Archive for the ‘Liam Irish’ Category


Posted on: October 25th, 2011 by Madison Lake No Comments
        Miguel stood in the doorway, looking toward the small bed. She looked lovely and serene lying there, naked against the darkness. He still didn’t understand how he’d ended up there. He had gone out that night with entirely different motives in mind, and through a series of accidents had ended up there, with her. 
He continued to stare at those rosy cheeks, her smooth pale shoulders peeking out from under white satin sheets, her slender neck that irresistibly called out for him. If he had his way, he’d climb back in beside her, snuggle up to her warm body and make wild, passionate love all morning, all day. She was perfect – perfect for him. Had he paid more attention earlier to her needs, to who she really was, he may have determined her finer qualities much sooner, but he had been too distracted to notice. At least, he thought, he’d figured it out now, which is all that mattered.
  Miguel did not believe in accidents, nor did he believe the story she told him late last night was false. They all knew by now that Dominic Diaz was a good for nothing swindler and thief who had been ripping off The Foxy Lady for years, unbeknownst to its rightful owners Mitch and Fran Del Monte. What’s more, he had wreaked havoc there the previous night, busting the club up to the tune of thousands of dollars that neither Mitch nor anyone else had. Even though they all knew Dom was the culprit, without proof, they could hardly approach him outright. Miguel wasn’t sure why she had blurted out this new information to him, why she trusted him above all else. Not until now. 

Sure, they’d had a few drinks, but he knew what she told him came from the heart, a sort of desperate plea for help. And although he was a newbie to their group, at least she trusted him. Miguel knew she had a good heart, and those who have good hearts easily recognize others with the same. Now, the question was, what to do? He figured he should tell the others, but he needed time to figure out how. He was, after all, a bit of a threat to old Irish, but nonetheless, Liam was a figurehead, the ringleader in their attempt to thwart Dominic’s efforts. Timing would be everything, but he also knew time was not on their side. 
Today he’d leave his lovely lady sleeping and head back to the club to see who was still hanging around. Even a day after the trashing of The Lady, there was a huge mess to be cleaned. They knew the CLOSED sign on the front door couldn’t be there for long. Mitch could not afford to lose another day’s income, or could he afford to lose his dancers who needed their wages, or his clients who kept The Lady afloat. Miguel felt he should be at the club as much as he could to help out. Besides, he could use a drink. Maybe Della would have a minute to talk with him. He liked Della. Everybody liked Della. Then, when the sun rose, he’d walk to Bean There, his regular coffee shop, mull things over with an espresso and his usual, two eggs over easy, bacon and hash browns. Answers would eventually present themselves. They always did.
Before heading out the door, Miguel turned once again toward his sleeping beauty. She took his breath away. The golden curls against the pillow and falling loosely around her face looked like a human halo. Covered by a thin, satin sheet, the outline of her body gave off the hint of a marble sculpture – Venus de Milo or Aphrodite of Cnidus – the same curvaceousness, the same full, round breasts. Miguel felt pulled toward her strength and vulnerability. In the past, he’d avoided getting involved with women who were too strong for him, but now it was a huge attraction. For some reason that he didn’t understand, this woman made his heart throb, made him feel like he would never need anyone else in his world again, but her. She was everything. It didn’t even frighten him that they had come together so quickly and easily. He trusted his intuition, and always had. Why would he falter now?
From his position in the doorway, Miguel continued thinking about how his life had changed since he had walked into Snippets Salon for a haircut that day. Again, he did not believe in accidents. He believed everything that happened in life, happened for a reason. Sometimes he was teased for this way of looking at the world, but again, Miguel had an uncanny sense of things. For instance, Liam Irish, who had become somewhat of an arch rival, was nonetheless a man who Miguel looked up to. There was a lot to be learned from someone like that, and Miguel intended to be open and observant when in his presence. Della was another gem. Her gentle spirit but great inner capacity made her a woman to be respected, and she was. Mitch and Fran, were perhaps minor characters in the greater scheme of things, however, their love and loyalty not only to the club and its employees, but to one another, set them miles above most people he had known in the past. Mitch also came across as a father figure to most of them in the group. Not growing up with a father of his own, Miguel liked that about Mitch. Fran was just the icing on the cake. She kept them all going with that straightforwardness of hers, along with her wicked sense of humor. Then there was Genevieve. What could he possibly say about her other than G was G. She  was special.
Looking over at the bed, his eyes once again came into focus, and reality hit. The early pre-dawn light that filtered through the window was making him anxious. He knew he should make a move, get on with matters at hand. There was so much to be done. But when he saw her, time stood still and another urgency tugged at him. Unable to resist any longer, he shed his clothes and crawled back into bed, wrapping his arms around her warm body. She stirred and turned toward him, eyes still closed. Their lips met and locked in warm, passionate wetness, his desire more than he could control. This love was more than he ever imagined possible, and he could not seem to get enough of it. 
Gently, yet with an animal’s hunger, Miguel rolled her relaxed body over and climbed on top. Her legs spread impulsively, craving to feel his hardness press down on her. But instead, his body rose above hers, teasing with a feather-light touch of his member against her belly, up and down her legs. Her moans increased with each stroke, each brush of skin on skin. Arching, her stomach reached up to meet him. She wanted to feel him, wanted more, suddenly desperate to have all of him like she’d had last night. Impatient as she was, not in the mood for titillating antics, Miguel let the weight of his yearning body come down on her and easily entered. Unlike last night, today their lovemaking was urgent, quick, both of them satisfied with a few deep, intense thrusts. Craning to find each others mouths again, Miguel placed his hand behind her head and helped guide her to him. Their kisses were deliciously sensual, and seemed to last and last. Finally they collapsed into the soft, satin sheets. It didn’t take her long to drift back off to dreamland. 
Miguel climbed quietly out of bed and got dressed. As much as he’d like to stay with her, to spend the day slipping in and out of passionate sex and sleep, there were more pressing matters to tend to. Luckily, she would be there when he returned.
Bending down, he kissed the tender crease of Savannah’s neck. 
“Sleep, sleep, my darling,” he whispered. “Until we meet again.”
…Stay tuned…Chapter 16 will be published next Tuesday, November 1st…

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Posted on: October 4th, 2011 by Madison Lake No Comments

Mitch arrived at the club around eleven, a bit early for him, but by the way he hovered around the bar tossing back shots, Liam figured he must have had some serious business to tend to. Fifteen minutes later Dom arrived. He was dressed to the nines, a maroon silk shirt, unbuttoned to his midriff, where a gold chain hung in among his chest hair. He left his tailored leather jacket hanging open, to show off a gold plated belt buckle the size of Miami. The bottom of his tight black trousers barely fit over his grey and beige snakeskin cowboy boots, which may as well have had spurs on them with the noise they made.

“Gimme a JD, Harry, will ya?” 

“Comin’ right up, boss.”
Harry grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels from the bar shelf and poured a generous amount into a tumbler. He handed it to Dom.
“Bottoms-up.” Dominic raised his glass to Harry and pounded back the whiskey, followed by a vigorous shake of his head. “Gotta keep up with my pal here.” Dominic winked at Mitch, who proceeded to turn away.
“Aw, c’mon now, Mitch. We’re pals, right?” Dominic slapped his hand on Mitch’s back and pulled him in close until he was breathing down his neck. Leaning in, but looking out into the crowd, he whispered, “We’re such good pals that you’re gonna give me a heckava fucking deal for this joint, ain’t that right Mitchy baby?”

Mitch squirmed out of Dom’s embrace, and Dominic laughed heartily. 
“What the fuck’s a matter with you, Mitch? This is how we do business, right? Now, have yourself another drink. Harry, pour Mitch another drink.” He turned to Mitch. “What are ya having, Mitch, Crown? Harry, make that two Crowns.”
“No, Dom, I’m having lighter fluid,” Mitch said with dry sarcasm. “Harry, get Dom some lighter fluid. I’ll have a Crown, neat.” 
Liam chuckled quietly from where he and Genevieve sat in the corner, shielded in shadow.
“You have to admit,” Genevieve said. “That was pretty clever.” 
Just then the side door opened and in walked three of Dom’s goons. They sauntered over to the bar and lingered there, glancing nonchalantly around the room. One of them ordered a water with a twist, leaned against the bar to watch the show. The other two just stood around chewing gum, looking bored. Within a few minutes the door opened again and Fran appeared out from the shadows of the dark alleyway. Smoldering in a fitted gold lame evening dress, with a Tiffany heart around her neck and an ornate gold charm bracelet on her left wrist, she looked the perfect part of the club owners wife. Barely able to walk in her strappy Jimmy Choo’s, she did her best to stay upright while making her way over to the bar where Dominic stood with her husband, Mitch, their tongues hanging out. Liam, who had been watching the men’s jousting match with interest, now turned to Genevieve.
“Is this your solution?” 
Genevieve looked down and smiled coyly, hiding her nervous enthusiasm.
“What are you doing here Franny!” They overheard Mitch remark. “You never come down to the club. It’s late. Shouldn’t you be in bed? You should be in bed.” Mitch knew he was lecturing his wife and making a scene, but he didn’t know what else to do. Everyone at the bar stared as they watched Fran teeter to a halt. 
“I’ll have a whiskey sour, please, Harry. Lots of sour.” Then she looked at her husband and said bluntly. “I came to see you, honey. G said you’d be here. I came to talk.”
Mitch was speechless. This visit was completely unexpected and now he was faced with dealing with Dominic in front of his wife, or vice-versa. Dumbfounded, he didn’t know what to do or where to begin. Start with the truth, he thought, but how? All of a sudden, from the back corner of the upper seats Genevieve appeared in her strapless minidress and brown wedged heels. Her hair was pulled back in a bun, but loose strands fell onto her shoulders and down along her cheekbones, seductively framing her face. Liam was at her side in a flash. It looked like a scene from the Godfather, only with the most oddball cast of characters; Mitch, dressed as always like a used car salesman in plaid trousers, light green shirt, dark green sport jacket, and colorful paisley necktie, Fran, his tarty looking wife, Genevieve, the evocative heroine, and Liam Irish, the burly tattooed hero. The cheap looking con man, Dominic Diaz, of course played the bad guy, along with his band of not so merry men. Around them circled an array of made-for-movie misfits, including Savannah Porsche, Mindy Maverick, Della, and of course Harry the bartender.
“Line em up, Harry. A round.” Dom slammed his shot glass on the bar and looked around  for approval.
“Actually, Dominic,” Genevieve said matter-of-factly. “You’ll have to excuse us. We need a word with Mitch and Fran if you don’t mind. Alone.” Mitch looked at Genevieve with fire in his eyes.
“What the fuck? Who are you all of a sudden, a Prima Donna? Who made you god? This is my…my…”
“What? Your club, Dom?” Genevieve glared at him in satisfaction. Dominic was silent.
“Well, you had me fooled,” said a bewildered looking Fran, drawing first blood. “I could have sworn you bought this place from us five years ago, only to discover via the nightclub grapevine that you didn’t. And now you want to buy it again? What’s wrong with this picture? Mitch, what’s wrong with this picture?”
The cast was spellbound, waiting for someone – anyone – to step up to the plate. Mitch shuffled uncomfortably, picked up his glass and drained what was already gone. The music started and a new act began, which drew the attention of the patrons away from the scene at the bar. Genevieve looked at Dom to remind him that he should take a hike, so Liam took the opportunity to steer Mitch and Fran over the where he and G had been sitting. Dom shot Genevieve another searing look before he walked away.
“You think you’ve got this all figured out, don’t ya bitch? Well, I’ll tell you, you don’t know the half of it.” He paused. “If I were you, miss priss, I’d watch your back.” He spat on the floor. Genevieve was unfazed.
“Shut up Dom. Don’t threaten me. I’m not afraid of you anymore.”
“You outta be.” The backstage door slammed behind him, and he was gone.
By the time a rattled Genevieve reached the others in the back corner seat, Liam had begun to lead the conversation toward resolution. 
“Listen, Mitch. There’s no reason for you to be upset. This is a simple matter of dishonesty – on Dom’s part, not yours.” His eyes didn’t leave Mitch’s but he could feel Fran staring at him, wondering, needing answers, and frankly, so did he. 
“You own this club,” Liam went on, grasping at straws. “You always have. We all know that times are tough, but you don’t have to sell your club to make ends meet. There are other ways.”
Mitch sat for a long time, as if trying to think of what those other ways were. The pitch of the music got louder and more frenetic. Liam tried to keep both Mitch and Fran focussed but it was getting more difficult to do with the show going on. He could see lights and colorful movement from onstage, but hesitated to look so as not to distract them any more than they were already. Della swung by the table with a tray of drinks; one whiskey sour, one Crown, on the rocks this time, one Highball, and one Ginger on ice with a twist of lime. Liam nodded at her and smiled. He wished he could include Della on their conversation. He knew she would be an asset, supporting both Mitch and Fran, as well as giving some insight into the goings on at the club, sharing things that they wouldn’t – couldn’t possibly know. But her time would come, and he knew she understood this. He and Genevieve would catch her up on things later on.  
“Mitch, why didn’t you tell me? We used to talk about everything. What happened? What is it you can’t tell me?” Fran’s boobs were spilling out of her flashy tight lame dress, which made it hard to take her seriously, but she sounded so desperate, almost defeated. Mitch kept his head down, embarrassed that he hadn’t been honest with this wife. He knew better than to mess with Fran, and wondered if this disaster could ever be fixed. Liam made a move to butt-in, to try to help make things right between them, when Genevieve moved her hand under the table and placed it on his thigh in a gesture to ease him off. She squeezed gently. He too, reached his hand down to meet hers and their fingers clasped onto each other eagerly. The excitement rose in each of them, but they were quickly brought back to the table when Fran spoke, almost screamed.
“Mitch! What’s going on? What kind of place has this turned into?” Fran stood up in indignation. As she did, her drink went flying off the table, ice and whiskey everywhere. They all looked at Fran, who was now ashen white, then followed her eyes to where she was looking. Then they saw what she saw. Up on center stage, spotlight beaming, in full view of the entire Foxy Lady Strip Club, was Mindy Maverick, spread eagle, wearing nothing but a grin.
stay tuned…chapter 13 will be posted next Tuesday, Oct 11th… 

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Frances Del Monte was sitting on the sofa in the waiting area, holding a mug of coffee, tears streaming down her cheeks, when Genevieve and Miguel unlocked the salon door and walked in. Liam was beside her with his arm wrapped comfortingly around her shoulders, trying to console, but to no avail.
            “Why didn’t he tell me, Irish? That’s what I don’t understand. He usually tells me everything.” Fran began sobbing again.
            “Genevieve, would you mind closing the blinds on the door so people think we’re closed.” He looked back at Fran. “There, there Franny. We’ll sort this out.”
            Genevieve did as she was told, while Miguel walked to the staff room to get a drink of water. Really, he just wanted to get out of the way. He disliked seeing people upset. It made him uncomfortable. Genevieve remained with Liam and Fran.
            Suddenly Fran brightened and straightened up.
            “Irish, I want to go home.” She glanced over at Genevieve. “You can come too, G.”
            Genevieve looked at Liam, who looked bewildered.
            “What purpose would that serve, Fran? It’ll just make Mitch feel ganged up on. We have to come up with a better plan if we’re going to work this out.”
            Fran looked dejected. Her shoulders drooped again and her eyes began to well up with tears. Then Genevieve piped in.
            “I have a solution.”

* * * * * *
Later that night, Liam took his usual seat in the back corner of The Foxy Lady. Savannah Porsche was dancing when he arrived, which made him slightly uncomfortable. He hadn’t been back to the club since their tryst the night of the big showdown. Was she expecting him to see her after tonight’s show, to meet her backstage? He wasn’t sure he was prepared to deal with the rejection she was sure to feel, but he also wasn’t prepared to continue seeing her. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Savannah. She was a decent person, and beautiful. There was really no reason in the world he shouldn’t be interested in her, or at least no apparent reason. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something didn’t feel right. He had moved out of his womanizing phase long ago, and knew he was ready, after all these years, to let that special person into his life. Someone to replicate the feeling of love he’d had years ago with Simony Chiavary, his first love, his only true love. Liam didn’t know why he felt ready for more, or what exactly it was he was looking for, but being around Savannah, sweet as she was, didn’t fill him with what he wanted to feel. The sex, he admitted, had been good. She knew how to pleasure a man, and he hoped he hadn’t lost his touch either, even though it had been a while, but he just wasn’t interested in her.      
Savannah shimmied down the onstage pole, wearing only a thong, as tassels danced upon her ripe nipples. Maybe I should rethink things, he thought, and for a quick flash was tempted. The situation was perfect. He came to The Foxy Lady on a regular basis. It could be that simple, a weekly or twice weekly rendezvous, nothing more. What harm was there in having a little fun, for god sakes?  But he’d done that before and it had brought him nothing but heartache. Too many damaged women, too many ruined marriages, somebody always got hurt. Had he turned a new moral leaf in love and lust, just as he had with his life choices of leaving the criminal life behind? Still, he could feel the aching bulge in his pants rise, the desire.
At that very moment, Genevieve arrived and sat down beside him.
“Hi.” She smiled, and Liam felt all at once comfortable and at home. The ache in his groin subsided, but his desire hadn’t left, just somehow shifted. Within seconds Della appeared at the table.
“What are you doing sitting down on the job, missy? Aren’t you due to go on next?”
Della, who had a heart of gold, now towered condescendingly above young Genevieve, her hand on her hip, tray balanced with the other. She glared down at her.
            “Della, relax,” Genevieve said, not the least bit phased. “I took the night off. I’m here with Irish on another job; an assignment I’d guess you’d call it.” Genevieve reached over and smiling, touched Liam’s hand. Della just stood there with her mouth hanging open.
            “Della, it’s okay,” Liam said. “I asked G for assistance with something. It’s no biggie. I just need the help of someone in-the-know around here.”
            Della looked deflated. “Well, I’m in the know, sugar. Don’t I count?”
            “Of course you do, Della, and you’ll find out what’s going on soon enough, promise. In fact, when you get a break, come and join us. We’ll fill you in.”
As always, Liam was inclusive of those who he considered dependable, and who he cared about. He knew Della was both.
            “So, can you bring lady G here a Highball, and me my usual, Ginger on the rocks?”
            “You got it, sugar.” Della winked at Liam, and glared again at Genevieve, but less icy this time. She really just had to show who was boss, and that was fine with Genevieve.
            “So, G, is everything ready to roll?” Liam looked into her big, brown eyes and for a moment lost himself. He knew she replied because he saw her lips moving, but the words did not compute, like they were floating in a fine mist around his brain. He stared into her eyes and she continued to gaze back into his, as if waiting for a reply.
            “Sorry, G, what did you say?”
            “Yes, Irish,” she laughed out loud. “Ready to roll.”
            The music changed and a new dancer appeared. Mindy the Maverick, dressed in a bulky array of colored feathers, including a boa and headdress, suggestively peeled off one layer at a time as she strode provocatively around the stage. The audience, mostly regulars, knew the outcome, so they cheered and whistled loudly as each item hit the floor, every discard baring a little more flesh. By the time the music would end, they knew that Mindy Maverick would be lying completely naked upon the stage, legs spread to the imposing center spotlight.  
            “Hey Irish, hon, how ya doin’ tonight?” Savannah Porsche slithered into the seat beside Liam and nuzzled up close. She had no scruples and was determined to hone in on Liam like he was her prize. Completely ignoring Genevieve, she placed her hand on his thigh and began rubbing it rather erotically.
            “I’ve missed you around here, Irish. Care to pick up where we left off?”
            Genevieve smiled to herself. Then, looking squarely into her eyes, she reached over and gently but firmly lifted Savannah’s hand off of Liam’s leg.
            “Excuse us, Savannah. Irish and I were just in the middle of an important business discussion. When we’re finished, and if he so desires, he’ll come and find you. For now, do you mind?” Genevieve gestured with her eyes the exit doors, then back to Savannah. Without knowing why, Liam lifted his arm and placed it around Genevieve’s shoulders, scooting his body closer to hers. She kept her eyes evenly on Savannah’s, but inside a flutter of nerves stirred in her belly. Savannah, not sure how to react, stood up indignantly.
            “Well, I can certainly smell a ho if I’m near one, Ms. G, and you stink. If you want him, you can have him. He ain’t worth it, believe me.” Liam turned beet red, but Genevieve didn’t notice. She was too busy watching Savannah storm off, savoring the moment. In a way she felt badly. She had nothing against Savannah, or at least never had, but she resented the way she had moved in on their privacy like a know-it-all, making a point of claiming possession of Irish. The nerve! Genevieve was well aware that they’d had their night, but it didn’t mean she owned him.
Della arrived with their drinks, and trying not to stare, placed them on the table on top of two cocktail napkins she had set down. Suddenly, Genevieve was aware that Liam’s arm was still around her shoulders, and wondered what Della was thinking. Liam seemed not to notice.
“Well, if you two have all that you need, I’ll just leave you alone.” She continued to stare at them, and Liam and Genevieve stared back. “My break’s at eleven thirty. Don’t go away. I’ll be back then.” With that, Della turned on her heels and walked back to the bar.
Liam and Genevieve sat there together for a couple of minutes, until the music for the next act flooded the silence.
            “Irish,” Genevieve said, glancing up at him with dark, inquisitive eyes. “You weren’t using me to get rid of Savannah, were you?”
            Liam looked down, and for a moment remained very quiet. The club was filled with the usual cacophony; late night clamor of clinking glasses, raucous laughter, jovial shouting, and music, but the space surrounding the two of them at Liam’s corner table was one of peaceful contentment. Silence hung in suspended anticipation. Then he turned to Genevieve. He did not remove his arm from around her shoulder, but gently squeezed as he said,
            “I would never use you, G.”
            Before he knew it they were lip-locked in a rapturous embrace, and for the first time in many years, Liam Irish felt passionate heat again, not just in his loins, but in his heart.
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Posted on: September 13th, 2011 by Madison Lake No Comments
Miguel’s plan was to whisk Genevieve up the I-195 E to Surfside for the day. He knew a couple of secluded beaches where they could fool around. After their risqué encounter on the floor of Snippets the day they met, he figured she’d be up for some fun in the sun, but he soon realized his plan was not going to happen. Genevieve was now busy helping Liam out in the salon, even though it was her day off. Damn Irish, he thought. What does he have that I don’t?
            “I made plans for us, you know,” Miguel said to Genevieve, as she helped Kathy to her chair. “It’s your day off, for crissakes. Don’t you want to get the hell out of this blasted heat and head to the beach?”
He was almost pleading, but her interest in him seemed lost. He couldn’t figure out what had happened between their lustful tryst and now. Mind you, they hadn’t seen each other since that day, but that wasn’t his fault, nor was it to his liking. He had called her every day, but talking on the phone just didn’t have the same effect as spending time together. He liked Genevieve – a lot. Not only was she drop dead gorgeous, she was smart, sassy, and he had to admit, part of the intrigue was the fact that she was unavailable to him. If they spoke regularly and got to know each other, he thought she’d realize he felt more for her than a passing fling. He wanted to be her boyfriend, but getting close seemed next to impossible.

Miguel had always found it far too easy to meet and hook up with beautiful women. Because of this, he had taken all of them for granted, enjoying brief liaisons that he would end when things began to heat up or get too emotional. So far this practice had worked for him. He was never lacking in companionship, dates, or great sex. It wasn’t that Miguel was a bad person. He treated all his women well when they were together, and ended things on a good note, which is why he had so many female friends. Sometimes he wondered if they might be waiting to see if he became available to them again, but then, that was just his narcissism talking. But Genevieve was different. This was the first time Miguel had to work at getting a woman’s attention, and keeping it. He wasn’t used to this kind of chase. If that day at the salon was a fraction of what the two of them were capable of, he wanted more. Genevieve’s indifference simply made her all the hotter, and made him devilishly interested and wildly horny. 
Just then the front door opened and in walked Frances Del Monte. Genevieve looked up at her, unable to disguise her surprise.
            “Wow. I guess you weren’t expecting me, were you, G?” called Frances, responding to Genevieve’s reaction. “Irish around?” 
            She nodded in the direction of the back room. “He’s mixing color.”
            “Well, tell him I’m here, would you, sweetheart? I’ve got to get a quick bang trim…and see him about…another matter.”
            “Sure,” answered Genevieve, playing it cool. “Just have a seat, Fran. You might have to wait till he applies the color on Kathy’s hair, but I’ll let him know you’re here.”
            “Hey listen, don’t worry about me. I’ve got all the time in the world.” Fran let out a loud cackle and took a seat in the waiting area with a pile of People and Star magazines to thumb through.
Genevieve was dumbstruck. After just disclosing to Liam, in detail, all the new dirt about Mitch, and the pending sale of The Foxy Lady, she couldn’t believe their luck. Getting more information was going to be much easier than they expected.
Within minutes, Liam emerged and went straight to his chair where Kathy was patiently waiting. Genevieve moved aside to make room for him.
“Check out your new walk-in.” She gestured in the direction of the waiting area, where Fran had her nose in the Star. She didn’t even notice them looking at her. Liam smiled knowingly at Genevieve.
“How timely. Did you call her?”
“Nooo! She came in for a ‘bang trim’, but she says she has something to discuss with you.”
“I was just kidding, G. But I must say it is timely. I wonder what she wants to talk about?”
As he ran his skilled fingers through her hair to determine how to cut it after the color was processed, he peered over at Fran, trying to figure out what was so important for her to come in. Then he noticed Miguel, who seemed uncomfortable standing in the wings waiting for his date. Genevieve seemed in no hurry to get out of there.
            “Hey buddy, if you’re going to hang around, you may as well make yourself useful.” Liam was trying to help out by including him, but Miguel seemed to take offense.
            “I would, Liam, but I’ve made plans for G and me to go to the beach today.” He looked over at Genevieve, who had her head down while sterilizing some combs. “G, you almost ready?”
            Genevieve looked up, first at Miguel, then at Liam, as if to get permission from one of them. They said nothing. She wanted to stick around to hear what Frances had to say. After all, she was the one who told Liam everything she had overheard at the club, and she was the one who could access more information, if and when necessary. After confiding in him, she was now confused, and annoyed, that Liam was not being more forthcoming about having her stick around the salon. Frustrated, and not knowing what else to do, Genevieve relented. She left the combs soaking in Barbicide and stormed off. Miguel triumphantly followed, without looking back. When she got to the door, she hollered, “If you need me, Irish, I have my cell with me.” Then, reluctantly, she closed the door.
            “Aren’t they cute together?” said Kathy. Liam smiled uncomfortably as he watched then go out the door.
            While Kathy’s bleach processed, Liam seated Fran in the seat by the window, out of earshot.
            “So, Franny, need a bang trim do you?”
            Fran sat down in breathless exasperation. “Oh, Irish. I don’t know what to do.”
            Liam looked at Fran in the mirror as he draped a black cape around her shoulders and ran a comb through her hair. Her bangs seemed fine, but Liam knew that was only an excuse to come in for a chat, and if Fran came to talk, it was usually important.
            “What’s going on, Fran?” Liam asked, in all seriousness. Fran did all she could to remain composed. She looked over at Kathy nervously. Then she whispered as softly as Fran could manage. “I think my Mitch is having an affair!”
            Liam was shocked. This was not what he expected to hear and he didn’t have an easy fix for her like he so often did. He was speechless, Fran continued.
            “I just never thought my Mitch would be the type, Irish. I mean, he’s a great guy, don’t get me wrong, but is he really the type those sleaze-bag gold-diggers are looking for?”
            Liam couldn’t help but smile at Fran’s way of framing the situation.
            “Franny,” Liam said in a soothing voice. “What makes you so sure Mitch is having an affair?”
            “Well…” Fran took a deep breath. “He’s been acting really strange the past few months. You know, we used to sit around after dinner and watch TV. The Bachelor Pad was one of his favorite shows, but don’t repeat that.” She winked. “Anyway, he’s started going out after dinner. Said he had,” and she mimed air quotes, “business to do, and that he’d be back soon, but really, he wouldn’t get home till one or two in the morning. That’s the oldest line in the book. What does he take me for, a dummy?”
            It was a difficult situation. Was Fran ready to know the truth about her husband and his ‘business’ affairs? Could she handle the sordid truth? Which was worse, knowing her husband had invested in the underground club industry and was now dealing with thugs, or that he was having an affair? Liam took a chance.
            “Franny, listen.” Liam took a moment to compose his thoughts. “Okay, well, you see Fran, you don’t know this about me, and you do know more than most people know about me, but,” Liam paused, again waiting to find the right words. “Fran, what people do in their spare time is nobody’s business. I mean, everybody has a personal life, and some of it may be just that – personal.” Liam was snipping her bangs as he spoke. Fran watched intently in the mirror, her face changing from inquisitive to nervous, to a bit concerned.
“You see, one of the things I enjoy in life, Fran, is women. I like women.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that, Liam. Not that it would have mattered,” she added with a blush. Liam hardly noticed the blunder.
“So, something I do in my spare time, is I like to go for a few drinks after work. I sometimes go to the, to the…The Foxy Lady strip club.
He took a deep breath and waited, scissors held in suspended animation. He glanced over at Kathy, busily flipping through her Elle magazine, and wondered if she overheard their conversation, or even funnier, whether she had ever stepped foot in The Foxy Lady before. He doubted it, but there were stranger things.
“Oh, I know all about The Foxy Lady. My father, bless his soul, gave The Lady to my husband, Mitch, after he passed. It was in his will. Father started that club, back in the forties. It was a happening joint, back in its heyday. Live jazz, classy burlesque. None of the cheap girls you see nowadays.” Fran gazed into the mirror deep in thought. “Yeah, those were the days I’d bet. But,” she sighed. “That was then, and this is now.”
Liam, hardly believing what he was hearing, pressed on.
“So, you know about it then, the business, The Foxy Lady?”
“Of course I do. What does this have to do with Mitch, and his affair?”
“Fran, Mitch isn’t having an affair. Mitch is trying to keep from being swindled out of The Foxy Lady by a bunch of low-life gangsters. He goes out to the club at night trying desperately to hang on to the business for your sake. That’s what your Mitch is doing.”
An eerie silence suddenly fell on the room. Fran turned a ghostly white, her newly cropped bangs falling in crooked angles across the top of her forehead.
“That’s ridiculous, Irish. Mitch sold The Lady five years ago, to some guy named Dominic.”
…Stay tuned…Chapter 10 of Salon Antics will be posted next Tuesday, September 20th…
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