Page 67 of Dublin's Danger Dancer

“Everyone needs the money, me included.”

“What do you make an average night? He asks, reaching into his breast pocket.

I place my hand over his. “Stop,” I say. “I’m gonna go to work and I’m going to dance and there’s nothing you can do about it. This is what I enjoy doing.”

“Now you are telling me you enjoy dancing for other men?” He steps away. His lips thinning into an angry growl.

“Yes, I enjoy dancing for other men. You can call me a slut or a whore, or maybe you’d like to force your gun into my mouth like your da?”

“What is it, the power?”

“Yes, it’s the power I like to feel powerful over men, okay?”

“That I can understand,” he says opening his mouth, pulling his fingers down his cheek and rubbing his lip. “You’re not going to stop stripping, are you?”

“No I’m not, you should get used to it.”

“Well, you’ve probably got five years left in you before you're too old to strip.” he smiles.

I punch him in the arm.

“I have business. But I’ll stop by the club tonight, save your last dance for me and if you don’t feel better, promise me you won’t go. I’ll give you the money you miss out on. Do you think you're well enough for it?” his eyes drift to my bedroom.

“Leave now,” I say.

“I’ll see you at the club tonight.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

”I’m looking forward to afterwards,” he says, his eyes scanning down my body “the way you felt last night, coming all over my cock. You’re the most addictive drug I’ve ever tried. And I’ve tried them all.”

My throat dries. I struggle to swallow. It feels like razors have crosshatched my throat.

“Goodbye Liam,” I say, closing the door

I needed to go and talk to Harry. She was the only one who could stop this nightmare from drowning me. I’d chosen this apartment because it was so close to her. Being close to her bones made me feel like she was still here, looking out for me.

What I had with Liam was overwhelming. He made every nerve I had stand on edge. And I hated it. I hated myself more though. I needed to confess what I’d done to Harry. Though I was sure she already knew. I always imagined the dead as being all seeing, all knowing beings.

The thought of Harry seeing me with Liam last night, after the shoot out makes me want to vomit again, so I throw on my leggings and a cotton hoodie and head out into the sun.

I buy the biggest bunch of pink carnations I can find at the flower stall en route. I allow the lady to wrap a beautiful pink satin bow around them. She tells me she loves it when daughters buy flowers for their mammies.

I nod, saying nothing. Carrying the flowers under my arm I think, she’s right. Harry was more of a mammy to me than anyone else. I thought the flowers might soften the guilt but the closer I get to St Mary’s the more I knew that was wishful thinking.

Entering the cemetery I pass the familiar oversized oak trees. There is no breeze this morning, so the spirally arranged leaves are only bouncing because of last night’s rain dripping off the veins.

I crouch down next to Harriet’s tombstone.

“Top of the morning to ya.” I say plopping myself down on the grass between my sister and Cynthia.

She always said that to me in the mornings. And if I was still in bed, she’d proceed to tickle me until I leapt up.

“I know I shouldn’t joke.” I say laying the flowers down on the purple stones above her body.

“Four guards died last night. And I—” I stop.

“Well, you know what I did.”

---