Privado was a low-rate, lap dancing bar just off the Quayside that Bobby controlled. It was pretty busy. It looked like the credit crunch wasn’t stopping men from coming in here and parting with large amounts of cash for a quick flash of a girl’s tits. The blue lighting was so subdued you would have had to squint to see anything though, even when the lass pressed herself right up against you, but they still turned up. There were half a dozen girls in the room, dressed in, or slowly removing, their bra and pants. The men looked drunk, sitting on their own around the leather seating that lined the bar’s walls. The girls made them sit on their hands so they didn’t get tempted to touch what they were supposed to just be looking at but that clearly hadn’t stopped Our-young-’un from disgracing himself. They straddled the men, perched on their knees and gyrated while they draped their long hair in the guy’s faces or rubbed their breasts together a couple of millimetres from their slavering mouths. The routines were all pretty similar but the men didn’t seem too bothered by the lack of variety.
I saw one girl I recognised. Michelle had just climbed off a guy’s lap then bent down in front of him so he could stare at her arse. She gave her bum a half-hearted smack, but her eyes told me how bored she was. Who was she trying to kid, I thought, but then I saw the look on his face. His mouth was open wider then a guppy’s and his eyes looked like they were about to roll right up into their sockets. Clearly he thought this whole spectacle was an unrestrained display of raw, female sexuality, not the student-loan-busting source of revenue that Michelle viewed it as.
It took a while to cross the floor while the girls were doing their thing. I had to virtually step over one of them as she writhed on the ground. The music ended as I passed Michelle, just as she whipped her bra off so she could do the second of the fish-faced bloke’s two dances topless. That was the deal; two dances for twenty notes, twenty quid spunked in around six minutes. At that rate he would be a couple of hundred quid down in around an hour, excluding tips. For the same amount he could have had full sex with one of Bobby’s escorts, which made more sense to me, but I guessed he was too shy for that.
The second song was Khia’s ‘My Neck My Back’ and Michelle bent down again to show him everything Khia was singing about. He stared at her arse once more as she peeled her knickers off. She looked up as I walked by, smiled, blew me a little kiss and gave me a wave, which he didn’t spot. He didn’t seem to notice Michelle wasn’t giving him her undivided attention but then he wasn’t looking at her face.
Michelle was a nice girl and certainly a looker. She was around twenty with long, dark hair and a cracking figure, but I couldn’t understand the appeal of all this myself. I’m no prude but this didn’t seem to be one thing or the other. If you needed sex and were prepared to pay for it, then have sex. Don’t piss about in a lap dancing club. I didn’t sleep with Bobby’s escort girls and I didn’t need to pay for it either, even before Laura, but I didn’t have an issue with people who did. It seemed to me that all the guys in here were cowards. They wanted it but they weren’t prepared to properly go for it. This was safe, it was sanitised, it was a tease but that’s all it was. They’d still leave here frustrated. Like I said, I just didn’t get it.
Vincent took me through an unmarked, metal door into a dimly lit corridor. The door swung shut behind us and the music was immediately muffled to a low drone in the background. We were headed for a back room and before he opened that door he spoke to me in a low whisper.
‘We had to put him in here. I hope that’s alright with you. He was a bit worse for wear when he came in, noisy like, disturbing the other punters. I sent a girl over to give him a couple of dances on the house, on account of him being your brother and it calmed him down for a while but when she took her top off he just grabbed her tits and she screamed blue murder.’
‘Oh Christ.’
‘The bouncer came right over and your bro got a bit aggressive but our doorman didn’t hurt him. I made sure of that but we couldn’t let him stay in there. I hope you understand.’
‘Of course Vince,’ I told him.
‘We gave him a bit of a talking to, made him a strong cup of coffee and locked him in there to cool off then I called you. Nobody else knows anything about it and I’ve told the doorman to keep his trap shut. Of course there were a lot of punters in there so… ’ he shrugged, meaning that word could still get back to Bobby if I was unlucky and my luck seemed to be in short supply tonight.
‘Thanks Vincent, I appreciate you handling it like you did and I’m sorry for the trouble he caused you.’ I took out my wallet and peeled off ten twenty pound notes and handed them to him, ‘give this to the lass.’ I knew Vincent would give her whatever he thought she’d accept to keep quiet about having her tits groped in public and he would keep the rest and that was fine by me.
‘Hey, no problem,’ he said pocketing the cash, ‘he’s your brother. You don’t have to apologise for him. He’s still a bloody hero an’ all. I haven’t forgotten that. I know he’s had his problems.’
I patted Vincent on the back and he unlocked the door and left me to it. Danny was sitting on the kind of cheap, red plastic chair they use in school dinner halls. He was still very drunk and swaying a bit, his coffee cup was full to the brim on the table in front of him. His lank hair hung down over his eyes because his head was bowed but I couldn’t tell if it was shame or if he had fallen asleep in his seat. He heard me come through the door and his head shot up.
‘Oh I’m sorry bro’. I’m a fucking wreck, I’m really sorry.’ He was slurring but at least he wasn’t violent drunk and he knew he’d done wrong. I was relieved. I didn’t want to end up scrapping with my older brother. Even in this state he could still kick me all round the room.
‘That’s alright Danny,’ I told him, ‘though I doubt that lass’ll be going on a date with you any time soon.’
He grinned like a schoolboy then. ‘She had a cracking pair of top bollocks,’ he said, ‘I couldn’t resist. You should have seen them man.’
‘What makes you think I haven’t seen ‘em?’
His smile went broader then, ‘aye, you probably have an’ all you dirty bastard. Bet you get to shag all of Bobby’s birds. Does Posh Spice know?’ and he laughed, as he always did when using his nickname for Laura. I don’t think he’d ever used her real name. It was always Posh Spice or Posh Knickers and occasionally Tara Palmer Topbollockson, which was his favourite name for her but he was far too drunk to attempt that just now.
The door opened then. It was Michelle, back in her bra and pants, giving me an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry,’ she told me, ‘I was just checking to see if you were alright like,’ and she went a bit red in the face, which was strange for someone who could take all her clothes off in a room full of strangers without blushing.
‘We’re good thanks,’ I told her.
‘Smashing,’ she said, ‘sure you don’t want a cup of tea or anything?’
‘He’s got a brew, thanks. I’m fine.’
‘Right,’ she said, ‘okay.’ And she hung on for a second. ‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ and she gently closed the door behind her.
‘Fuckin’ hell young’un, you could have been in there man. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t tell Poshy.’
‘Come on,’ I told him firmly, ‘let’s get you home before that other lass sues you for groping her.’