The Club by Mandasue Heller Page A

after . . .’ Pausing, she flapped her hand in a subconscious brush the pain aside gesture. ‘My younger brother was killed, you see, and I don’t think she ever really got over it.’
    ‘Jeez, that’s rough.’ Tony squinted at her through the smoke. ‘Died of a broken heart, did she?’
    ‘No, Alzheimer’s. It was a mixed blessing, though, because it affects the memory, so she seemed to forget all about Damian once it kicked in. She didn’t recognise any of us by the end.’
    ‘Man, you’ve had it bad,’ Tony commented sympathetically. ‘So, now you got no one?’
    ‘A sister,’ Jenna told him. ‘But I don’t really see too much of her, because she married when I was quite young and moved to Australia.’ Frowning now, she reached for her drink, wondering why she was revealing so much personal stuff to this stranger.
    ‘You’re doing good, considering you’ve had to go it alone,’ Tony said admiringly. ‘You can’t knock yourself for that.’
    ‘I’m managing,’ she murmured.
    ‘Better than managing,’ Tony persisted. ‘Like I said, this is a great place – and I should know, I’ve had one of my own.’
    ‘ Really ?’ Jenna was surprised. She hadn’t actually considered what he might do for a living, but running a nightclub wouldn’t have been her first guess.
    ‘Yeah, but it wasn’t really my bag, so I sold up and shipped out to “good old Blighty”.’
    Groaning at his affected English accent, Jenna shook her head. ‘That was terrible.’
    ‘Sounded better than half the clowns I’ve been listening to tonight,’ he chuckled. ‘Some of ’em sound like they’re munching on their own bazoomas.’
    ‘Ah, the actors .’ Jenna gave him a conspiratorial smile. ‘Don’t let them hear you saying that. They spend good money learning how to speak like that.’
    ‘Yeah? Well, maybe they should put their dough in the bank and save us the pain of having to listen to it.’ Blowing out yet more smoke, Tony brought the subject back to her. ‘So, what’s your plans for this place? You got partners . . . shareholders?’
    ‘No, it’s just me,’ Jenna said, irritated that she couldn’t bring herself to tell him to mind his own business. None of the other guests had gone beyond congratulating her and wishing her luck for the future, but Tony Allen seemed to be probing, and she wasn’t sure that she liked it.
    Gazing around thoughtfully, Tony said, ‘You know, anybody else messing with this much chrome would have had it looking like a slot machine, or something. But you’ve got it real classy. And I like the way you’ve got the kids dressed to match. That’s a nice touch.’
    Accepting the compliment with a modest smile, Jenna said, ‘You’ve quite an eye for detail, Mr Allen.’
    ‘Hey, come on  . . .’ Drawing his head back, he frowned at her. ‘I thought I told you to call me Tony? Only ass-lickers and dick-wipes have to call me Mister – like that fat fuck back there. No offence,’ he added quickly. ‘I know he’s your guest, an’ all, but there’s something not right about him. He gives me the creeps – know what I mean?’
    ‘Mmmm.’ Jenna struggled to keep from laughing out loud at the look of revulsion on his face. Leonard Drake had obviously made quite an impression, and she wondered if he and Tony had shaken hands.
    ‘Who is he, anyway?’
    ‘A politician,’ Jenna said, jumping when Tony slapped his hand down hard on the bar.
    ‘Ha! Shoulda known! That ’s why he’s so fucking creepy. Always on the make, those guys. Goddamn liars, too, promising shit they ain’t got no intention of delivering. And greedy – don’t even get me started. Ain’t one of ’em not on some one’s payroll!’
    ‘It’s the same for every political system the world over, isn’t it?’Jenna commented bemusedly. ‘Greed and deception are just part of the job description.’
    ‘Hey, whaddya know . . .’ Sitting back, Tony gazed at her with open admiration. ‘A