sackville had a painfully delayed realisation. Winnie’s fuckin’ Wash. She moved too quick for someone who had sunk more Manhattans than she could count on two hands. Darting through the thick Soirée crowd, ducking her head with a determined urgency, her high heels speared the liquor-soaked carpet. Pearl beelined for the office and gave the door a kick as she entered then flicked it shut behind her. Her eyes narrowed on the phone that sat innocently atop her desk. She snatched the receiver from the cradle and jabbed in the number. Flames licked at her insides and a particular breed of clarity that came only with rage illuminated her mind. Of course. How else had Tony been so dead certain Luca’s body was Soirée’s problem? The old crone had sold out. After years of harbouring the secrets of every no gooder in Minnenoona, she’d chosen Pearl Sackville to break the habit of a lifetime. Daggering breaths whistled through flared nostrils. A click sounded as the phone was answered on the other end. Pearl wasted no time. Her voice was low as she hissed: [quote] “[i]Winifred[/i].” [/quote] Nothing. Faint static and the hint of breath in the receiver. [quote] “[i]What have you done?[/i]”[/quote] And for a beat there was nothing. Nothing but Pearl white-knuckling the receiver and imagining driving her thumbs through the Cleaner’s eyeholes. [quote] “[i]Ain’t no ‘Winifred’ here[/i].”[/quote] Then, the line disconnected.