Friday Night

"These shoes are the best forty bucks I ever shelled out but they are fucking killing me." Iva flopped onto the cane divan and tugged her sparkly blue heels from her size elevens.

"Darl, watch those heels on the chaise." Carmene always referred to the divan as a rattan chaise lounge but she wasn't fooling anyone.

Carmene was counting out the tips. It had been a good night, considering. Iva was probably at an age when any decent self-respecting showgirl would be calling it quits but Iva Biggun could still draw a crowd. Carmene didn't know what she'd do when Iva hung up her pearl encrusted g-string for good.

"You got some dollars for me honeeeeeeeeeeeey." Ten ridiculously long floral fingernails brushed Carmene's shoulder.

"For God's sake Imelda pour yourself a Mai Tai and back off." Iva tried not to throw a shoe at her.

Imelda turned her attention to Iva, "What's wroooong? Someone jealous that Imelda is so populaaaar?"

"Settle down my little Peking Duck." Iva estimated Imelda had about five minutes before she copped a slap.

"But all the boys - they asking for me all the time."
"Well I did hear someone asking for Number 69 with lemon sauce if that's what you mean?"

"Seventy dollars each" Carmene interrupted

Imelda snatched the money, double-checked it and turned to leave.
"Well daaarlings I go now. I have plenty people waiting to see me." Imelda sashayed to the door where an Aussie battler in his seventies was waiting.

Iva couldn't resist, "Hey Imelda, great dress."
Imelda smoothed the polyester print, chuffed.
"Thaaaaaaaaankyou Iva."
Iva continued, "The next time I've got a spare $13.99 I might just grab one for myself."
Imelda sniffed, turned on her white leatherette six-inch stillettos and out the door.

"Where do you think they're off too?" Carmene ventured.
"Silvertop Taxis serve $3 hamburgers all night."
"Iva, you give her a hard time."
"Certainly a lot harder than grandpa will be giving her tonight."
Carmene tried not to laugh, "She's really not that bad."
Iva looked incredulous, "Who are you kidding? She's a five dollar rice queen who doesn't deserve to be here. People like me and Polly have worked for years on routines and costumes and in walks Miss Spring Roll with a denim mini-skirt and a bedazzler and the worst fucking pair of come-fuck-me boots I've seen since that horrible Shania film clip - and we're expected to share tips with her?"
"Well, not all of them." Carmene slipped Iva a fifty dollar note. "Champagne?" Carmene offered Iva a glass.
"Bubbles and bucks - you know what a girl likes." Iva relaxed back onto the divan.