The Bullet Trick

It’s all smoke and mirrors sweetheart.' Candy winced, but she let me sit her on the table then swung her legs up, modestly holding her skirt to her, but still revealing a flash of fishnets that drew some whistles from the audience as she sank slowly onto her back. I thought I saw tears trembling in her eyes. I gave her a wink and locked a small box around her waist, turning to the policemen and shouting over the noise, 'Those of you who do a lot of shift work might like to know that this doubles as a chastity belt.' I started to move the saw, knowing that from their angle it would look like I was cutting through the girl. Candy’s eyes were leaking now, but her smile was a little braver. I twisted my face, trying to look like the kind of crazed personality that might indeed saw a woman in half, but ran a finger reassuringly down her waist. I let the saw complete its journey then did an evil, heh, heh, heh to the audience. Candy looked up at me, unsure whether it was working. I winked again willing her to keep silent.

There was a wave of applause and then the catcalls started.

I know which end I’d like.

Come round to my place and do that to the Missis, that’s the only half of her I need.

Naw, mine’s talks out of her arse anyway.

I unlatched the box, grabbed a giant silk flag painted with red and black flames, shielded Candy with it while she detached herself from the equipment and got to her feet. I waved the flag three times and forced her into a bow.

'Shit, he’s put her back together again,' said a boozy voice from somewhere in the audience.

I slipped twenty quid into her hand and she went off to tend to her coats, while I took a final bow.

Bill slid into a booth with a good view of the dance floor. I slipped in opposite him with my back to the action. The mirror angled on the wall above Bill’s head caught the room in a convex swirl, flinging it back in a distorted haze of lights and colour. I sipped my drink. A Middle Eastern beat that was all drums and pipes started up. Bill put his glass down and looked beyond me towards the stage.

'You been looking forward to this?'

I shrugged and wondered where Sam had got to. Whatever hopes I’d had of catching the last race of the night were lost.

Two tall black shadows glided across the floor. At first I couldn’t make out what they were. Perhaps the audience were confused too, they had fallen quiet, the men at the bar no longer keeping stiff-faced Crowther busy with a barrage of rounds.

Bill laughed. 'Christ, we’re going to have a fatwa on our hands.'

He shook his head, amused, looking confident of his ability to stave off any attack. The shadows slid into focus and I realised that Shaz and Jacque had draped themselves in burkahs. They stood nun-black, with just a mesh of fabric to see through, swaying with the music, twirling round in a dance that looked traditional, but was probably made up. It was impossible to see what their bodies were doing beneath the robes, but I bet it would be lithe and smooth. The only part of them uncovered was their feet, tripping soft and dainty against the dance floor.

Together the girls raised their right hands and with a delicate move unhooked the grilles that veiled their eyes. The sparkles glistering from the makeup that jewelled their eyelids caught the light, even flashing into our dull corner. Shaz’s was pure emerald, Jacque’s switched between sapphire and diamond. For the first time since the pair had stepped onto the stage the men made a noise, a low cheer.

The girls danced on as if alone, swirling the burkahs, though now I suspected these were of thinner material than standard. They floated above the girls’ ankles, revealing painted toenails beneath black mesh and anklets of silver that clinked and trembled with each step.

Bill glanced at his watch, then suddenly, as if the girls sensed the audience’s attention was wavering, they reached out, each grabbing the other’s dark garment by the hips. There was a slight pause, a hesitation of Velcro and the dancers’ legs were revealed, smooth and stockinged, diamanté garters competing with their eyes in the sparkle stakes.

The men roared. Bill took a drag of his cigarette and turned away from the dance floor.

'Not quite what I expected.'

I nodded towards the group of policemen.

'They seem to be enjoying it well enough.'

'That’s the main thing.'

In the mirror above his head the girls twirled some more, their veiled faces and covered bodies incongruous against the flesh of their exposed thighs shimmying above the dark stocking tops.

Bill seemed to have lost interest.

'You were better than I expected.'

'Cheers, but you weren’t seeing me at my best.'

'Even better then.'

Out on the dance floor Shaz had torn Jacque’s top off to reveal a black brassiere, beaded fringes all a-twinkle. Jacque did a shimmy to the audience that made her bosoms shiver, then turned to her friend and returned the favour. Shaz’s bra was identical but silver-white. Their act was tacky, but it worked.

I said, 'It’s tacky but it works.'

Bill made a face, 'I guess you could call it tacky, but I thought you had something, with the right girl you might get somewhere.' He looked back at the dancers. Jacque had wet her finger and placed it on Shaz’s thigh. She drew it back quickly as if scalded. 'Let’s face it, you’d get nowhere lumbered with that fat tart.'

'She was OK.'

'She looks all right now, but those pale blondes wash out pretty quick.' The girls were playing with the front fastenings of their bras now, teasing the crowd. Jacque leaned into the ringside table and let a burly man unclip hers. Her breasts fell forward and she rubbed them teasingly across his baldpate. 'I watched you boosting those guys’ watches. You’ve got nimble digits there. Ever get you in trouble?'

'Once or twice, as a kid.'

'No convictions though?'

'I learned to make it work for me.'

'All the same, you were taking a chance with these coppers.'

'You think so?'

'No, not really, but you know what they can be like, there’s some touchy buggers amongst them.'

'You get an instinct for them in my game.'

Bill took a sip of his drink.

'I suppose you do. It’s amazing how you know things.'

'It’s just a trick Bill.'

'I realise that… but all the same. You were spot on every time. Maybe there’s more to the trick than you think.'

It had happened before, people mistaking dexterity and good observation for something else, but I hadn’t expected it from Bill. He passed me a cigar. We both lit up and sat silent in the smoke-scented gloom of the booth. Bill’s body was relaxed, his smile easy.

A careless observer might have thought us old friends having a casual conversation. I mirrored his calm pose and waited for him to get to the point.

Sam skirted the dance floor, keeping clear of the boisterous bevy of men and inserted himself into the booth beside Bill. He nodded towards The Divines.

'Very Tales of the Unexpected.'

Bill turned towards him.

'A bit arty for me.'

Sam raised his eyebrows in mock exasperation.

'There’s a surprise.' His face grew serious. 'Have you asked him yet?'

Bill paused like a man trying to make up his mind. I half expected Sam to cajole him, but there was a silence between the three of us almost as loud as the beat of the music and the laughter of the policemen. At last Bill sighed and put his cigar in the ashtray.

'There’s something I’d like to know.'

He played with his glass, not taking a sip from it, just looking into the brown liquid as if the answer might lie amongst the bubbles. Curiosity and the dangerous faint hope of an easy score kept me in my seat.

'Go on.'

'I’d like to know what Inspector Montgomery had on my dad.'

The sentence hung in the air, a bridge between Bill’s world and mine. A bridge I wasn’t sure I wanted to cross.

Eventually I said, 'So why don’t you ask him?'

'It’s not as simple as that.'

'Sorry to hear it.' I reached for my jacket. 'I’m in the entertainment game. Complicated isn’t my scene.'