Stephen Leather - Tango One

"But, yeah, it's a crazy fucking world all the same."

Fullerton sipped his champagne.

"Do you want a lap-dance?" he asked.

"You're not really my type, Jamie, but thanks."

"You know what I mean," said Fullerton. He waved at the girls on the podiums.

"My treat."

"Maybe later," said Donovan. He frowned as he saw someone he recognised walking into the club. Ricky Jordan. Jordan waved and walked over. He was with a short stocky man with close-cropped grey hair.

"Den, didn't know this was one of your haunts, "Jordan said. Donovan stood up and the two men hugged. Donovan introduced him to Fullerton.

They shook hands. Jordan introduced the other man as Kim Fletcher.

Donovan had met Fletcher before, he was one of Terry Greene's crew.

Fletcher patted Jordan on the back and said that he had business to take care of in the office. Before he left he motioned for Sabrina to bring over another bottle of champagne.

"On the house," he said.

"How did it go with Jesus?" Ask Donovan "Sweet," said Jordan.

"Seems like a sharp guy."

"Be careful, Ricky. He's a vicious bastard."

"It's only business, Den. We've got the cash and the gear's on the way. Volkswagen Beetles, huh? Whose idea was that?" He slapped Donovan on the back.

"Jesus's uncle. Carlos."

"Fucking brilliant. Beetles. This one could run and run, Den."

"Yeah," said Donovan.

Sabrina arrived with champagne and a glass for Jordan.

"What was your problem with him, Den?"

"Water under the bridge, Ricky. Forget it."

"Takes me and Charlie to the next level."

"Yeah, well, just remember who helped you on the way, yeah?"

Jordan leaned over and clinked his glass against Donovan's.

"Cheers, mate."

"Yeah," said Donovan ruefully.

"Cheers."

Fullerton banged his glass against Donovan's.

"Down the hatch," he said.

"What's this about VWs? If you want a car, I can get you a deal on a Porsche."

Jordan threw back his head and laughed.

"Bloody hell, Den. Where did you get him from?"

"We're not buying VWs, Jamie," said Donovan.

"Bloody right, we're not," said Jordan.

"I'm confused," said Fullerton.

"Good, let's keep it that way," said Donovan. He threw a warning glance at Jordan. Fullerton had done a great job selling Donovan's paintings, but he still wasn't sure how much he could be trusted.

"How's it going, boys?"

The three men looked up. It was one of the pneumatic blondes. Jordan leered up at her.

"Getting better by the minute," he said.

"You're new, aren't you?"

"I'm twenty-two," she said. She shook her platinum-blonde hair, which reached almost to her waist. A small gold stud pierced her belly button.

"I meant.. Jordan started, but then he grinned.

"Forget it," he said.

"Go on, then, darling, do your stuff."

The other blonde who'd been dancing on the podium walked over, swinging her hips and flashing Donovan a beaming smile.

"I'm Angie," she said. She slipped her arm around the other girl's waist.

"She's Kris."

"With a K," said Kris.

Fullerton leaned over the table.

"I know you, don't I?" he asked Kris.

Kris put her head on one side and pouted as she looked at him.

"Don't think so."

"How long have you worked here?"

Kris frowned as if he'd asked her to solve a difficult mathematical equation.

"A week. I was at one of Terry's other clubs. He asked me to move here for a bit."

"Which club?"

"Angels. Marble Arch."

"Didn't know Angels was Terry's."

"Yeah, it was his first club," said Donovan.

"I used to drink there all the time."

"I've seen you somewhere, I know I have," said Fullerton.

"Leave the girl alone, Jamie," said Donovan. He held out his hand.

"Come and give me a dance, Kris."

"Give?" she said, tossing her long blonde hair.

"Nothing here's for free, you know."

"I saw her first," said Jordan.

"Let her choose," said Donovan. He grinned up at Kris.

"Lady's choice."

She looked at him, then at Jordan, then back at Donovan. Her smile widened and Donovan knew that he'd won. He grinned at Jordan.

"Never mind, mate."

"Yeah, she probably goes for older men," said Jordan.

"I do actually," said Kris, taking off her bikini top and releasing her impressive breasts.

"Bloody hell," said Fullerton, then he yelped as Mimi prodded him in the ribs.

"Hey, I was only looking," he said.

Mimi had climbed down off the podium without him noticing. She sat down next to him and put her hand on his thigh.

"Are you going to buy me a drink or do I have to go back to the sad bastards over there?" she asked, pointing at the suited businessmen sitting around the podium.

"You drink what you like, lover. I am yours to command."

Angie took off her top and straddled Jordan. His hands went up to her breasts.

"No touching," she said.

"Club rules."

Jordan took out his wallet and slipped the girl two fifty-pound notes.

"I can touch what the hell I want," he said.

"Ricky's rules."

Angie slid the notes into the top of her white stockings and thrust her breasts into Jordan's face. He sighed and slid down the sofa.

Kris laughed. She held out her hand to Donovan.

"Kris," she said.

"Yeah, you said."

"And you are?"

Donovan grinned.

"The guy you'll be dancing for." He settled back on the sofa. Kris started to dance, a slow sinuous grind, her green eyes fixed on his.

She had full lips and white, even teeth and she smelled of fresh flowers.

She put her lips close to his ear.

"Really, what's your name?" she whispered.

"Mr. Mysterious," said Donovan.

Kris wrinkled her nose.

"I know who you are, anyway." She pushed her breasts together with her upper arms, emphasising her cleavage.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're Den Donovan."

Donovan frowned.

"How do you know that?"

"One of the girls told me. You're a friend of Terry's, aren't you?"

"Which girl?" asked Donovan suspiciously.

"Elizabeth." She jerked a thumb towards the podium.

"The black girl. She's been here for years. Knows everyone. Remembers you. Said you were a big tipper and that you liked blondes."

Donovan relaxed.

"That sounds about right."

Kris was an accomplished dancer, totally at ease with her body. Donovan looked across at Fullerton, who had a glazed look on his face as Mimi ground herself against his hips, her mouth open and inviting.

Kris leaned forward, pouting and pushing her breasts together and giving him a close-up of her cleavage. Donovan felt himself grow hard and shook his head, annoyed at himself for reacting so physically to her charms. She saw the effect she was having on him and grinned.

Jordan was having simulated sex with Angie. She was sitting astride him and kissing him full on the mouth as she pounded against him.

The track came to an end and Donovan reached for his wallet. Kris shook her head.

"First one's on me, Den."

"What?"

"It's not always about money. Specially for a friend of Terry's."

Den took a fifty-pound note from his wallet and handed it to her.

"You're working," he said, 'and I'm a punter. Take it."

Kris looked like she would argue, but then she smiled and took the money.

"Thanks."

"Pleasure was all mine."

"Another?"

"Later, yeah?"

Kris kissed him on the cheek and sashayed back to the podium. She waved without looking back, knowing that he was still watching her, and he smiled to himself.

Jordan patted Donovan's leg.

"Good here, in nit Fullerton had opened his eyes again. He leaned over to Jordan and winked conspiratorially.

"Hey, Ricky. Fancy a line?"

"Dead right," said Jordan.