The Yonner Dolls

I’re nineteen when I first met the Dolls.

It’re late, and it’re pissin’ it down. Me clothes’re slick with rain. Hair drenched. Makeup runnin’ from where I’d been ballin’ me eyes out a storm. Caught me bastard of an ex fuckin’ some random guy in our flat. Though if I’re bein’ honest, I suspected as much. It’d felt for a while that the spark had gone. And the sex were pretty shit. Not like it used to be when we first started goin’ together. Back then, he were “a freak in the sheets”. A real Fred Flintstone. Or at least I took his word for it. Hadn’t much to compare it to.

Anyway, that were me. Standin’ in the chipee, waitin’ in line for a battered sausage while the old guy behind the counter leered at me stockin’s. Not the first time I caught him checkin’ me out. He’re a right sex pest, him. He’s had it off with many a customer. Sex and free chips. Thin’ is… I like chips. And I’re broke. This were me last £10 until payday… I suppose I could accidentally drop it. Oops, sorry Jim… let me just bend over and pick it up for ya. Don’t mind the skirt, yeah? He wouldn’t mind. I know his type. His type were me. Youn’, down on their luck, willin’ to give him the goods.

I try not to think what me Ma would say… what me Da did say…

****

“Ya alright, James?”

Dinah Harper sauntered into the shop. Trailin’ behind her’re Tiffany Lynns, Rebecca Dent, Gillian Drake and their token boytoy, Steven. Steven were hangin’ off Rebecca’s arm like he’re a trophy; large, stocky, blonde hair, frosted tips and a pair of joggy bottoms that are down so low you can see the colour of his Calvin’s - red if you’re interested. I weren’t. I know better not to touch Steven Holmes. Not if I wanted to live to eat me next portion of Jim’s finest. He and Rebecca had “The Arrangement.” She works, and he makes the home a home. They have it good. He’re a good man, Steven. Loyal. Not what you’d expect by lookin’ at him. And Rebecca… well, she’s Rebecca.

That’s why me Ma tells us to never judge a horse by its mouth. Or sommit like that.

“Yeah. I’m good pet. Ladies. The usual?”

“Just chips tonight, James. We’re celebrating. Grab us a table, will ya, girls?”

They do as she says, grabbin’ the nearest booth. They’re spoilt for choice. I were the only one here until they arrived.

“And how are you paying tonight, pet?”

“Cash. As I said. Tonight we’re celebrating.”

Dinah removes a twenty from her bra and whaps it on the counter.

“You keep all your money there, pet?”

“Well, it beats where Rebecca keeps it. Ain’t that right, doll?”

“Oh, aye, yeah,” Rebecca calls over to Jim, from where she is sittin’ on Steven’s lap, in the most sultry voice.

She has been listenin’ in to every word, all while givin’ his shoulders a massage.

“Much better.” Her eyes drift down, deliberately, and she moves Steve's hand over purple sequined mini dress. Jim follows her gaze intently. 

“Hmm. I would like to see that."

“Hmm, I bet you would. But what’s in it for me?”

Rebecca chuckles. She is still goin’ with the massage.

“Free chips for a year. For you and your boyfriend.”

“You hear that, babe? Free chips for a year. A very tempting offer, innit?”

“Can we please get a Cream Soda to go wit’ it?”

Steven’s eyes went wide, like a puppy. A smirk teased his lips.

Ha! Sly bastard.

“Hmm. For your pretty girl, you can even have a Coke.”

“Ohhh, you drive a hard bargain, James. Very well. A deal’s a deal. I’ll settle my tab on Friday.”

Rebecca’s hands move under the neck of Steven’s Everton shirt, rubbin’ his collarbone.

“You’re having chips again Friday, love. Say thank you to the nice man.”

“Thanks, Jim lad.”

Steven sucks Rebecca’s face. It’s a proper snog. And I can see it’s totally performative for Jim. He’s lovin’ it. And they are too.

“Your chips are ready, darlin’,” Jim says to me at last, tearin’ himself away from the Rebecca and Steven show just long enough to slide the polystyrene box across the counter.

“Cash? Or…”

The implication hangs in the air. I pause long to think. Lookin’ between the note, then Jim, and back again. Granddaddy or chips? Grandaddy or chips? Grandaddy or …

The decision were made for me. Thank you, Dinah, for savin’ me from a night of regret and terrible sex with Jim Ramsey, the CodFather!

“Cash,” Dinah said in a calm, no-nonsense voice.

She’d been watchin’ me closely.

“On my order.”

“You don’t need…” I begin, though I want to tell meself to shut up and take the offer.”

“Nah. You’re all good. I don’t like seein’ pretty girls cryin’”

She hands me a tissue.

“You on your own?”

“Yeah,” I say, dabbin’ me eyes.

“Well, why not come and join us, yeah? Oi, Posh and Becks, move over. We have another Doll joinin’ us. You’re a Doll, ain’t ya? Or an Enby? Or, maybe even a Cis? I hate to presume.”

“I’m a Doll,” I say proudly, sharin’ her look of recognition.

I're observant. I know the tells — the small details that say things like, I’m a Doll, I’m queer, or else I’m an ally, and you’re safe with me. Spotting them is a necessity these days.

I see the small pin badge on her purse.

Plus, I know all about ‘em. In a small town, a group of queers stick out like a sore thumb. But a group of Trans Dolls … Yeah… we are quite the stir… for good … or for bad.

Rebecca and Steven move over, clumsily, makin’ room for me to join ‘em at the table. They don’t make it easy for themselves. Rebecca is still sittin’ on Steven’s lap, her arms wrapped around the back of his head.

They nod as I take me place. I offer ‘em some of me chips, and were grateful and relieved when they refused.

“It’s Carla, right?” Steven says at last, lookin’ me up and down.

“Yeah. How…?”

“You’re Alan Baker’s—”

“Ex. Newly. And happily too.”

I say quickly. Too quickly, chokin’ on a chip. I cough and splutter into the tissue.

“Good for you, darlin’. He’s a prick.”

Rebecca says, passin’ me a small hip flask from her purse. I drink and were pleasantly surprised to find it ain’t Whiskey. It’s Peppermint tea. A little trick she learned from Hebburn: keep it in a hip flask, and it makes ya feel like you’re joinin’ in when everyone else is drinkin’ around you. She does the same with lemonade shots. You wouldn’t tell from her that she is teetotal.

You know Alan?”

“Oh, honey, I know most people in this little town. And Alan Baker… Yeah, we’ve met. Unfortunately.”
“I thought you liked him?”

“No. You’re confusin’ him with Alan Harris.”

“Ah… yeah, I am.”

“Alan Baker’s a handsy prick. I told you what he were like when I met him at his work do last year, didn’t I?”

“You work with Johnson and Johnson?”

I ask, surprised to meet one of Alan’s mates from work.

Small world.

“No. God no,” Rebecca says, restin’ her chin on her hand.

“I were the … entertainment.”

Entertain…? Oh, right — I did hear this story from Alan.

“You’re a stripper?”

“Among other things… Yes.”

She is very matter-of-fact.

“I am what you’d call one of this town’s leading experts in the world’s oldest profession.”

“Huh?”

“I’m a sex worker, Doll.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. She is, too. And she is. And he is… She’s not,” Rebecca points at Dinah, “She just likes suckin’ cock and gettin’ fucked.”

“I do charge sometimes,” Dinah says, motionin’ to the rest of the money in her bra.

“Hey — A girl has to eat. And pay the bills. And not everyone is such a pushover as ol’ Jim over there.”
She winks and blows him a kiss.

“In fact, that’s how we all met. Steven tried and failed to pick me up. I tried and failed to pick Gillian up. Rebecca successfully picked up a pair of twins and their mate from Hackney: (I later found out that were Steven, his twin brother Ethan and Tiffany.) The rest … is history.”

“Herstory.”

“Ha. Ourstory.”

“OURSTORY!”

Dinah notices the rest of the chips are ready and goes to get ‘em.

“Well, Dolls — fill your boots.”

Steven slathers his chips with brown sauce.

Rebecca sucks ketchup suggestively off hers. Her eyes flicker from Steve to Jim. Both are into it.

I have finally tucked into me battered sausage. It were worth the wait. It tastes so good. Though, because of the company I were keepin’, I can’t look 'em in the eye — the jokes and innuendos would’ve been merciless.

****

We spent the rest of the evenin’ chattin’.

Them about work:

How Rebecca and Gillian, former roommates, first got into everythin’. It were durin’ their first year of uni. They’re only a few years older than me, but you wouldn’t have known it from the way they talked.

How Rebecca and Steven first became a couple.

Dinah kept interjectin’, singin’ lines from Beauty and the Beast; “barely even friends, then somebody bends - pointin’ at Steve - unexpectedly,” & “Both a little scared, neither one prepared {Rebecca and Steve}.”

Steve smiled and laughed, and blushed. Rebecca kicked Dinah playfully under the table. She'd removed her heels by this point. We all had. 

How Steven worked the streets; his aesthetic attractin’ a lot of attention from rich condescendin’ professional types, who looked at him like he’re somethin’ off a chef’s special menu. He made good money. Great money. But nothin’ compared to Rebecca. And he’re more than happy with that.

Tiffany shared her stories about buskin’ with her guitar. Drummin’ up attention.

And that they first started the Dolls to ensure their safety while workin’ the bars, clubs and streets.

Dinah were Denmother. Not because she were the oldest. Cause she’s not. She’s the same age as Steven. But because she knew a couple of lawyers and police officers, and with little persuasion, learned everythin’ she needed to know about the rights of sex workers.

Eventually, it were me time to talk.

Me about how much of a bellend Alan were. About the lack of spark. His late nights back. His early starts. The stories, which now, on reflection, sounded so incredulous, I didn’t stop to think that he’re full of shit.

The more I said this stuff out loud, the happier I felt about me decision to leave him. Good luck to the other people he shags. May they get better sex than I ever did with that one-pump chump.

By the time Jim turfs us out, I had laughed more than I had in ages. Me cheeks were sore, but I didn’t mind; for the first time in a while, things felt a little lighter.

****

“Is that really the time? Shit. I… I’ve got to get back to … well, I can’t go back to the flat. Not tonight. So… I guess me mate. They say I can always crash with them in a pinch. Besides. Got to be up early tomorrow for work… … … Will— will I… … see you again?”

I probably sounded so desperate there.

But they just smiled and laughed.

“What do you think, girls? Will we see her again?”

Their pause were intense. Felt like I're bein’ fuckin’ edged.

“Yeah!”

“Hmm. Congratulations, pet. You’ve become one of the family. Welcome to the Yonner Dolls.”

****

That’re four years ago.

And I’ve never looked back. Well, not until today.

Me weddin’ day.

With me Dolls here beside me.

With Tiffany, Gillian and Rebecca as me bridesmaids.

With Steven as me Usher.

With Dinah givin’ me away.

And as I walk down the aisle, where Ronnie Queen is waitin’ for me, I thank me lucky stars I chose Jim’s Chip Shop to have an existential crisis.