Page 2 of Slayer

“Hey Poe. Is this important? I'm kinda busy.”

“Who is busy at three am, Annie?”

“I am.”

“I'm at the shop getting milk. How long are you staying? Do I need to stock up?”

“I'll be here for breakfast, but I've got to get home before lunch.”

“So you've driven up here in the middle of the night, drank our milk and you're leaving before Mum gets up tomorrow?”

“I'm busy, Poe.” She snaps back. “When do you think you’ll be home?”

“I’m checking out now, I’ll be home in ten minutes.” I reply defeated. “But you're telling me what's going on when I get there. Understand?”

“Whatever Poe, see you soon.” Then she hangs up abruptly. This night just keeps getting better and better. The drive home is uneventful and as I walk in the house I can hear music playing from upstairs. After putting the milk and snacks I picked up for her away in our small kitchen I walk up the stairs and knock on Annie’s door.

When she opens the door I get right to the point. It’s too late and exhaustion is taking hold for me to spend too much time fighting over this.

“What's going on with you, Annie, why are you here?”

“What do you want me to say, Poe?” She stands against her dressing table with both her hands behind her back looking guilty as sin. “Am I not allowed to come home for a visit anymore?”

“You know you're always welcome to come home, but I'm worried about you, Annie. What kind of trouble are you in this time?”

She's my twin sister, we didn't have much when we were growing up, but we always had each other. I never thought she’d leave home, and now she has, she's here more than when this was her residence. We were raised by a single mum who cared more about drugs than about us, and we always talked about leaving as soon as we turned eighteen. Swearing to each other that we would never get tangled up with drugs ourselves. We both got jobs, and she found a room to rent in a house full of girls her age. I've not been so lucky; but Mums so fucked up by drugs, she doesn't leave her room and needs someone at home. I stayed and put my money away for when my chance to escape shows itself.

“Why do you assume I'm in trouble, maybe I just missed you.” Annie sighs. “And maybe I'm having trouble making enough money to cover my side of the rent.”

“Move back in here. That should help with the money. I 'm doing OK.”

“Poe, you're a stripper, of course you do OK. I just pour drinks. Ain't no one shoving twenties in my G-string.”

“Exotic dancer,” I correct her. I don't strip on stage. I go out practically naked and throw my body around a pole all night. In truth, I don't notice the punters, I just zone out and focus on the dance. We both loved to dance growing up and the outreach centre had a great programme. We did anything that was free and got us out of the house. Our social worker found all sorts of clubs for us to join, from dance classes, swimming, and martial arts. It was a shame it was all physical stuff when I was never into physical things, but when I found my love for dancing, the rest just helped my coordination and balance.

If only Annie's troubles really were about money.

“We can find you a better job.” This isn't about paying the rent. She's keeping secrets from me and it's getting her down. Situations change, and we're not as close now. We relied on each other all the time growing up, but now we rely on ourselves. I do understand that, but if she's in trouble, and I can help then I will.

“It's fine, Poe. Please leave me alone, I'm tired and want to go to bed.”

“Fine. But just so you know that I'm worried about you, and if I can help…”

“I know, I know.” She pushes me to the door, and I take the hint. I've done my brotherly bit. I can't force her to let me help. Pushing my efforts on her will be easier face to face over chocolate brownies tomorrow. She'll give me a sob story; I'll give her my wages, and everything will be ok for a while. Whatever is wrong is more than I can fix with money.

two

Knox

Ineverstayinthe office this late, but tonight I'll make an exception. I'm not leaving until I find my drugs. Identifying which of my bar staff was on the CCTV footage was easy. We only have two brunettes on tonight, and the door attendant let the bitch out. He tried to keep it from me, said he hadn't seen anything for the first twenty minutes of questioning. Then I strung him up by his hands and he finally saw sense.

My office overlooks the club dance floor, floor to ceiling glass windows let me see everything, but the one-way film stops anyone seeing in. Not that there is anyone on the dance floor to see him. Not this late.

I'll cut him down soon, but right now the sound of his suffering is the only thing keeping me calm. At least now I have a name.

Tiffany Ellis.

Typical curvy girl who doesn't know a thing about bartending but makes good enough eye candy for the punters not to care. Topless night always brings higher bar takings than any other night.

---