Thursday nights at Chix were becoming as popular as Fridays, Nikki thought as she looked over the main floor from the second level. She wondered if they should start thinking about closing later that night as well.

There was no question that the club was doing fine, and she knew much of it was due to Trisha. It was Trisha who'd had the idea to bring the pub atmosphere into the nightclub setting, setting up two levels within the building, as well as scheduling specific events for each night. On Monday, they pulled out the big screen so the patrons could watch a new television show that was surprisingly liberal in its depiction of lesbian relationships, making the evening a long and rather raucous fan club meeting. Nikki didn’t know what they’d do if the show was canceled, but hopefully, there’d be another one to come along, and during reruns, Chix offered viewings of lesbian films like Desert Hearts and Bound. Tuesday, it was dart and pool tournaments, with the telly tuned into Sky Sports for the competitive minded. On Wednesdays, drinks were offered two for one, making it a favorite night for the professional women to drop in, not to mention those who liked a cheap drunk.

Thursday had become Retro Night, with lots of sixties, seventies, and eighties music and an atmosphere that appealed to an older crowd of lesbians in their late thirties, forties and fifties. Nikki enjoyed talking to these women, though some of them occasionally regaled her with stories about being gay in those early decades that made her glad she was a member of a slightly younger generation.

Down on the main level, the dance floor was packed, as was the long bar. There also seemed to be a large contingent in the games room in the back where the three pool tables and several dartboards were located. The upper level ran the circumference of the club and looked down onto the dance floor. It boasted several tables and was constructed to keep most of the sound below, allowing the patrons to talk comfortably above the music. Snacks in bags, crisps, pretzels, and popcorn in fifteen different flavors could be purchased at the small bar, which limited itself to lager and alcopops. The DJ booth was up here, suspended over the dance floor, and through the clear windows, Nikki could see Liza bopping along to the beat of the Bee Gees and ‘More Than A Woman’. With spiky blonde hair and tattoos adorning her arms, the young DJ reminded Nikki a great deal of a fellow inmate named Shaz Wylie, but to her knowledge, Liza had yet to try to poison the customers with bad oysters.

All the bar staff were on duty tonight. Carol and Melissa tended the chaotic main floor while the less experienced Dana and Alice took care of the more laidback drinkers upstairs. Lydia, the large, squarely built bouncer with snowy hair that sometimes put Nikki in mind of a polar bear, circulated casually, alert for any trouble that she would handle with a delicacy and diplomacy that belied her massive form, keeping in contact with her assistants, Emily and Rhonda, via small ear mikes. Behind the bar, Nikki could see Trisha helping out and wondered if she should go down there. Even as the thought crossed her mind, Trisha looked up, spotted her leaning over the rail and waved, indicating that she was coming up to join her.

Nikki watched as Trisha slipped from behind the bar and navigated through the crowd, pausing every so often to greet someone new or have a word with an old friend. She was really in her element here, and it was hard to reconcile the cool businesswoman with that shy and sweet young girl who first managed to tame the wild woman, Nikki Wade. Trisha had put on a few pounds over the years, but she wore it well, providing pleasing curves to her firm body. Her blonde hair curled slightly around her collar and her steady blue eyes looked out on the world with an easy charm.

They’d had seven years together, then two more with Nikki in prison until the harsh reality of being separated finally shattered the bonds of their relationship when a lonely Trisha had turned to someone else. Sometimes Nikki wondered what would have happened if there hadn’t been someone else, or if Trisha had begged for another chance in that fateful visit to the prison. Would Nikki have resisted the charms of a certain wing governor who showed her such kindness and attention in the harshest of worlds? Or would she and Trisha have eventually broken up anyway, leaving her to fall for Helen as a matter of destiny? She guessed she’d never know.

She did know how fortunate she was that their friendship remained solid and they were able to continue to work together. She lifted her chin in greeting when Trisha finally reached her.

“Hiya, Nikki. Good crowd, tonight.”

“Not bad at all.” Nikki shot a look at her. “You’ve done a really fine job here, babes.”

Trisha smiled, pleased by the compliment. “This whole thing was your idea. Remember that first year? We both lived upstairs in that hole in the wall, expecting the bank to foreclose on us at any moment, leaving us without even a roof over our heads.”

Nikki shook her head, smiling at the memory. She and Trisha had met in a little lesbian club that had long since passed into history, where Nikki worked the bar and Trisha worked her way through the local FE college in pursuit of a business degree. After becoming a couple, an inheritance from Trisha’s great aunt financed their purchase of this building and the start up costs of Diva, as Chix had originally been called before a police officer’s unfortunate demise at Nikki’s hands. Over time, Nikki had paid Trisha back her half of the investment out of her share of the proceeds, but it had been somewhat dicey in those early years when it looked like they would not only lose their shirts, but everything else they owned as well.

Trisha leaned against the rail and glanced over at her, her expression gently quizzical. “You’re looking down, ‘Nik. Still a bit much for you?”

“It’s not that. It’s just…I haven’t seen Helen since Monday morning. I talk to her on the phone every evening but it’s not the same.”

Trisha nodded sagely. “It’s not easy when work isn’t compatible. Thinking of getting a day job?”

“The trouble is that I really like working the club, Trish. I always have. I enjoy meeting people, talking with them, and having this social atmosphere around me all the time. I can’t imagine myself in some office somewhere stuck behind a desk pushing papers. It would bore me stupid.”

“So do something like running the club, but with daytime hours.”

“Such as?”

“Well, I heard a rumor that the cafe down the street is about to go on the market. Apparently, he’s gone bankrupt and is finally closing down.”

“The dump on the corner?” Nikki lifted her brows. “Helen’ll be devastated. She loves the place.”

Trisha nudged her with her elbow, a familiar gesture. “Try to stick to the subject, ‘Nik.”

“And that is?”

“That place has been a dive since we moved down here. The rest of the district improved, but not that place. It looks exactly the same now as it did then.”

“So?”

“So, it’s still around, and from what I hear, it’s his fondness for staying late at the casino that’s draining the profit, not any lack of business. What does that tell you?”

“That despite a complete lack of investment from the owner, it still has some kind of draw.” Nikki thought about it. “It sure as hell can’t be the décor or the food. Has to be the location. There are clubs all over, but the business suits in the area really don't have any other place to eat at lunchtime.”

“Exactly. So why not take a look at buying it?”

“You mean, sell out my share of Chix and start a restaurant?” Nikki felt a pang at the thought. There was a security in the nightclub that was more important to her than she realized until this moment, and it wasn’t entirely monetary.

“No, think of it as us expanding Chix,” Trisha said with her infectious brand of enthusiasm. “We’ll do it together, but while I’ll continue to run the club, you can manage L’il Chix. We can turn that place into a cute little bistro, a place for the gays to have breakfast after a night of clubbing, and the suits in the area to get a half decent lunch. Close at three and you’ll be home in time to get Helen’s dinner.”

The last was said a bit sarcastically but Nikki chose to overlook it. It was a very appealing idea, and not just for the hours that Trisha suggested. But it was also a risk, requiring a lot of capital and investment from the two women in an uncertain economy.

“Do you really think it’ll work?”

“It’s a better idea than you becoming more and more miserable until you finally ask me to buy you out.” Trisha put her hand on Nikki’s forearm. “As well as we’re doing, I really can’t afford to buy you out at a fair price, and honestly, I don’t want to bring in some stranger to take over your half of the business. We built this place together. It’s like our child, and you should always be a part of it.”

Nikki decided that wasn’t a simile she was ever going to share with Helen. Somehow, she didn’t think she would understand … or worse, she’d understand perfectly and have even more reason to be wary of Trisha.

“Are you sure the café’s going on the market?”

“It might only be a rumor, but even if it is, that doesn’t have to stop us from making a reasonable offer for the place.” Trisha tilted her head. “What do you say?”

“Let’s go for it. The worst that’ll happen is that he’ll say no.”

Trisha made a face. “No, the worst that'll happen is that he’ll say yes and we’ll put in a shitload of work and money only to see it all go down the bog in the first year.”

Nikki laughed. “Aren’t you trying to talk me into this?”

“Got to know the risks as well as the rewards,” Trisha told her, smiling as she glanced back over the crowd below. Suddenly, she stiffened.

Frowning, Nikki tried to follow her gaze and couldn’t see anything that might have caught her attention. “What?”

“Isn’t that Claire? Over there at the bar?”

Nikki almost asked ‘Claire who?’ before she spotted her former solicitor in the crowd below. She lifted her brows, unused to seeing Helen’s friend in such informal clothing, or outside legal surroundings. It was obvious she wasn’t here to see her former client since she had ordered a drink, a large one from the look of it, and was carrying it up the curved stairs leading to the second level. She didn’t appear to notice Trisha and Nikki standing at the railing. Instead, she went over to the wall where sofas and chairs had been arranged to provide conversation pits and found a quiet corner where she took a seat and a healthy swallow of her drink.

“I wonder where Heather is?”

This one Nikki could rightfully sound ignorant about. “Who’s Heather?”

“Her partner, she’s in advertising. They’ve been together for more than fifteen years, ever since university.”

Nikki glanced at Trisha, more than a little disconcerted when she saw her still staring at Claire with an oddly intent expression. “How do you know all that?”

Trisha tore her eyes away with an effort. “Claire and I got to know each other quite well while we were working on your appeal, ‘Nik. She showed me how to come up with the petitions, how to drum up support from the community, how to work the publicity in the right places.” She looked back at Claire. “Does she look upset to you?”

Mystified, Nikki took another look. “Well, she looks like she’s been crying and she just ordered another round from Rhonda, so I think the answer’s yes.”

“I’d better go talk to her.” There was real concern in Trisha’s voice.

“Good idea. Looking at a face like that is bound to put people off their drinks.”

Trisha shot her an unexpectedly vicious look that set Nikki back on her heels and made a beeline for the corner where Claire was rapidly downing her second drink. Bemused, Nikki watched as Trisha sat down near Claire and began to talk with her intently. Occasionally, Trisha would touch Claire's arm or her leg in gestures that seemed more caring than Nikki would have expected. She guessed they must have become fairly close friends over the past year and wondered if Helen knew that.

Better yet, she wondered if this mysterious Heather knew it. She’d suspected Claire was gay from the first moment she met her, but she’d never really confirmed it. Once she’d determined that Helen had never been interested in her, it just never came up as a topic of interest for her again. She frowned as she watched the two women, one obviously in need of comfort and other apparently more than glad to provide it.

She needed to talk to Helen about this, but she wasn’t going to do it over the phone. This was definitely more an intimate, late night pillow talk sort of discussion.

Helen glanced at Nikki across the breakfast table…though for her, it was the dinner table after arriving at the flat at three in the morning. She’d greeted a sleepy but very pleased Helen at six o’clock with a fully prepared meal of spinach quiche and fresh strawberries for dessert, listening attentively as she chatted verbosely about her week at work. Now, as they lingered over coffee and the morning newspaper, Helen debated whether now was the time to tell her. She knew she’d have to eventually, and this was the first opportunity she’d had to do it in person. It wasn’t the sort of thing she cared to discuss over the phone.

“Nikki?” Dark brown eyes focused on her above the newspaper. Helen was going to smile; decided it would look patently false and exhaled slowly instead. “You'll never guess who’s working with me at the Policies Unit.”

“You're right, I wouldn't.”

“Dominic McAllister. Apparently, it didn't work out between him and the girl he met in Greece.”

Nikki contemplated her for a long moment. Helen wondered what she was thinking. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope, he’s the other Programs Coordinator.” She hesitated but decided that it was best to get it all out at once. “We’ll be working pretty closely together.”

There was another long silence as Nikki absorbed this. Then, to Helen's complete astonishment, Nikki shrugged and went back to her paper. “It'll be nice for you to have someone there that you've worked with before. Maybe we should invite him over to dinner some night.”

Helen stared at her, absolutely dumbfounded. “Who are you and what the hell have you done with Nikki Wade?”

“Hey, you're the one who told me to stop assuming the worst about everything. At least, give me some credit for trying.”

Abashed, Helen dipped her head. “I do,” she said in a gentler tone. “I'm sorry for thinking you'd fly off the handle. I suppose I’m the one who’s guilty of jumping to conclusions now.”

Nikki made a bit of a face as she flipped the page. “Well, it's not as if you don't have reason. I've always had a temper, Helen. It just became a bit more controlled in prison.”

“You mean it was worse before?” Helen blinked, appalled.

Nikki chuckled, though it seemed somewhat devoid of humor. “Not quite. I was always quick to shoot off my mouth, but then it'd be over. Now, I let it build up until it gets away from me. Not sure if it's worse so much as different.” She paused, suddenly pensive. “You know, Helen, my existence is now defined as before Larkhall, during Larkhall, and after Larkhall. It's like I lived three completely different lives.”

“I think that's probably to be expected. If it's any consolation, my life is now defined as 'before meeting Nikki' and 'after meeting Nikki'.”

Nikki laughed again, and this time it was honest humor. “You mean, when you were hetero and now that you’re homo?”

“I wouldn't have put it like that.”

Nikki just shot her a look that spoke volumes, warm and affectionate, and Helen was reminded yet again why she loved her so much. She slipped out of her seat and went around the table. Hastily folding up the paper, Nikki put it down just in time to pull Helen onto her lap, hugging her tightly as she responded happily to her kiss.

“I love you, Nikki,” Helen whispered.

“I love you, too,” Nikki assured her. “I'm sorry I give you such a hard time that you worry about telling me things.”

“I think I give as good as I get. That's probably why we were meant for each other.”

Nikki cupped her cheek and looked at her soberly. “Are we meant for each other, Helen?”

“Of course we are.” Helen nuzzled her gently. “Sweetheart, when I tell you that I've never felt this way for anyone before, I'm not trying to be romantic; it's just the plain, simple truth. You're everything that I've ever wanted or needed, and didn't even know it until you came into my life.”

Nikki tilted her head back and eyed her from beneath lowered lashes. “So you’re saying there’s no reason for me to ever feel jealous.”

“Absolutely no reason at all.” Helen kissed her nose. “I told Dominic that we’re together now. He was very pleased to hear about your appeal.”

Nikki didn’t look entirely convinced about the last part, but she smiled and squeezed Helen gently. “Well, the little ‘git was the best of a bad lot. I suppose I can live with the two of you working together now. You know he’s seen me naked.”

Helen blinked, blindsided by the casual comment. “What?”

“Remember that brilliant idea you had? The one where you were going to single handedly win the war on drugs, except the only one who actually had to squat over a mirror was me?”

Helen winced. “I remember.” It had not been one of her better moments during the early days at Larkhall.

“I was standing there in my cell with the DST, completely naked, the door wide open, when along comes McAllister. He glances over and immediately stops dead to take another, much longer look at what I had to offer.” Nikki paused, her mouth twisted slightly and it wasn’t entirely in amusement. “Not much wonder he backed off when he knew you were interested in me. He couldn’t possibly hope to compete.”

“Oh, Nikki.” The words had been deliberately light, but Helen could hear the edge of humiliation that threaded through them, barely perceptible and only to someone who was so in tune with every small inflection the woman utilized. “I’m so sorry.”

Nikki shook her head slightly, obviously trying to shrug it off. “Hey, just another fun story to tell at your first Christmas party. But the next time he tries to flirt with you, you might want to remember what the pair of you have in common.”

Helen couldn’t think of anything to say. All she could do was tighten her hold about Nikki’s neck and pull her close in a comforting hug. Initially stiff, Nikki abruptly relaxed, dropping her head onto Helen’s shoulder.

“You know, the worst part about my job in Larkhall was the inequality of everything,” Helen said after a while where she just held Nikki as lovingly as she could. “If an inmate made a mistake, the inmate suffered. If a prison official made a mistake … the inmate suffered. It wasn’t fair.”

“Preaching to the choir here,” Nikki told her quietly.

“I know, but that’s why I need you to be here for me. You have to remind me just what’s at stake when I become too impatient or too lost in the process to see the consequences. I want to be able to tell you everything about what I do, and I want you to be the first to tell me when it’s good or it’s shit or it’s completely mad.”

Nikki was silent for a moment. “I’m not going to be here on a regular basis, Helen, except maybe for Sundays.”

“Then I’ll just have to save it up for Sundays then,” Helen said, with a lightness she didn’t feel.

“Yeah.” Nikki didn’t look satisfied.

“I have to get ready for work.”

“Sure.”

Helen put her knuckle under Nikki’s chin and drew up her face until the brown eyes met hers squarely. “We’ll figure this out, sweetheart.”

Nikki continued to frown for a few seconds more before her expression relaxed. “I know we will.”

“Thank you for breakfast. It was absolutely lovely.”

Nikki kissed her. “You’re welcome. Now go. You don’t want to gain a reputation for chronic lateness your very first week.”

“Right. Have to have at least a month go by before I start up with that.”

Gratified when that generated a smile, small but genuine, Helen kissed Nikki again and reluctantly slipped from her embrace. In the bathroom, she showered quickly and put on the clothes she had chosen the night before. As she applied her makeup, Nikki stuck her head in the bathroom door.

“I’m going to sack out in your bed for a while. Is that okay?”

Helen met her gaze in the reflection of the mirror. “Of course, it is. You don’t have to ask.” She lifted her chin as she touched up her foundation. “When will I see you again?”

“You know how crazy Friday nights are. We’re packed to the rafters with baby dykes on the pull. I’ll probably be knackered by the end of it.”

Helen nodded. “I don’t want you to drive while you’re tired.” She thought about it as she stroked her lashes with mascara. “I’ve got loads to do tomorrow morning and that’s before I get to grips with the contents of my washing basket, so I really can’t come by tonight. What if I drop by the club tomorrow night and spend Saturday evening with you?”

Nikki offered a particularly sweet smile. “That sounds wonderful.”

Helen returned the smile and resumed her preparations as Nikki disappeared from sight. Then she gathered up her mobile and briefcase and stopped by the bedroom door to look in on her beloved. Nikki was just settling down on the linen sheets, her long, bronzed body sliding beneath the ivory duvet. Her dark eyes brightened when she saw Helen and she leaned on her elbow, turned toward the door.

“Do I get a kiss good-bye?”

Helen hesitated, an agony of indecision. “God, you look so good lying there, sweetheart. I don’t know that I dare.”

Nikki grinned. “We won’t risk it, then.” She pursed her lips and blew her a kiss.

Helen favored her with a bittersweet smile and turned away. Crossing the living room, she glanced at the clock, determined that she had five more minutes before she absolutely had to leave, and dropped her briefcase on the coffee table. Returning to the bedroom, she promptly pounced on the naked Nikki who welcomed her back with open arms.

“I can’t…stay…long,” Helen murmured between the long, sweet kisses.

“I know,” Nikki responded. “I’m ruining your makeup.”

“I’ll put it back on in the car.”

“How much longer?”

“Mmm, three minutes.”

Helen kissed down her throat, over her breasts and zeroed in on Nikki’s right nipple, flicking it lightly with her tongue.

Nikki gasped. “Oh, God, don’t do that.”

Helen’s response was somewhat incoherent, and completely oblivious to her lover’s objection. Fortunately, Nikki was keeping half an eye on the bedside clock and when the seconds finally ticked away, she pried Helen off her with no little effort.

 “You have to go.” Helen tightened her jaw stubbornly, but she knew Nikki was right. “Okay,” she said as she reluctantly pulled away. She deposited one final kiss on the woman’s warm lips. “I'll be thinking of you every minute.” With more determination than she wanted to fully acknowledge she needed, she managed to walk away from the woman tucked up in her bed without looking back.

Knowing if she did, she’d never get to work.

Nikki glanced at her watch, suspecting that she was going to be late whether she liked it or not. Stifling a sigh, she tried not to fidget as she waited for the lift to ascend, conscious of the closeness of the people around her. She supposed she would always hate enclosed spaces, no matter how long she was away from Larkhall. When the doors slid open, she stepped out into the posh restaurant with a sense of relief.

Monica Lindsay was already seated at their table. An older woman, elegant and refined, few of the people at the tables around her would ever suspect that she’d been in prison, yet that was exactly where she and Nikki had met. Though only peripherally involved in her boss’s criminal scheme, Monica had been charged with embezzlement and sentenced to several years behind bars. Separated from her son, who had Down’s syndrome, Larkhall had been a horrible shock to the woman, but she’d managed to survive, primarily with Nikki's help. When her son died, it had been Nikki who kept her from committing suicide, and Nikki who had somehow found a way to keep her going with her appeal. Once freed, she turned her resources and boundless energy to prison reform, and ran a halfway house for women on parole. She was one of the first people Nikki had looked up after her appeal, and they remained in contact ever since, the pair of them often having lunch at this restaurant overlooking the Thames.

Monica's long face brightened when she spotted Nikki crossing the restaurant, and she rose gracefully from her chair, reaching out to hug her with honest affection. Nikki always felt somewhat awkward around her, gangly compared to her grace. But their time in Larkhall bound them together in a way that even Helen could not share with her.

“It's good to see you, Nikki.” Monica's cultured tones always made Nikki’s vocabulary improve while in her presence. “Was traffic difficult?”

“Just got a late start,” Nikki admitted. “I overslept.”

She leaned back in her chair as the waiter dropped by their water and breadsticks. Once they had given their order and the waiter had departed, Monica’s dark eyes assessed her keenly. Nikki had told her the concern she felt regarding the incompatibility of her and Helen’s jobs the last time they had lunch, and the older woman wasted no time in picking up the conversation from there.

“How are you and Helen doing so far with your differing work schedules?”

Nikki sighed. “It's only been the first week, Monica, but it's already difficult. I was there to see her off on Monday, but I didn't get to see her again until yesterday morning, and only then, because I made a special trip over to make her breakfast. I caught some sleep in her bed, but I was really tired at the club last night, which is why I slept through the alarm today.” She raked her fingers unhappily through her hair. “It's just easier to go upstairs to my flat after a long night, but how can I explain that to her?”

“I'm sure she understands, Nikki.”

“Yes, but for how much longer? It's one thing to talk it through, and believe we can handle it. It's another to have to live with it like we’re doing now.”

Monica's gaze was compassionate. “What are your options? Certainly, you make it sound as if your relationship will suffer greatly if you're separated so much.”

“Trisha and I are going to put in an offer to buy the cafe a couple of blocks down from the club. If all goes well, I'll been overseeing the renovations and management of it. It might mean Saturdays and maybe even Sundays, but at least, I'll be there in the evenings when she comes home.”

Monica smiled. “That's wonderful, Nikki. Helen must be pleased.”

“I haven't told her yet.”

“Why not?”

“I want to know we have it for sure before I go getting her hopes up.”

“But just knowing that you’re making the attempt might make living with your current hours easier for her.”

Nikki flashed her a grin. “Are you giving me advice on my love life now?”

“I always did,” Monica reminded. What might be an impish gleam abruptly appeared in her eyes. “How is Trisha these days?”

“She’s fine. The club’s doing well and we’re staying friends. She’s making that part of it easy. Helen’s a little wary of her, but that’s because she knows Trish was interested in starting up with me again once I was out. It made her look at her as a rival, not just an ex.

“Ah, but Nikki,” Monica smiled at her, “isn’t your love life so much simpler out here?”

Nikki sighed. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you?” The conversation paused as their meals were served, and Nikki dug into her salad hungrily.
“When will you start hiring for this cafe, Nikki?”

“We don't even know if we’ll get it yet, Monica.”

“But when you do?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you consider hiring parolees to work there?”

“I hadn't thought about it. I suppose we could. After all, they need jobs as much as anyone.”

“More, Nikki. You don't know how fortunate you were to come out into a financially stable situation.”

“Actually, I do, Monica.” Nikki paused thoughtfully. “Why haven't you asked about us hiring your clients for the club?”

“Many of these women have a history of alcoholism and drug abuse.”

Flushing, Nikki lowered her eyes. “Right. I should have thought of that. Serving drinks is the last thing they should be doing.”

“And as much as I know and trust you, Nikki, I don't believe you can honestly tell me that there are no other drugs available at your nightclub.”

Nikki exhaled audibly. “No, I can’t. We throw out anyone we discover is dealing, and we’ve tried to keep it as clean as possible, but there’s no way to cover every angle. It’s ludicrous to think there’re none being used by the customers. They bring their own.”

“I can’t put any of my clients in a position like that,” Monica explained. “But a little café sounds like a good way to integrate these women back into society.”

“I’ll definitely keep it in mind,” Nikki promised.

The conversation moved on to other topics as they enjoyed the rest of their meal, and Nikki lingered over coffee and dessert until it was time to go to the club. Offering a hug to Monica, she promised to stay in touch and keep her updated on the progress of the café purchase.

As she took a cab back to Chix, she tried to curb her impatience. She wasn’t entirely sure what time Helen was planning to drop by, but she knew she couldn’t wait to see her. Missing her was an ache that seemed to have taken up permanent lodging in her chest, and she knew there would be no relief for it until she saw her with her own eyes.

She could tell by seven that it was going to be a busy night. The place was already packed and there was quite a queue at the door. She wondered how much it had to do with the weather, which was clear and warm, or the moon, hanging big and full over the London skyline. After telling Lydia to keep an eye out for Helen and make sure she was granted entrance immediately, she popped behind the bar to help serve the backlog of customers.

For whatever reason, it eased up a little around eleven. Nikki thought it was probably a case of the patrons catching a second breath so they could finish off the rest of the evening with a bang, but whatever the reason, she was grateful for it. She caught Trisha’s eye at one point and they shared a conspiratorial grin. Tonight’s takings were going to translate very nicely into their respective bank accounts.

She spotted Helen about fifteen minutes later. She was escorted by Lydia through the crowd, which was probably the only way she could have made it to the bar. Nikki finished serving her customer, and made her way down to the bar stool that had been summarily commandeered for the Scotswoman.

“What can I get you, Miss?” she yelled over the noise.

Helen grinned at her. “This is amazing, Nikki.”

“I know. It must be Pride week or something…only they forgot to tell me.”

Helen leaned over the counter so that their heads were closer together. “I’m going upstairs,” she shouted. “Wake me up when you come in.”

“It’ll probably be late.”

“I don’t care how late it is.” Helen reached out and snagged Nikki by the front of her shirt, pulling her to her. “Wake me up.”

Nikki smiled and kissed her, and then did it again because she needed to. Helen flashed her that tongue-in-teeth smile and started to work her way to the back of the club as Nikki went back to the taps. Maybe if they had been a little further along in their relationship where they took each other a bit for granted, or if she was a trifle more dedicated to what she was doing, Nikki wouldn’t have kept half an eye on Helen as she navigated through the crowd. Or maybe she would have known anyway, with an instinct that came from years of managing a nightclub compounded by those years in prison. In any event, when she saw a woman stand up and follow Helen through the door that said ‘Employees Only’, she was immediately alarmed.

“Melissa! Get Lydia. Tell her to come out back.” Nikki brushed past her head barmaid and ducked under the counter without taking the time to lift it up and go through. Shoving her way through the crowd without apology or any attempt at politeness, she hit the back door with her shoulder and barged through without hesitation.

Bare bulbs dimly lit the narrow corridor leading to the back door and out to the alley where the dumpsters were kept. A side door opened to the stairwell that led to the upper floors, but Helen hadn’t made it that far. The woman who had followed her, big and broad and with looks that made Al Mackenzie, the Peckham Gang’s resident butch, look like a beauty queen, had Helen trapped in the corner. Obviously drunk, it was apparent she was the type whose aggression was in direct proportion to the amount of liquor she’d imbibed.

She was mumbling what she undoubtedly thought were her best lines to Helen who was doing her best to defuse things with her responses, though for whatever reason, she wasn’t really doing a very good job at it.

“Oi! This area’s for employees only.” Nikki’s tone was even, with a calmness she was far from feeling.

The woman turned her head and glared at her, though she didn’t move either arm that was braced against the wall, trapping Helen neatly between them. Nikki was not at all encouraged by the look. The woman’s eyes were small and mean and put her uncomfortably in mind of a Rottweiler…or Jim Fenner.

“Piss off. I’m with my bird.” At least, that’s what Nikki thought she said. It was hard to decipher the thick cockney accent, and Nikki had lived in London for quite some time.

She took a step closer, aware of Helen’s gaze focused on her. She really did look frightened, which surprised Nikki somewhat, but on the other hand, the woman was very big, certainly on a scale with a certain DST officer named Carter.

“First of all, she’s my ‘bird’,” Nikki said coldly, wishing she had a cricket bat in her hand. She should have brought the one under the bar with her. Hindsight, Wade, she thought in disgust. You’re always working with hindsight, which does you no good at all. “And even if she wasn’t, she’s obviously not interested. Piss off out of here before I decide to have you chucked out.”

“Only if she’s coming with me.” The woman made a swipe at Helen who barely ducked out from beneath what would be a crushing embrace.

Nikki lunged forward and managed to impose her body between Helen and the drunk, giving the woman a shove back, or at least, trying to. It was rather like shoving a tree and about as effective. Fortunately, drink and surprise made her stagger a bit anyway, and gave Nikki some breathing space.

She glanced back at Helen. “Are you al…” she began.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the woman swing at her. Without thinking, and reacting purely on instinct, she managed to deflect it up and over her head with her forearm. Still using the momentum of the lunge, she performed a move that Shaz, studying kickboxing, had taught her not long before Nikki won her appeal. Before she quite realized what was happening, she had the woman in an arm lock, forced down on her knees in front of her, and every twitch indicating that she felt a great deal of pain whenever Nikki applied the slightest bit of pressure. Nikki didn't know who was more startled at this sudden occurrence: Helen, herself, or the drunk, who was obviously unused to being in this position.

“Ow. Let me up you cu…Ahhh.”

Nikki eased up a little, not quite sure what she should do next, but aware she needed to keep things as calm as possible. Unfortunately, Shaz had neglected to mention what the follow up move to an arm lock might be. She leaned over slightly and in her most reasonable tone, made the woman an offer. “Okay, what's going to happen now is that I'm going to let you up. You're going to apologize to the lady, and then you're going to get your sorry arse out of here. And you’re not going to get on my tits any more than you already have, because I won't be so bloody gentle the next time.”

Carefully, she released the hold and stepped back, heart pounding as she wondered what would happen next. She was aware of a large body barging its way through the door, and relief flooded her when she realized Lydia had finally made the scene, with both Trisha and Rhonda in her wake.

“Trouble, Boss?”

“No, Lydia, this one was just leaving,” Nikki said coldly, pleased when her voice didn't shake at all. “Escort her out and make sure her friends go with her. Make it very clear that they’re all barred, and let them know she's the reason why.”

All the fight was gone out of the drunk. She mumbled an apology to Helen who didn't acknowledge it, and went quietly with Lydia and Rhonda who led her back out into the club. Nikki watched her go and then turned to Helen. The Scotswoman's expression was one of abject fury and, to Nikki's complete astonishment, it was directed at her.

“What did you think you were doing? I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Angrily, Helen pushed past her, shoving her aside as she slammed through the side door and up the back stairs.

Bewildered and hurt, Nikki was about to go after her when a quiet voice from down the hall said; “Let it go, 'Nik.”

Nikki looked over to meet the level blue eyes of her business partner. “Trisha, she's upset.”

“I know, way out of proportion to what happened.” Trisha looked thoughtful as she walked down the corridor toward Nikki. “She should be able to handle an obnoxious dyke who's had too much to drink. She ran a prison after all. Has anything else ever happened to her?”

Nikki stared at her, unsure of what she meant at first, before she closed her eyes and groaned. “Christ, Fenner. He assaulted her, Trish, a few months ago.” She made another move for the stairs when Trisha put a hand on her arm, forestalling the attempt.

“Let me.”

Nikki frowned. “Why you?”

The look she offered spoke volumes. “Because I know exactly how it feels to have to be rescued by you.”