Maggie
Kings Cross, July 1986
Even in the dead of winter, people came to the Cross looking for something. For some it was comfort, to fulfil a yearning that could only be sated in the arms of a lady of the night. For some it was the thrill of sensation and satisfaction, the raw and somewhat sadistic pleasure that only the Golden Mile could provide. And for some, it was to forget. Forget their cares, their woes, or in some extreme circumstances to forget their entire lives, and in the wasteland hours between the darkest depths of night and when the sky began to lighten, their soul belonged to Kings Cross.
In the three months Maggie had been working at The Vinyl Room, she had seen many faces of the Golden Mile and it seemed that everyone had a story, a reason why they were drawn, or in some cases trapped, in the Bermuda-like triangle known as the Cross. She quickly came to see that unlike Warren, there were interesting people who worked at the club.
Ivan, the main doorman, had a stare that could bend steel. He was huge, Maggie put him at about six foot two and way over one hundred and thirty kilos, but if you asked nicely, he would crack your back. Perhaps the most noticeable thing about Ivan was his relationship with Destiny. There was something there—Maggie was sure of it.
Jerry was another of the door staff. Hailing from the south side of Chicago, he was strikingly tall with a silky moustache and shoulder-length, permed hair. Jerry had a voice that could narrate your life and a laugh that was as loud as thunder.
Gavin rounded out the door staff. He was younger than both Ivan and Jerry, but just as tall and muscly. Gavin would often announce closing time, which was three am most nights but seven am on Fridays and Saturdays. Maggie loved waiting to hear just which phrase Gavin would use on any given night. She and Mike would take bets. The main stayers were: ‘Time to make like a baby and head out’, ‘make like Marie Antoinette and head off’, and ‘make like a shepherd and get the flock outta here!’
The latter was Maggie’s favourite. Mike insisted that Gavin was gay, he apparently knew these sorts of things, but Maggie suspected it was because he was secretly jealous that Gavin was so handsome. Then Maggie accidentally walked in on Gavin and one of the waitresses, Nikki, doing the deed in the stockroom, so that blew Mike’s theory out of the water.
And then there was Mike. Originally from North Queensland, he’d come to the Cross on a rugby trip and never went home.
‘It’s Disneyland for adults,’ he said one night as they poured another round of top-shelf whiskey and Coke for the group of guys that had just arrived for a buck’s night. ‘Every wild ride you can think of, everything you want to indulge in is here.’
‘Do you think you’ll ever go home?’ Maggie asked.
‘Maybe one day,’ Mike said wistfully. ‘I come from a large family. My brothers and sisters all have kids. I want that, too.’
Perhaps she was being somewhat stereotypical, but given Mike’s lifestyle, it was the last thing she expected to come out of his mouth. Her surprise must’ve been evident because Mike laughed. ‘What, you think because I live in the Cross I want to stay here forever?’
‘No, it’s just that … I didn’t peg you as the type to want to have a family.’
‘If I meet the right person and they wanted the same, yeah for sure. But first, I need to get out before it destroys my soul. Just look at Destiny.’ He nodded to their boss, who was standing in the corner casting an eagle eye across the club. ‘Don’t you think she had dreams and hopes for a grander life than managing a club?’
Maggie had never thought of Destiny as having any desire outside the four walls of The Vinyl Room.
‘What are your dreams, Maggie?’ Mike asked.
Maggie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I mean, I’m here until Sharon saves enough for our trip.’ She didn’t add that Sharon should’ve had the funds needed by now. Maggie had managed to make more in three months bar tending than she had in the two previous years of casual retail work. By comparison, Sharon earned more, but every time Maggie questioned her about it, she made some excuse. How she’d given money to one of the girls she had borrowed from a while back, or how she’d spent it on new clothes.
Despite living in the same apartment and sharing a room, it seemed to Maggie that they were drifting further and further apart. Even though their work schedules were similar, they barely spent any time together. Maggie was a light sleeper and was generally the first one up, with Leanne and Sharon sleeping well into the afternoon. Maggie soon had taken to going out so as not to wake or bother them, and half the time Warren was asleep on the couch so she had no choice but to leave.
‘And after your trip, what will you do? Didn’t you say you had the marks to become a doctor?’
Maggie inhaled sharply. Talk about studying made her think about her mother. Without fail on a Sunday, Rosie would call. It was the same conversation every time. Rosie would ask when she was coming home. Maggie would tell her she wasn’t. It was always terse and Maggie honestly wondered why her mother bothered.
‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged.
‘Well, you’ve certainly got the smarts. I can tell that.’
‘What, because I can add and subtract in my head?’ Maggie chuckled, loading up a tray for one of the new girls, Tracey, a tall willowy blonde with probably the best breasts in the club. ‘I think the word you’re looking for is a “nerd”.’
Mike peered at her from behind his fringe that flopped over one eye. ‘You’re more than that, Maggie. Of all the girls here, you’re the one with the most potential.’
Maggie grimaced. ‘That’s something my mother would say.’
‘It’s true. You’re every bit as hot as the girls here, but you’ve got this,’ he tapped his temple, ‘and that makes you even hotter.’
Mike had previously told her she wasn’t his type so she knew there was no way he’d have any romantic inclinations towards her, but even so, Maggie felt her face flame. ‘Well, I’m no Tracey.’ She laughed off his compliment, unsure how else to respond.
‘Fuck Tracey,’ Mike cursed. ‘That bimbo would—’
‘Hey, honey.’ Mike’s words were cut short by Bobby’s arrival.
‘Bobby!’ She walked out from behind the bar and into his arms, allowing her lips to brush against his.
‘Missed you,’ he murmured against her mouth before framing her face and pulling her in for a deeper, more passionate kiss. He tasted of whiskey and cigars.
‘Missed you more,’ she sighed.
‘Really?’ His fingers crept under the hem of her skirt, his hand sliding upwards to cup her butt cheek as strains of the Samantha Fox song ‘Touch Me’ filled the air. ‘Remember what we were doing the other night as this song was playing?’
‘Bobby!’ She grabbed his hand, moving away from him. ‘Not here.’ Maggie remembered clearly.
His grin was full of immoral promise. ‘Later, then,’ he whispered in her ear before nipping at her lobe. Laughing and swatting Bobby away, Maggie headed back to the bar and immediately felt Mike’s disapproval.
‘What’s up your arse?’ she asked, almost expecting him to complain that one of the waitresses was giving him the shits.
‘Nothing,’ he mumbled, moving sharply past her and dumping a bucket of ice into the tub with excess force.
Maggie placed one hand on her hip. She knew Mike was giving her a bum steer. ‘Come off it, Mike. Tell me.’
‘Nothing,’ Mike repeated, shaking his head, and it only made her more annoyed.
‘Mike, you’re giving me the shits. Tell me.’ Maggie folded her arms and waited.
‘Fine,’ he huffed. ‘You know he’s only using you.’
Maggie blinked, confused. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘That lawyer you’re seeing.’ The tone of his voice took her aback.
‘Bobby?’
‘Yes—Bobby Ryan. You know his father is corrupt as fuck, don’t you?’
‘What has that got to do with Bobby?’
‘From what I’ve heard, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.’
‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ she asked angrily. ‘What has Bobby ever done to you?’
‘Look, just be careful, won’t you?’ Mike’s voice was softer now. ‘I don’t want to see you hurt.’
‘I’m capable of looking after myself,’ she said defensively.
‘The Ryans come from money, old money. I bet the old man has already had little Bobby’s life mapped out for him, including a suitable bride.’
The sting of his words hit her like a slap. ‘A minute ago you were telling me how much potential I had, and now all of a sudden I’m not good enough for Bobby Ryan?’
‘Maggie, as far as I’m concerned he’s not good enough for you. Nowhere near good enough.’
Maggie threw her hands up in exasperation. ‘I don’t get you, Mike. What are you trying to say?’
‘He’ll never marry you, Maggie. You’re just a bit of fun on the side until he has to get serious and head into politics like his old man.’
Rage bloomed. She couldn’t believe that he could be so callous. ‘Where do you get off telling me how to live my life? I mean, how would you like it if I told you what I thought of your playboy ways?’
‘At least I don’t let people treat me like a dirty dishrag. Because that’s all he sees you as, Maggie.’
Her hand reached out and struck him across the face before she could stop it. ‘Fuck you, Mike.’
Maggie stormed off, seeking first Destiny to let her know she had a migraine and needed to leave, and then Bobby to tell him to take her home.
They ended up going back to his apartment, where he opened a bottle of champagne, really expensive proper French champagne. Maggie recognised the label from the club.
Still smarting from her argument with Mike, she downed the first glass in record time and was already through her second when she flopped down on the soft, buttery leather couch and toed off her heels. Bobby placed a soft kiss on the inside of her bare calf, sending shivers scuttling over her leg. When the Samantha Fox song started blaring from his CD player she arched her back, suggestively wiggling her hips along with the lustful lyrics.
‘Dance for me,’ he said. Maggie obliged willingly, any inhibitions shed as the alcohol pumped through her as if laced with desire. Bobby watched her like a lion about to attack his prey, his desire growing as she removed her top, then very carefully her skirt, then with careful precision her lace bra and barely there undies. Maggie wasn’t a dancer, but she’d watched the girls as they did their thing, and knew what would turn him on.
Bobby lasted until the end of the song before he reached out and pulled her on top of him.
‘God, you’re so beautiful,’ he murmured, his thumb stroking her cheek.
She lowered her lips towards his, the words slipping out before she had a chance to stop them. ‘I love you, Bobby.’
* * *
Light pinpricked through the blinds. Bobby slept soundly next to her, his naked body curled snugly against hers. Normally, the sound of him sleeping, the feel of his skin against hers, was enough to make her want to stay like this forever, their entwined bodies fitting perfectly, but Mike’s words from the night before lingered.
It unnerved her that he had been right about some things. The night they first met, Bobby told Maggie his whole life had been planned, what he was to study at university, which law firm he was to work at before making a play for politics. It was the same path his father and grandfather had taken—a sort of family dynasty.
But Mike wasn’t right about everything. He couldn’t be. He didn’t know Bobby like she did. He didn’t know the depth of what they had. After she went to London with Sharon, she would come back and go to uni, maybe not to study medicine, maybe to do something else. She was going to make a life for herself. She would be worthy of Bobby’s love.
The feel of Bobby stirring broke her thoughts. He stretched before tightening his embrace and nuzzling at her neck. ‘Morning,’ he said groggily.
‘Morning,’ Maggie murmured, turning her body around to face him.
‘Mmm.’ He smiled against her lips, moving his hand down and hooking her leg over his hip. Maggie knew the drill. They would make love in bed, then again in the shower before Bobby got ready for work and she headed home. They had fallen into the routine so easily over the past three months, but it occurred to Maggie that most of their time together was spent at the club or here, in Bobby’s apartment.
‘Why don’t we ever go out?’ Maggie pulled out of his embrace. Her question seemed to stump him.
‘You’re asking me this now? Right before I’m about to … ah …’
‘Fuck me?’
A slow smile spread across his face. ‘I love it when you talk dirty.’ He tried to pick up where they’d left off, but Maggie pushed against his shoulder.
‘Bobby, I’m serious. All we do is meet at the club then we head back here and have sex before bed, sex when we wake up, sex in the shower.’
He seemed to take her seriously then. Brows furrowed, he propped up on one elbow. ‘Are you saying we’re having too much sex? ’Cause I have absolutely no problem with the amount of sex we have.’
Maggie sighed and rolled onto her back. ‘Sex isn’t the problem, it’s that …’
‘It’s what, Maggie? Is this about what you said last night? When you said you loved me?’
Maggie felt her face flame. She had said it in the heat of the moment. ‘I just feel … Bobby, is this, us I mean, is this only about the sex?’
‘Oh, Maggie May.’ Bobby cupped her cheek and tilted her face towards him. If she had any doubt about how he felt towards her, it all dissipated there and then. There was so much emotion in his eyes, those piercing blue eyes that made her green eyes look so ordinary. ‘You are more to me than that.’
‘Really?’ Her heart contracted with hope.
‘Really,’ he whispered, brushing his lips tenderly against hers. ‘The night I met you at Kardomah, I knew there was something special about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. When you didn’t call, I thought I would never see you again, and then when I walked into the club and you were there, it was like serendipity. You’re not the only one whose feelings have grown, Maggie.’
Maggie felt the hope turn to joy, and with every breath it spread through her. Pulling Bobby close, she kissed him passionately, only for him to pull away. ‘What do you say that tonight I take you to Caffe Roma? How does that sound? Maybe we need to, ah, spend some time outside the bedroom.’
Maggie smiled. ‘That sounds perfect, as long as we don’t spend too much time away from this bed. It’s so damn comfy I could stay here all day.’
‘I could too.’ Bobby kissed the side of her neck and cupped her breast, tracing lazy circles around her nipple with his thumb. ‘But I have to go to work and you need to get home.’
Maggie ignored the annoyance that sprung at the mention of the word home. He always insisted she leave either before or with him, never after he left, and never had there been any mention of them moving in together, or Bobby giving Maggie a key. Surely that was all about to change.
Yes, she needed to push away those seeds of doubt and focus on the positives. Bobby’s feelings for her were growing. Why couldn’t that be enough?
Because the thing was about seeds, with enough time, they sprouted and became weeds. Everyone knew that the only way to get rid of a pesky weed was to pull it out. But for now, Maggie had to hope that dousing her doubt was enough.
* * *
It was late afternoon when Maggie walked into the Piccolo Bar and took a seat at the only spare table there was.
‘Hey, Maggie! Ciao, come stai?’ Fabio called to her from behind the cappuccino machine. The Piccolo Bar on Rosyln Street was a meeting point in the Cross, and many would say a Kings Cross institution. The first time Maggie had walked into the tiny infamous café, she thought of her mother. Fabio served coffee the pure Italian way—just like Rosie did.
‘Molto bene grazie, e tu, Fabio?’
‘Ah, I cannot complain, bella. Do what you love and you never work a day in your life.’
Her coffee had only just been placed in front of her when Sharon walked in. They’d crossed paths briefly earlier that day when Maggie had returned home. Sharon had joked to Leanne that she probably should halve Maggie’s rent since she was spending more and more time at Bobby’s.
Leanne had smirked, commenting how that wasn’t going to happen. ‘She’ll need a place to stay when he dumps her.’
Maggie had stared at Leanne in disbelief. Jesus, had she been conspiring with Mike?
‘As if!’ Sharon scoffed. ‘Hey, we’re going to have a little party here tonight, you should ask Bobby to come along.’
‘Can’t. Bobby’s taking me to dinner at Caffe Roma.’
‘Ooh, fancy!’ Sharon said in a singsong voice. ‘Well, enjoy, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’ She laughed.
Her friend wasn’t laughing now. In fact, she seemed rather surprised to see her. ‘What are you doing here, Maggie? I thought you were going to dinner with Bobby.’
‘I am, we’re meeting here first.’
Sharon looked nervously at something behind her, but when Maggie turned to follow her line of sight, she realised it wasn’t something, but someone. A middle-aged man with a beard tapped impatiently at his watch.
‘Who’s that?’ she asked.
Sharon rocked anxiously as she glanced over at the man. ‘He’s just someone who’s getting me some gear for the party tonight.’
‘Gear?’ Maggie blinked. She didn’t like the conclusion her mind was leaping to. ‘What do you mean gear?’
‘Oh, don’t act so innocent. You know what gear means!’
Maggie was taken aback by Sharon’s tone. ‘Shaz, don’t you remember the last time you took drugs?’
‘Maggie, for someone so smart, you really can be dumb. You think that’s the last time I’ve taken something?’ Sharon gave an acerbic laugh.
‘Hey, honey.’ Bobby appeared, wrapping his hand around her waist and Maggie’s response was lodged in her throat. ‘Hi, Sharon, how’s it going?’
When neither of them said anything, Bobby’s gaze flickered between them. ‘Is everything alright?’ he asked carefully.
‘Everything’s fine,’ Maggie said curtly. ‘Sharon was just leaving to meet a friend.’ She grabbed Bobby by the hand and led him away. ‘Better not keep him waiting any longer,’ she tossed over her shoulder, not bothering to look back.
‘What the hell was that about?’ Bobby asked as they turned onto Ward Avenue.
‘Nothing,’ Maggie said, summoning a smile and leaning in for a kiss. ‘Sharon was just being a bitch, but I don’t want to think about her or anyone else. Tonight, it’s just about you and me.’
‘Sounds like a perfect plan.’
And that’s what she did. For the rest of the night, Maggie didn’t think about all the times she’d been there for Sharon. All the sacrifices she had made, even to the point where she’d estranged herself from her mother because of the promises she’d made to Sharon. The only reason she was working at The Vinyl Room was because of Sharon and their trip. Maggie foolishly had thought she was protecting Sharon. But it seemed she was the one being taken for a ride.
Maggie didn’t think of Sharon as she drank Chianti and enjoyed her antipasti, her spaghetti vongole or her tiramisu. And she certainly didn’t think of Sharon as Bobby peeled off her dress and made love to her.
It was only as she walked home the next day that she felt the first gnaw of regret, unaware of just how quickly it would implode.
Later, she would replay the moment over and over, and for years to come, she would wonder if she could’ve done something to stop it. And each time, she came to the same conclusion. The first domino had toppled. It was inevitable that the rest would follow, until they all had fallen down, leaving mess and destruction in their wake.