Steve escorted an attractive young girl up the stairs, hoping to entice her to pay $15 to see the shows, but he was sadly disappointed when she looked me fair in the eye and said in the softest voice, ‘Are there any jobs available?’ Steve knew pursuing her for cover charge would prove fruitless, so with a roll of his eyes he retreated back downstairs.
I told her to take a seat and assured her that the boss would be back soon. Apart from managing the joint, which really I did, Spiro had no responsibilities, so it wasn’t unusual for him to spend hours away gambling across the road. She sat there quietly, obviously deep in thought. She didn’t cross her legs, her head was stooped, her eyes focused intently on her chewed and dirty fingernails. She was definitely carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
After an hour and a half Spiro still hadn’t returned, so I called around again. No one knew where he was, but I was firmly told not to let her out of my sight. The poor girl still sat there looking really upset and distressed and I kept expecting her to break out in tears at any moment. Why was she waiting so long? Then I realised—she didn’t have any other options; she was cold, homeless, penniless, tired and hungry. Steve kept asking her if she was OK and whether she wanted to eat something. She politely refused and went back to staring at her fingers. I also tried to talk to her, but it was a Saturday and I had little spare time.
I went to make myself a coffee and thought I’d offer her one as well, but she was gone. I expected she would be back in a few minutes, so I made her a tea with milk and sugar, but it never got touched.
Spiro finally returned, having received a message about a new girl. This always excited him. He would make jokes about having to ‘test drive all the new girls’. It wasn’t long before Joe also came to see the new meat. As the owner of all the clubs, he had the ultimate say on who worked where.
As well as the young girl leaving, the other doormen reported that they were a man short on the door and it quickly became apparent that Steve was missing. Upon severe questioning, one of the other doormen volunteered that he’d seen Steve leaving with a young girl. Spiro was hopping mad, and exclaimed, ‘That fucking malaka, he’s pulled this shit one too many fucking times.’ He and Joe wanted an explanation, and it was clear they held me largely responsible for not keeping my eye on her.
I think they had been taking coke, as they were all hyped up. Spiro was frantically pacing the floor, yelling at people for no good reason and ordering me around rudely, which he had never done in the past.
‘Did you see Steve go?’
‘No, sir, I had to leave the desk on occasion to get fresh soap and fold towels, but I didn’t see who she left with.’
‘Did Steve come in for his pay?’
‘No, sir, between, doormen, customers, strippers and the girls, some details skip my observation,’ I said defensively.
‘Goddamn malaka, I’ll cut his balls off!’
The room was rapidly filling with all the big men on the strip and their henchmen. Rumour had spread that rules had been broken and payback was on the cards.
They knew I didn’t speak Greek so anything they didn’t want me to hear was always spoken in their native tongue. I didn’t need to understand Greek to see what they were planning. Severe recriminations were about to go down, and I didn’t want to be around when it happened.
Finally Steve came bounding up the stairs.
‘Hey, Spiro, Nico, Joe, how are we tonight, gentlemen? Sorry I missed you coming in, my woman, she’s always busting my balls, you know how it is.’
Nobody said a thing, just shook their heads silently and exchanged disappointed looks.
‘Where did you take the girl who came for the job, Steve?’ spat Spiro.
Steve looked directly at me like I had been the one to betray him. ‘No way, gentlemen, when I left she was still here, that’s all right, simple misunderstanding, no hard feelings.’
‘Hey, koukla, go get some Greek coffee for us, the men need to talk, efharisto.’
Being completely naive I thought ‘go get coffee’ meant go get coffee. Why didn’t they just tell me to go lose myself for half an hour? That I would have understood. That way I could have avoided witnessing the most brutal bashing I could ever imagine.
Ten minutes later, loaded up with a tray of Greek coffees, I returned. Joe was hammering into Steve with his walking stick, while the other men kicked into him repeatedly, or restrained him when he tried to escape. Joe tired, but the younger and fitter ones of the group were still enjoying themselves too much to stop and show some mercy to the now barely moving Steve. Steve crawled down the stairs on one hand and an elbow, dragging his legs behind him. His face was covered in blood. The top of his head was matted with blood and I couldn’t even make out what colour his shirt and pants were.