Judy's audition

“Is Bonnie here tonight?” I ask, fingers crossed. She might have finished and gone home.

“Yeah, she’s on just now,” says Ronnie. “I’ll let her know you’re here, right?”

“Yeah, I just need to see her for five minutes.”

“Cool.”

He gestures to the back office. There are some uncomfortable looking chairs against the wall. I know they are uncomfortable because I’ve sat in them before. I plonk my bum in one now and pick up an old magazine, flick through it, just looking at the pictures. Five minutes seems a very long time. I look about. There isn’t anyone in the office, the lights are off.

I remember I went to see the owner of the club there, last year. I was pretty pissed off with school and thinking about quitting. Bonnie had left and I figured if she had done it, so could I. So I waited on one of these chairs for what seemed like hours.

I was really nervous, almost peeing because I'm scared about what I'm doing. You know that feeling that you get when you are really scared, you feel really hot all over? Even my eyelids feel hot and sticky. I guess I'm wearing too much make up, electric blue around my eyes and really red lipstick and I'm worried it is going to start running, but I don’t dare wipe the sweat away in case I smudge it. More than anything I need to go to the toilet, because I had a coke before coming here.

I wait for ages that time as well, until the owner, who called himself Ryan, walked into his office. He talks on the phone for a bit, and I'm just about to sneak off to find a toilet when he sticks his head out the door and says “Are you the girl who wants to dance?” I nod and he jerks his head to show I could come in.

Mr. Ryan is a biggish Pakeha guy, pale fleshy face and brown hair that lies across the top of his head. His tummy hangs over his belt and his shirt buttons strain against its weight. There are big sweat patches under his armpits. He licks his lips as I sat down in the chair opposite him.

“Okay, love, your name’s Judy, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Mike Ryan. I’m the owner of this club. You want to become a dancer?”

“Guess.”

“You know that this is a men’s club?” I nod.

“You know that the sort of dancers we look for are exotic dancers?” I nod again.

“That means strippers, not to piss about?” I nod.

“Great,” he says. “Ever worked in a place like this before?” I shake my head this time.

“Good,” he says, nodding like he’s pleased. “You wouldn’t have a problem with dancing on stage? In front of strangers?” I shake my head again, though I’m pretty terrified of the idea. He looks pleased again.

“How did you hear about The Red Room?”

“I just heard about it. Saw the place in the phone book.” I’m not going to mention that I know her to Mr. Ryan and I haven’t told Bonnie that I’m here, or thinking about quitting school. She’d just nag and tell me not to do it, and try to give me money if I said that was why I wanted to leave. So I figured I’d do it all with out her knowing.

“Are you still at school, Judy?” asks Mr. Ryan. I squirm a bit on the chair, because I need to pee, and because I’m scared if I say yes he’ll tell me to get lost. But I bob my head to say that yeah, I’m still at school. “I can leave any time. I just need to get a job first,” I mumble.

“We can probably sort something out for that” he says casually. “You can even work in the evenings if you want to stay in school.” He licks his lips again, which is gross. He doesn’t do it quickly like you do when your lips are dry, he runs his tongue right from one side of his mouth to another, so you can’t miss it.

He says, “Do really want to earn money, Judy?”

I shrug. “I guess” I say. “Who doesn’t?”

“You’ll make good money dancing” he says. “But if you really want to make money there are ways you can make even more. Are you interested?”

I nod, and he licks his lips again and carries on. “Some of our girls do more than dance. Some of the clients will pay them for private dances in the rooms out back. Or more than dancing, if you understand what I mean. But that’s optional. None of the girls have to do that, it’s their choice. Would you be interested in that side of the job?”

I nod, because I know Bonnie does that. She says it’s gross the first few times but you get used to it. After all, I reckon I can always change my mind. “That’s good, Judy. That’s very good” he says. “I think we can probably find a job for you. Now, because of the nature of this job, I need to know that you’re not going to back out on me. Are you feeling comfortable?”

I nod, though I feel sick. I know what he’s going to ask now. And I still need to pee.

“What I’d like you to do, Judy, is take your top off for me. So I can see that you’re not going to back out on me or all the men who are going to want to see what you’ve got.”

Even though Bonnie told me about this bit, I find I can’t do it. I reach up to the button at the top of my blouse, and I manage to pop it through, but after that my fingers become really stupid and can’t manage the other one. He nods and grins at me, as I struggle with the next one. Then I feel like I’m going to throw up. I really, really don’t want to be here. I jump up from the chair, so quickly that I knock it backwards, and grab my little hand bag from the floor. “Sorry, I changed my mind,” I mumble. Without waiting to hear if he says anything I get the Hell out and push through the door into the alley, which stinks of rubbish and pee but smells a whole lot better than the inside of that office.

So I’m kinda glad, sitting on the uncomfortable seats waiting for Bonnie to finish whatever she’s doing, that Mr. Ryan ain’t in the office. I guess he’s at home, letting the club get on with its business. I never told Bonnie I’d been to see Mr. Ryan. I’d seen him a couple of times since, when I’d come around to meet Bonnie, but he didn’t seem to remember me. Guess he sees heaps of girls in that office.