The Secrets Of Life (The Working Girls Book 1) Read online

  The Secrets of Life

  Book 1 of the Working Girls Series

  By

  K.L. Humphreys

  Other books by this Author:

  Deadly Series:

  Deadly Hunt

  Deadly Obsession

  Deadly Past

  The Secrets Of Life

  First Edition published in 2017

  Text Copyright © K L Humphreys

  All rights reserved.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  Editing by Maria Lazarou Obsessed by Books Designs

  Cover Design by Lee Ching of Undercover Designs

  Formatter: Maria Lazarou Obsessed by Books Designs

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without the prior written permission of the author. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN-13:

  978-1979663625

  ISBN-10:

  19796636

  “The course of true love never did run smooth.”

  - William Shakespeare.

  Chapter One

  “Emme, come give me a kiss, I’m leaving,” I shout as I walk down the hallway.

  I open the door to Anthony’s room and poke my head in. It’s dark, and I can barely make out his tiny weak body lying on his bed. I quietly walk into the room. My youngest brother Anthony, or Tony as we call him, has had terrible migraines for years. Sometimes they come maybe three times a week, sometimes once a month. Other times, he gets lucky and only gets one every three months, or so. When he does get one, it comes hard and fast, and he gets nauseous. I let him throw up, then I give him his medicine. I walk over to the bed and see he’s asleep; it’s the best thing for him. Hopefully, by the time he wakes up, he’ll be better and the migraine will be gone. I hate that there is absolutely nothing else I can do to help him. I feel helpless. Seeing someone you love hurting and in so much pain, but not being able to make it go away is so tough. The worst thing is he’s only twelve and so use to them already, that’s not how it should be.

  I’m about to go to work. I work as a pole dancer in central London. It’s a shitty job, but it pays the bills. We live in a three bedroom flat in Camden Town. It’s not exactly the best place to live with two teenage boys, a four-year-old girl and me. It’s a council flat, you’d think I’d be rolling in money working as a pole dancer, but I’m barely staying afloat. I’m the only one paying the bills. My mother’s name is on the tenancy agreement; she comes and goes as she pleases. She uses the flat as a B&B. She’s the biggest alcoholic known to man. She denies it, but most of the time she drinks until she passes out. She has a serious problem, and there is nothing I can do to make her realise it. I can’t kick her out of our lives, even though I want to. She is the boy’s guardian, and I hate to think what would happen if I weren’t here for them. I can’t remember the last time she did anything for them.

  Just as I make it to the door, I hear tiny feet running down the hall. Emme’s on her way. My eyes are drawn to the room at the end, and I watch as Simon comes out of his room. “You okay, little man?” He hates that nickname, but I’ve always called him that, and I don’t think it will ever change.

  “Yeah Jess, I’m okay. Just got a lot of homework. It’s okay, though. I’ll bring it into the sitting room and put the telly on, so Emme can watch it while I get my homework done,” he tells me with a smile, I wonder how I got so lucky? When did my fifteen-year-old brother grow up?

  “Don’t look like that Jess; I’m doing what I have to, just like you do. You go to work at a shitty job, and I look after Tony and Emme. It’s what we do to survive, Jess. You taught me that.” I raise my eyebrow at the use of the word shitty. He just shrugs his shoulders knowing I can’t tell him off when I say it myself. “Look, if I didn’t do this, we’d be in care and you know it. Mum can’t look after us; she can barely look after herself.”

  He’s right. When I was fifteen, pregnant and all alone, he asked me what we were going to do. I told him we’d do whatever it takes to survive. And that is exactly what we have done. “You’re growing up on me Si, when did that happen?” He smiles, I walk over and hug him. I’m so grateful that at least one of my brothers has their head screwed on right. Si hugs me back. He may be fifteen, but he always lets me hug him without any complaints.

  “Mummy. You got to go?” My four-year-old daughter Emme whines, with a pout. She breaks my heart when she does this, and I feel like the worst mother in the world. I hate that I have to leave her, but I have no choice; I have to work. There is no one else to pay the bills.

  “Yeah baby, I’ve got to go. Come give me a kiss.” She has big, fat tears falling down her face, and I look to Si, who just rolls his eyes; this happens every night I go to work. “Okay, be a good girl for Uncle Si and don’t annoy Uncle Tony. He’s not feeling well okay?” I hate leaving them all, but as Si says, I have to go to work. I have a shitty job that I absolutely despise, but I’m good at it, it keeps this roof over our heads and food in our stomachs.

  My sassy little princess rolls her eyes at me, tears still flowing before replying, “Okay Mummy. I’ll leave Tony alone, and I’ll be a good girl for Si Si. Is Nanny coming home?” She asks, and I hate that she’s even around my mother.

  “I don’t know, Emme. You know your Nan; she likes to surprise everyone.” I’m not lying, my Mum doesn’t let us know when she’ll turn up, she just does. “Okay, I have to go. I’ll kiss you once I’m home, okay?” Emme nods and runs back to do whatever it is she was doing beforehand, probably using my nail varnish for her Barbie dolls. I turn to Si, “I’ll be home about two-ish. Please, be asleep. I hate that you stay awake waiting for me to come home. Please just sleep; if you want I will wake you once I’m home?” I beg him. I only found out last week that he stays awake until I come home. I might not get home until half two in the morning, and he has to be up again at half six for school. I can’t have him doing that. It’s not healthy.

  I watch as he contemplates my begging offer and I sigh in relief when he starts nodding his head. “Yeah, wake me. Jess, before you go, what are we going to do about Owen? He’ll be getting released on Friday. He probably expects to live here. We barely have enough to feed us. Especially when Mum takes your tips.” I hear the sadness in his voice, and I hate it. I hate that he knows what a bad mother she is. My tips are what I save for the kids, in case they need new clothes, new shoes or even birthday presents. My mum ransacks the house looking for money. Since I found that out, I started putting them into the bank the very next day. The only problem is when I work weekends. I try hiding them, but she’s found them the last two times.

  “We’ve talked about this before, Si. Leave that to me, okay? Owen is our older brother and if I have to work a second job so he can be home with us, then so be it. I’m happy he’s being released. I’ve missed him.” I mean that with all my heart. I love my family and to have them all together again will be so great. I see relief and disappointment on his face, and I feel the exact same. There isn’t much I can do. I’m disappointed that I may have to work two jobs. “Maybe Owen can get a paying job when he’s released,” I say, and watch as Si rolls his eyes. Yeah, that is what I think too, but I try and stay positive. We d
on’t need all the negativity making our shitty situation worse.

  “Yeah, because everyone wants an ex-gang convict as their employee,” Si says sarcastically. I don’t think he realises how much he’s like Owen. He’s the spitting image of our older brother.

  “Si, don’t be that way. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I have never let you starve or let anything happen to any of you and I’m not going to start now! I have to go, but this conversation isn’t over, okay?” He nods and I hug him once more.

  Owen was sent to prison five years ago for supplying a class A drug when he was nineteen. The stupid twat was caught with it on him. Anyway, the judge went easy on him and only gave him seven years where as he could have got fourteen. He’s been granted parole and will be out soon. I hope prison knocked some sense into him. He hasn’t allowed any of us to see him, he hasn’t spoken to us the entire time he’s been away. That really hurt. Owen was someone I trusted. He knew what our family was like. He was the one who protected us from seeing what our mum was really like. He bore the brunt of it and kept it hidden from all of us. He sent us a letter saying he was up for parole. That was it. He doesn’t know about Emme. He doesn’t know anything about us anymore. He would go crazy if he knew I was working as a pole dancer at Pleasure Palace.

  It sounds seedy and pervy, but it isn’t. The managers actually look after the girls there now. I had no qualifications and this was the only job I could get at the tender age of sixteen. The previous owner wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box. Owen taught me a few things before being sent down. He taught me how to make a fake birth certificate and other forms of ID, things I didn’t want to learn. I was so innocent back then, I never thought I’d need to know. I was ashamed that he knew how to do things like that., but now, I’m so grateful he taught me. I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have this job. Mike Linas, the previous owner, took one look at my tits and hired me on the spot. He said ‘the guys will love your perky tits and tight arse. You look like fresh meat; they will be eating out of the palm of your hand.’ He was right; they were, especially when I was dressed up as a school girl. I hated doing that. It felt wrong on so many levels, but this job pays more than any other job I could get without any qualifications. It’s what keeps my brothers and my daughter fed, clothed, and a roof over their heads. I hate it, but it needs to be done.

  Owen was sent to prison when I was three months pregnant. He didn’t know as I kept it hidden, as I was in denial. I couldn’t believe it. I was barely sixteen and already pregnant. I couldn’t tell Owen; he would have gone mental. I couldn’t stand to see the disappointment in his eyes or hear it in his voice, he was basically the only parent I had. I may think him dealing was wrong and stupid, but knowing the reasons he did it in the first place makes me thankful he did what he had to do. He became a dealer so he could keep us fed and safe. Our mum is useless. I don’t know when or why she became that way, but I do know she took advantage of the fact that Owen was there to be our support and our guardian.

  I know now that what Owen did was something he didn’t have to. It was selfless and I’m lucky he was there. He kept the boys and me on the straight and narrow, made sure we stayed in school and did our homework. When he went away, I thought it would be easy to take over and make sure the kids were okay. It was so hard. I was so sick with the pregnancy. I couldn't eat, drink, or move without throwing up. The doctor called it Hyperemesis gravidarum. It started at week six and got worse as the weeks went by. There was nothing I could do to help ease the sickness. I was told to try dry crackers, ginger nuts; you name it, I tried it, but nothing worked. I was dehydrated, miserable and scared. The doctor gave me Cyclizine, which I had to take three times a day, but it helped. I was finally able to function.

  Chapter Two

  I leave the flat and walk down the six flights of stairs. I hate this estate; it is full of wannabe gang members and drugs. If they aren’t using them, they’re selling them. It’s not the best place to bring up kids, but it’s the only place we’ve got. I make my way to the tube, hoping that as it’s a Wednesday night, not many people will be on it. I get on at Camden Town, which is only a ten-minute walk from our estate and get off at Leicester Square.

  The tube arrives in less than ten minutes. There was a crowd gathered along the platform but I managed to get my desired seat. It was by the end of the carriage, perfect, away from most passengers who hug seats by the door and those who wish to stand in the keep clear area. The last thing I want is some weirdo chatting me up. If this was a Friday or Saturday night, I wouldn't be so lucky to even get a seat, let alone this one and be left alone.

  I get off the tube and make my way onto the street. The frigid air hits me as soon as I do and I love it. It makes me feel alive and grateful. I love walking around Leicester Square. It’s somewhere Owen used to bring us, he’d tell us when there was a movie premiere on to ‘look closely, you may see someone famous.’ I never did, but it was always fun to look. He would always say, ‘One day, we will be here to see you.’ We never knew which one of us he was speaking to. Still, it was nice we each got to dream that he was talking to us and to imagine what it would be like to be a famous movie star. I always imagined I would live in Hollywood, be so rich that I could buy all my brothers their own houses and we’d all be happy. It was nice to have that dream and I really hope Tony and Emme will be able to dream like that.

  I walk up to The Pleasure Palace and smile at Tommy, who’s working the door. He’s dating one of the waitresses, Candice. Her stage name is Candy, which I am aware is cheesy and typical, but it works for her. Tommy forbids Candy from dancing. He gave her a choice, either him or dancing and made it clear she couldn’t have both. She chose him, so Damien made sure she could still work here. He put her on as a waitress. Damien always makes sure that we are all okay. It doesn’t hurt that he is easy on the eyes. I swear to God those Calvin Klein models have nothing on Damien. He’s thirty-five and a perfect gentleman. If I weren’t so hung up on my ex, and Damien wasn’t in love with Saffron (yes, that is her real name.) I might have tried my luck.

  Who am I kidding? Not only is he too old for me, and I don’t roll that way, but I still love Hunter.

  Saffron is also a pole dancer. She’s quiet and keeps to herself. She’s beautiful but doesn’t know it and she tries to get on with everyone, but in a strip club that doesn’t happen. There are always bitches who believe they are better than others. Someone needs to tell them that they're nothing but washed up has-beens and nobody wants to see their saggy tits on stage.

  That sounds harsh and makes me sound bitchy, I know, but they’re bullies and one thing I hate is bullies. I was always told to stand up for myself and when possible, stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves.

  Saffron doesn’t even know Damien is into her, and he hasn’t made a play for her yet. I hope he doesn’t let her get away; she’s very vulnerable and skittish. I’m extremely protective of her. Something in her eyes just pulls at all my motherly instincts. I want to wrap her in cotton wool and make sure no one hurts her.

  “Hey Bubbles, how are the kids?” Yep, my stage name is Bubbles. When I first started, I was nervous and had bubble-gum that I kept chewing and blowing bubbles with. The name stuck. Tommy thinks I have three siblings, as I’m always with them. Whenever I’m not working and the kids aren’t at school, I like to make sure they are out of the flat and doing something. I hate keeping them cooped up in a tiny flat. If I get stir crazy spending days in the flat, I can only imagine how the kids would feel. Emme keeps them all energized. My daughter has my brown hair, but she looks like her father, right down to her attitude. I like Tommy, but he really doesn’t need to know my life story. Tony, Si, Owen and I all look alike. We’ve all got the same brown hair and salou skin that Emme does. So, I understand how he could think Emme was my sister. Most people don’t think of girls having kids when they’re kids themselves.

  “The kids are fine, thanks, Tom. How’s Candy? Is she wo
rking tonight?” I ask, as I step into the entrance of The Pleasure Palace. This is a members only club so having someone at the door of the entrance way stops the kids trying to sneak in.

  “Not tonight, but she’ll be back tomorrow. Layla, however, is.” Great, just what we need. Luscious Layla, or so she thinks. She is an evil cow, who thinks she is better than all of us and that her shit doesn’t stink. Mutton dressed as lamb is what comes to mind when I think of her. She’s thirty-eight and thinks she’s still got it. Damien, however, doesn’t think she’s good enough for the pole so he made her a waitress. She still bosses the girls around like she did when Mike owned the place. Mike let her oversee the girls, and she apparently didn’t get the memo that she is no longer in charge. If Damien ever found out how she treats Saffron, she’d be out on her arse. She hates Saffron because Saffron has Damien’s attention and she can’t get him to see her that way. She gets my blood boiling when she starts her cattiness with Saffron. It’s all jealousy.

  The reception area of the club looks classy. For a strip club, anyway. Frosted glass doors that lead you to where it all happens. A bar is situated in full on the far side room. In the middle of the room you have booths with mini stages featured with their own poles. On the opposite end of the feature length bar you have the main stage - this is where we dance most of the time.

  At the other end of the bar you have a booth we use for stag do’s and private parties. Those poles are better for tips. The booth was designed to create the illusion of being exclusive, being a VIP. It benefits us greatly. The bigger the group, the bigger the tips.

  There is also a back room for private dances. I haven’t done any in a long time. I avoid them since the last one I did. It was just before Damien took over. As a matter of fact, it’s why Damien took over. Damien was in the back room. It’s big enough for six different dancers and clients to be back there at the same time, but still provides plenty of privacy. I was seventeen and this client was really handsy, running his hands up and down my arse, squeezing my breasts and grinding into me. It made me feel dirty. This client was in his fifties and wouldn’t listen to me when I told him no touching allowed. He got extremely aggressive and started pulling at my clothes, trying to get them off. I was terrified. Damien somehow heard all the shouting and pulled him off me. Mike, the previous owner, had the cheek to have a go at me over it. He told me that I should have done what the client wanted, because the client was a friend of his and spent a lot of money at the club. Damien went mental when he heard this. He asked me to wait outside while he spoke to Mike. I honestly don’t know what was said, but I do know it worked and the next thing we knew, Mike was gone and Damien was the new owner.