I hope you’re having a wonderful Monday. It’s damp here in leafy Cheshire, but still too mild for the time of year. Read on for a peak behind the scenes of The Golddiggers:
The Golddigger’s dance studio/gymnasium not far from The Golddigger Theatre, London. The cavernous space is well lit, the brick walls painted chalk white. The building might be old, but it’s in top condition. Skylights in the roof suck in a watery sun. The sprung wooden floor is battle scarred from the batter of tap shoes. A mirror lining one wall with a ballet barre running along its length reflects the room. The place smells of clean sweat, burnt coffee, lemon cleansing wipes, and women. Four girls, all tall and gorgeous, are engaged in their regulation morning warm-up. They’re wearing lilac leotards beneath matching yoga pants, legwarmers and well worn tap shoes.
“Thing is,” Ellie says to Millie, Ruby and Pearl, her hands lift to tighten the messy top knot of honey-blonde hair. “Cheaters never prosper, unless they get away with it.”
Pearl’s all big sad eyes as she heaves a heavy sigh. “He said if he were a tear drop he’d be born in my eyes, live on my cheeks and die on my lips,” she says, deadpan, the music of France a smooth lilt in her voice.
*Cue a stunned silence as three jaws drop*
Ruby’s green eyes go so wide the whites pop against a flawless dark skin. “Seriously? And you didn’t think to yourself, ‘This guy’s a complete tool?‘” When Pearl’s response is a delicate shrug of a skinny shoulder, Ruby shakes her head. “You worry me, babe. I dunno how these things are done in France, but if a guy fed me a line like that he’d be walkin’ funny.”
“Violence is not the answer,” Pearl says an a severe tone, but her hazel eyes twinkle as the girls howl with laughter. “Then he said the whole thing was an accident…”
“Yeah,” Ellie says. “Like he tripped and his dick fell into her mouth, that was some accident.”
Ruby shudders dramatically. “Ew. Don’t put that picture in my head. The worst line I was fed by the world’s worst cheater, ‘Don’t take it so personally, I just want to be single for a little while.'”
Pearl pulls Ruby in close for a conciliatory hug. “He didn’t deserve you. Better men await us.”
Ruby hugs her back. “Yeah? I’m no rush to meet one. Let me tell you I had the mutha of all temper tantrums. I needed an exorcist rather than a naughty step.”
When the girls stop laughing, Pearl heaves another sad sigh. “Me, I realised killing him was not a good plan. I’d end up in jail.”
“Plus, he has a manbun,” Ruby says, warming to her theme. “Can someone here tell me the point of the manbun? Shaved above the ears and then that weird top knot? What the hell is that all about? They look like something out of the Seven Samurai. The manbun usually goes with a beard. Just yesterday I saw a guy with a manbun and a beard. He’d plaited the beard with a little crystal bead tied at the end. What is WITH that? Doesn’t it get in the way? How about brushing his teeth? Drinking?”
All three of her pals shrug, lift their hands and make a who-the-hell-knows face.
“I can’t understand what attracted you to him in the first place,” Ellie says. “He was so thin a strong gust of wind might blow him over.”
“He has an outie belly button,” Pearl says. When her friends go utterly still and give her shocked eyes. She shrugs, and again her dimple pops. “It is a strange thing to be attracted to. I know this, but I cannot help it. I melt.”
“Aw, bless your heart, Pearl, honey,” Millie drawls in a voice as warm and slow as molasses in summer. “You need to stop fallin’ for those metro sexual pretty boys. What you need is a real man. Next time we have a vacation I’m takin’ you home where we like our jeans tight, our trucks big and our men Texan.”
Pearl’s dimple pops in her cheek, but before she can respond to Millie’s very kind invitation, the door opens and in strides the woman who-must-be-obeyed, Miz Birdie. Her black pencilled brows shoot into her hairline as her fists rest on bony hips. Dark beady dark eyes scan the girls from head to toe. “And what’s this? A hen party?”
Millie moves to give the elderly woman a hug and drop a kiss on her wrinkly powdered cheek. “Now, you play nice, Miz Birdie. Pearl’s upset. Found her man dipping his pen in the wrong inkwell.”
Miz Birdie scans Pearl’s face, shakes her head. “Well, honey, you just need to suck-it-up. Have we warmed up yet? No? Jeez, a bit of bad news and we have an oestrogen apocalypse. What’s the GOLDDIGGER MOTTO?” she yells at the top of her voice.
“THE SHOW MUST GO ON!”
Too true, sistas!
Must admit I’m confused by the manbun, too, and the little skinny beard plait with the beads. Last week my daughter told me to stop staring at a guy who would’ve been gorgeous, imho, with his hair down and the beard cropped. But what the hell do I know?
Only FIVE days to go until SEAN goes live and you hold him in your hot little hands….
Love and hugs,