Page 34 of Dublin's Danger Dancer

He introduced me to members of his family. Who all seem to have names starting with M. There was Michael, Mickey, Murphy, Maria, Marie and Mary and anyone whose name didn’t start with an M washed over me.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a tray of polished champagne flutes is shoved under my nose.

“Champagne for the lady?” Freddie asks “an apology for last night. And might I say that you look extremely beautiful this evening.”

Liam takes the champagne glasses off the tray and offers one to me. He shoots Freddie a glare.

“Me and the lads need you in the back for five minutes,” Freddie says.

Liam presses the champagne glass into my hand and stands up, re-buttoning his suit jacket. He bends down and whispers in my ear, “don’t let any of these bastards give you shit. I’ll be back in a minute.” He kisses my cheek.

Once the normal pleasantries were exchanged and I’d rolled my eyes at least three times above the whispers of the word stripper, I asked someone where the toilet was. Ignoring their advice I set off in search of Liam and his lads.

I’d watched Liam disappear down a long corridor. I head in the same direction. I pass a man with a shaved head who, judging by the hushed whispers and money gliding through hands, was engaged in illegal betting.

I enter the long, dimly lit, corridor. It was a pungent mixture of stale smoke, body odour, yesterday’s booze, dirty socks and urine. Some well-intentioned person has pasted each door with cheap fake wood vinyl. The fake grain had been badly computer generated and the vinyl was rolling away from the edges of all doors. The turned up corners had become magnets for dust and dirt.

The warren of rooms is deathly silent. I can only hear water rattle above flowing through the exposed pipes painted white running along the walls. I count eight rooms on each side before I hear the sound of voices.

The door is ajar. I gently push it open millimetre by millimetre. The feet of four men are clearly visible on the cheap worn carpet. Liam’s brogues are pointed towards the door.

“I don’t want kids involved. No kids. You hear me?”

“The kids make the whole thing profitable. Your da would be turning in his grave if he heard you on your moral high horse.”

“Find another way to reach profitability. I don’t want kids involved. Make sure the shipment reaches Emmett’s industrial Estate by 2:00 am. I’m going to stop by then and I want to inspect.”

Staring at the shoes, I see Liam’s heel lift. I retreat, pressing the door handles as if I’m searching for the toilets.

“What the feckin’ hell are you doing here?” asks Freddie rounding the door.

“What are you doing here? You ol’ pervert. I’m searching for the ladies.”

Liam appears beside his uncle.

“Everything OK, Ciara?”

“Everything is fine. I’m looking for the ladies’ toilet. One of the girls told me they were down here.”

“Yesterday you were on the boat and today you’re down here, earwigging our conversation, if you weren’t a stripper, your skin would be the same colour as your dress,” laughs Freddie.

Liam lunges at his uncle, grabbing him by the throat he pins him against the stucco walls.

“Apologise to the lady!”

Freddie blusters. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It was just a joke.”

Liam takes the pressure from his jugular and releases him from the wall.

Admir steps out of the room. His eyes scanned me from head to toe, and a muscle in his cheek flinches. He leans into his friend and whispers something that I’m hundred percent sure is about me.

Admir had risen up to be the leader of the Albanian gang. They derived most of their income from human trafficking, and he’d been seen with my sister shortly before her murder.

“Sorry about that. Let’s go watch this boxing match. I’ve got €100,000 bet on a knockout,” he says, taking me by the hand.

We walk out of the corridor and back to the main concourse. Liam stops abruptly.

“The ladies’ room is here,” says Liam, opening a door for me to a one room toilet.

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