Stolen Lives (22 page)

Down the corridor she could see a number of booths with glass sides with clear and frosted stripes on them and plastic curtains in front. Another large, grim-looking bouncer stood near the booths. Jade watched a dancer leading a rather dazed-looking man by the hand past the bouncer and into one of the booths. Then the dancer closed the curtain and the pair disappeared from view.

“There.” David pointed in the direction of her gaze. “That’s what makes me think that sex isn’t on the menu at a place like this.”

“Why?”

“Because you can see what’s going on. Not everything, of course, but you can see enough to know what’s happening through those strips of clear glass on the sides. That means the girl can’t offer any extras, and more importantly, the man can’t take advantage. That happens a lot more often than the ladies offering sex, I’ve been told.”

“Rape? Inside those booths?”

“Not inside those. But you get other places that have booths with solid walls. Some of them even have lockable doors. When I used to raid these joints, those were a clear warning sign. Inside those rooms anything could be going on, and probably was.”

“What about the dancers meeting up with the men after hours? That must happen.”

David nodded. “Yup. I think it happens from time to time. But it’s strongly discouraged, of course. And these dancers earn good money, Jadey. They don’t need to supplement their income and, trust me, they don’t want to lose their jobs.”

“Shagging the owner doesn’t count, I suppose.”

David’s face lit up as he smiled. “That probably counts in their favour.”

“Where do they come from?” Jade asked, glancing around the room again.

David shrugged. “The waitress sounded Eastern European, so I should check if she has a permit to work here. That girl at the door was definitely Afrikaans. And there’s one black dancer there, on the stage.”

“Sorry,” Jade said. “I didn’t mean it literally. I meant how do they find such particular types of woman to work here? They’re all young, good-looking, with long hair and good bodies and big breasts. Like clones, Stepford wives. Or, in this case, Stepford strippers.”

“The breasts aren’t real.”

“Did the customers tell you that, too?” Jade asked slyly.

David’s grin widened and he shook his head.

“I guess it’s the money,” Jade said. “I see what you’re saying. If I wasn’t rigidly obeying strip-club etiquette, I’d tell you to look over there, at that table in the corner. Those are hundred-rand notes those guys are sticking into that woman’s g-string.”

“A lot of money moves around here. That’s for sure.”

Jade stabbed with the straw at the slice of lemon in her sparkling water, thinking of the sportscars gleaming in the garages at Pamela’s Sandown home.

“Do you think money was the reason for torturing Terence?”

The song ended, and her words sounded oddly loud in the brief moment of quietness.

“I dunno,” David said. “We’d have to answer the question your dad always told me to ask. Who benefits?”

Jade sighed. “Pamela benefits. That’s the problem.”

Scattered applause signalled that the dance on the stage was finished. The girls left through a curtained side exit, carrying their discarded outfits bunched up in their hands, their heads held high and their taut buttocks twitching as they walked.

A minute later, Jade spotted them again, exiting through a side door into a corridor that she now saw led to the Ladies’ room. They’d already put their costumes on again. A reverse-Houdini act behind the curtain, she supposed.

“Where are you off to?” David asked as she pushed her chair back.

“I’m going to see if I can have a chat.”

She walked towards the exit, aware that a number of men had turned to watch her go. In a place like this, she guessed any woman was fair game. Even if they were wearing tightly belted blue jeans and hadn’t spent as long on their hair as they should have done.

She pushed open the squeaky door of the Ladies’ room. The tang of soap and disinfectant filled the small space. There was no sign of the dancers. Only one cubicle was occupied, and as she watched, a waitress made a hurried exit.

Jade glanced at herself in the mirror as she followed the waitress out, noticing that she seemed to have aged alarmingly in the unforgiving glare of the fluorescent ceiling light.

The door squeaked again as it closed behind her.

Where had the dancers gone?

Turning away from the main hall, where she could hear the throbbing disco blare of yet another Beyoncé song starting up, she headed in the other direction. The door at the end of the corridor stood ajar. The smell of cigarette smoke wafted towards her, and she could hear low voices.

She walked outside, and the three dancers fell silent and turned as one to look at her, glowing cigarettes held in their French-manicured fingers.

They stood in a small yard under a bright outside light. The unglamorous backside of Heads & Tails. Uneven paving, a low brick wall doing a bad job of concealing a jumbled array of dustbins, and a steel grating covering a foul-smelling drain.

Up close, and in this glaring light, illusions were also stripped away. She could see crow’s feet around the nearest girl’s eyes, fine lines around her mouth, a darker strip along the roots of her blonde hair. Her make-up was heavy, her tan a fake bronze.

“Hello, ladies,” Jade said neutrally.

They stared back at her, their gazes suspicious and far from friendly.

“Hi,” the blonde said. She drew deeply on her cigarette, puckering her lips around the filter in a way that Jade guessed would have instantly doubled her tips, had any men been watching.

“I was hoping to have a chat with one of you. You see, my boyfriend and I came here to see what this place is all about.” Her first words, and she was already telling lies. David, her boyfriend? If only.

The blonde said nothing in reply; just watched her.

“My younger sister is thinking of applying for a job here.” Another lie. And the wrong thing to say, she knew that immediately. The girls all stiffened and exchanged glances. The blonde flashed another look at her—a quick up-and-down assessment. Was Jade’s younger sister going to prove to be a threat?

“Jobs here are not easy to get,” the blonde snapped.

The brunette standing opposite her, a tall, willowy girl with multiple piercings in her ears, shook her head in agreement. “They’re not looking for dancers at the moment. She can come in for an interview, but I’m telling you, the chances aren’t good.

Especially this time of year. It’s winter in Europe now, and there’ll be a lot of girls from over there coming to work the summer season here. Does your sister have any experience?”

“No.”

“Then definitely not,” the blonde said emphatically. “Tammy only hires experienced girls.” She adjusted a strap on her tiny outfit. The night was still warm enough for her to be comfortable standing outside wearing virtually nothing. God knows what they did in winter.

“Tammy?” Jade asked.

“Tammy Jordaan. The owner’s daughter. She runs this branch. She makes all the decisions. You see, this place is the top of the range.”

“Safe,” the brunette nodded. “And upmarket.”

“That too,” the blonde said. She dropped her smouldering cigarette butt onto the tiles and crushed it with the tip of her stiletto-heeled shoe. “Clean. No rough types. No fights. And strict rules. You’re not asked to do anything except dance. Most other places, the girls have to do a lot more than that.”

“Where’s the owner?” Jade asked.

The blonde shrugged. “In and out. He’s busy opening a new branch in Fourways.”

She didn’t know what had happened to Terence, that was clear to Jade.

“I’ve heard stories about the bosses at these places dating the workers,” Jade said. “Is that a problem here?”

The blonde exchanged another glance with her friends.

“Not really,” she said.

“There’s Crystal, though.” The words were spoken by the black woman standing in the shadows, who until then had remained silent.

The brunette glared at her. “That’s different,” she said. “They’re, like, an item, you know. That’s not the same as messing around.”

“Anyway, back to work, I guess.” The blonde gave her a tight smile, and made as if to move past her.

“Thanks for your help … ” Jade gave her a questioning glance.

“Opal’s my name.”

A stage name, Jade assumed.

The brunette smoothed her hair back. “Amber,” she said.

“I am Ebony,” the black dancer offered.

Crystal, Opal, Amber and Ebony.

She’d always wondered what her own name would be useful for, and now, at last, she knew.

“Pleased to meet you all,” she said. “I’m Jade.”

27

“I think there’s something wrong with me,” David said, when she returned. He was sitting in solitary splendour, glancing from time to time in the direction of the Ladies’ room.

“Why?”

“Nobody’s come near me since you left. Nobody’s even looked in my direction. The dancers are draping themselves over all the other customers like wet rags.”

“What about the waitress?” Jade asked. “Did you ask her if she was legal?”

“She hasn’t been back. Not even to find out if I want another drink.” He indicated his empty glass. “I don’t want a drink, I want to get the bloody bill. And I can’t get the bloody bill if nobody will look at me.”

“More strip-club etiquette, I should imagine.” Jade drained her water. “If a man arrives with a woman, do not pay him any attention while she is absent from the table, or you will get your eyes gouged out when she returns.” She waved a hand to summon the waitress.

Jade scrabbled in her wallet for cash while David produced his police id and asked the young woman if she was working here legally.

“Oh, yes,” she replied, smiling. “I have lived here for seven years now. I am a South African citizen. Nobody gets employed here unless they have a valid South African identity, or else a proper work permit. You are welcome to check with our admin office.”

She waved a hand in the general direction of the exit door.

“Right, then.” Pre-empting Jade’s attempts to pay, David slid a twenty-rand note and a handful of silver into the leather folder that the waitress had brought. “Are we finished here?”

As they left, Jade saw the waitress quickly prepare the table for the small group of men waiting at the bar. The place was packed full now, loud and pumping. They walked back down the corridor, past the bouncer at the door, and headed for the car.

“Did you get any useful information?” David asked.

“There don’t seem to be any dodgy extramural activities going on at all. The girls were very clear about that, and I believe them. Everything is above board, just like you thought.”

Jade waited for David to unlock the passenger door for her. He’d explained earlier that this unmarked had a problem with the central locking and that the passenger door wouldn’t open from the inside.

As he fumbled with the key in the lock, she heard the light tap of footsteps behind them and a voice called out, “Jade?”

Surprised, she turned to see Ebony, the black dancer, coming across the car park. She’d changed out of her skimpy red outfit into fleecy tracksuit bottoms and a white tank top. She had a gym bag slung over her shoulder and was dangling a bunch of car keys in her hand.

“I’ve had an idea about your sister.”

“Your sis— oof.” David’s surprised interjection was cut short by Jade elbowing him in the stomach.

“Thanks for coming to find me,” Jade said. Away from the other two dancers, Ebony seemed friendlier.

“Actually I’m on my way home,” she explained. “I was on early shift today. I should have gone an hour ago, except I was covering an extra dance for Crystal.”

Better get ready for more overtime then, Jade thought.

“What advice have you got for my sister?” she asked.

“Well, I’ve got two suggestions. The first is to do what I did. She could become a waitress and work her way up. It’s just that most girls don’t want to go that route because the money’s not as good and the job’s … different. A lot of the waitresses prefer not to do what we do.” She smiled.

“And the other way?”

“There’s a guy who used to work here as a bouncer a few years ago. He’s got connections in the industry, I think, because I know Tammy has sent girls to him to look for work when they applied for jobs here and we were full. I can give you his number, if you like.”

“That would be great,” Jade said. She took her notebook out of her bag, flipped through it until she found a fresh page, and handed it over.

Ebony scrolled through her cellphone’s directory. “I haven’t spoken to him for a while, but this number should still work.”

She wrote it down and handed it back to Jade.

“You know, a lot of people think that we’re nothing but prostitutes. That’s why they disapprove of what we do.” She smiled again, a friendly smile. “I’ve told my family I’m a croupier at a private club. That way they can’t try and visit me at work, and it explains my hours. It’s ridiculous when you think about it. Here we are, earning good money, we’re not doing any harm to anybody, nothing illegal. It’s just a tease, just a bit of fun. We’re acting out a fantasy, Tammy says. Like in Hollywood.”

David made a grunting noise that could have been interpreted as agreement.

“I understand, I really do,” Jade said.

“I think it’s cool that you’re trying to help your sister. That’s why I want to try and help you. There’s a huge demand for jobs at the moment, so maybe this will work better for her. And you just keep on supporting her, ok? You won’t ever know how much it means to have family who understand.”

She squeezed Jade’s arm before turning and walking towards a smart black Alfa Spider parked nearby.

Jade didn’t see Ebony get into her car. She was too busy staring down at the name and number the dancer had given her. Staring at it in complete confusion. She was so astounded by what she saw that she almost forgot to breathe.

On the slip of paper, in neat and legible handwriting, was a Vodacom cellphone number.

And below that, a single name.