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Roxanne said, 'Do you think he could replace all the angels who had never laid eyes upon her, or the dark one, who had come while she was asleep, and the very second she had opened her eyes in the morning, had given up and deserted her? Do you think that heaven is a place, where she wakes up on a cloud, surrounded by security guards with their arms folded, protecting her, like the Armaguard men protected the loot, but here they worked for nothing? If so, this place was heaven, for she only needed one protector stone-cold sober and handsome as.' The guy was about it! This is not strictly a fantasy from my end either. We already have each other's numbers and have talked briefly on our mobile phones. He also kissed me gently on the cheek when he saw me. I kissed him back, so that he wore a streak of hot pink for the rest of the night. But it felt like calling to heaven from a ditch in the dark. Some drunken chick slow-danced behind him, her middle churning with the beat and the vodka fuelling her actions like a slow moving steam engine. She touched his arse. Abbey said, 'Don't worry, he'll flick her off.' I said, 'Do you think he likes me? Do I look okay?' It was like the doll's hospital song we learnt as children, where this little girl admitted her old ragged doll into the doll's hospital for repairs just before Christmas. When the doll realised that the little girl would receive so many other new toys that year, the doll got insecure with her new plastic surgery. She sang, '... Christmas night is drawing nearer, and I'm getting scared, wish I could look in the mirror, to see how I've been repaired ... Are my ears all right? Is my nose in place? Do I have a cute expression on my face? Are my blue eyes bright? Do I look all right, to be taken home on Christmas night?' Of course the little girl adored her old doll. Abigail said, 'He's greedy for you.' 'Nice. Just look at her! She's as nice as!' 'He's real serious. He's in love!' 'No,' I said, 'do you really think so?' 'Shuddup, bitch! You know he's lost! He's lost!' I liked that. He was lost. It was okay to be lost in that moment before two people look into each other's eyes and find each other. They don't think they are lost until they are found. That's why people first in love keep staring at each other as much as they can, until sleep finally overtakes them. They don't want to be lost no more. I remembered what an old drunken derelict had said to me on the street, when I offered him a vegie roll instead of money for alcohol. He turned to me and said, 'I want fried chicken wings! I may be mad, but I'm not stupid!' The security guard was trained to occupy a room with the view to implementing a form of crowd control. I had to keep asking Abigail about what she thought. I just needed to know that I was 'about it', and that he was onto that 'about it!' All my confidence drained away like ten thousand wings, who were fluttering between my ribcage while trying to escape my heart. If I had spoken, the speech would have left my mouth as golden as wings. My eyes were like death as they tried for pity and filled the place. I can see by his actions that he is showing a healthy interest. But I can't comprehend a man being interested in me beyond a booking, with no more cash or credit and only their caring as payment. Is it worth the risk? An angel has arrived at the Vic inside the muscles of the guard. The angel is trying to hand me a note from behind a ticket box window, and each time I try to reach it my palms bump onto the glass. Roxanne said, 'You must never give up and get lonely, Nikita.' The more I want him to love me, the further away he feels.
I get off on the sensation of the waiting game filled with fantasy, insecurity and the frustration of never catching up. In this game there's no disappointment. I turned and saw an old client standing near the bar. It was as if his voice had spoken inside me. I was stuck in a hard place, between the guard I wanted to love and the client who had already paid. For now I had the attention of both men. I stood there without an identity, looking for my reflection. For the first time in many months I felt sad and didn't want my job no more. Above all I would always choose mutual intimacy, go anywhere for romance. If only we were in love already and I wouldn't have to be paid for my cunt tonight. But that ain't happening in a hurry, so I'm gonna have to tap that ugly lonely client on the shoulder, and get him around the corner and sell it to him again. Sometimes dreams can't be kept alive or keep me in love or money when they're old, old dreams. A person's only got so much faith inside their hearts. The cord of the guard's radio brushed along my nipple as he passed, and it turned as hard and cold as the ice in Antarctica. Where had my dreams gone and why had I let them go? I rang my father in Queensland, who was telling everyone I was an escort. He said, 'They all reckon you're doing it but I don't, Nikita. I believe you and that's the main thing.' Sex worker or not there were all our little secrets inside ourselves and our half-truths to each other to be dealt with. This was mostly due to a nurturing instinct, an obligation to protect and conceal. There were days when men would get their pussy cheap and nasty. There would be no lovey-dovey bull twang like Roxanne gave them. I said to my father, 'I've lost faith.' Faith was the one thing he had always hung on to. Even though it made no sense, it had served him well. It kept him going. It was a small red stone from a creek bed that he had collected on one of his walks. He gave it to me. 'This is a lot bigger than your body,' he said, 'hang onto it now, Nikita. But know when to let it go.' It ended up lodged in my heart. Some days my heart aches and I feel it there, turning all hard and dull. I said, 'What do you think caused all this pain to come about?' He said, 'It was who you were going out with down south.' I said, 'The drug dealer from St Kilda?' 'Yes, that psycho. He did a lot of damage.' 'Yeah, but he protected me.' 'Yes, but it was protection with a high price.' |
