Chelsea Dawn

Johnny sighed as he went up the stairs at the back of the Blue Lion, the gun hanging low on his hip. He quickly glanced around before using the secret key to open the door and locking it as he went to his office. From downstairs he could hear the sound of laughter and clinking of glasses mixing with a jazz album playing on a turntable, the crowd sounding like a good one.

"Right on time, Johnny", said his partner Mick Reilly as he sat nex to Johnny's brother Dickey.

"So how's the place doing?", asked Johnny.

"The Lion turned a profit of six thousand pounds out of a gross of ten thousand, two thousand went towards the upkeept and two thousand for the coppers. The Peach House had a gross of twenty thousand and a profit of fourteen thousand, four thousand for the girls and the staff and two thousand for the coppers", said Mick, showing him the ledgers.

Johnny carefully scanned the ledgers and nodded in approval. "I don't understand you want to own a football clulb, we make so much money with this", siad Dickey disapprovingly.

"I bought the team because I want to go legit, it's more fun than owning a laundrette. And you're a bloody bachelor, Dickey. When you get married, you'll think differentl", said Johnny.

"Not me, I'll not be having any bairns or be tied down. I'm going to have fun and enjoy meself, you'll be stuck with the old ball and chain", he joked.

Johnny said nothing as Mick poured everyone a glass of whiskey. "Go your own way, Dickey. You can be a bachelor and spoil your niece or nephew", he teased.

"Too right, your new boyo could be the next big striker for Chelsea", laughed Mick as he drank his whiskey.

Johnny nodded as he sipped his whiskey. "We signed the new Spanish blokes, Torres and Mata. Good chaps and they speak English real good, Jones found them a flat for them and their wives", he said.

"Why you have to pay for foreigners, we got plenty of good English boys", demanded Dickey.

"They came recommended by Cook, the situation in Spain is a mess and a lot of the Spanish blokes want to get out before it gets too bad. Times like this I am glad to be British", said Johnny as the men nodded.

"Us English aren't savages, Johnny. Imagine if Tory went after and killed Labour or the other way around every election year, we're civilized. I hope these Spanish blokes aren't crazy like that", said Dickey.

"We'll see, I like 'em already. Torres is a tall ginger bloke and Mata is short with blue eyes, friendly and they speak English. Training camp starts in a week and hopefully we'll win the Cup", said Johnny, finishing his whiskey and shaking their hands.

"I can't believe guys had to wear suits every time they went out, jeans are awesome", said Juan as he straightened his tie.

"I'm glad women didn't wear corsets anymore, those sounded terrible", said Christina as she rolled the stockings up her legs.

Juan smiled in appreciation at the sight of her shapely legs in the stockings before she put on black heels. "Verdad, Christina. I'm not into fetish stuff myself, and it looks painful", he said with a grimace.

"You guys ready?", asked Fernando.

"Si, amigo", replied Juan.

Both men wore casual gray suits with matching jackets and fedoras, Violette in a dark blue dress with a slightly longer skirt while Christina had a knee-length skirt and they both wore cloche hats and silk stockings with heels. "Eras muy hermoas, corazon", said Fernando gallantly, taking her hand and lightly kissing the knuckles.

"You Spanish men have all the charm, monsieur Torres. I do hope this show is good, I'm not familiar with the stuff", said Violette.

"Mr. Watson gave us the tickets, he owns a share in the theater", said Juan.

The Blue Lion theater was down the street, it's marquee announcing tonight's show consisting of a magician named the Magnificent Mughal, a juggling act, a Cockney comedian Joey Diamond and after all that a jazz band called The Fulham Counts as Juan showed them the tickets.

"Hey, aren't you the Spanish blokes?", asked a voice with a heavy south London accent.

"Si, are you with Chelsea?", asked Fernando.

"Yeah, I'm Jack Cooper, I'm the goalkeeper. I recognized you chaps when you went to the see the boss, I was in the trainer's office getting me ankle looked at. And good evening to you ladies", said Jack, taking off his flat cap to reveal a shaved head like a cue ball. He was small and wiry with thin face dominated by cheerful blue eyes under black brows, wearing knickers and a white shirt with suspenders.

"Hola, Jack. Mr. Watson got us the tickets. This is my wife Violette and Juan and his wife Christina, I'm Fernando", he said as they all shook hands.

"Glad to meet you all. The jugglers and the magician are naff but Joey Diamond is a funny bloke. The band is all right, but there's always nice-looking birds at these shows", said Jack with a hearty chuckle.

"What's the team like?", asked Juan as they went to bar in the lobby.

"We lost to the Gunners in the Cup, bloody bastards. Pardon my language, ladies", said Jack with a blush.

"It's nothing, Mr. Cooper", said Christina.

"Juan, your wife is Scottish? My nan was from Glasgow", said Jack as he ordred the two Spaniards and himself beers and gin and tonics for the women.

"Yes, my family is from Inverness", she replied.

"Small world, innit? I've lived in London me whole life, born and raised in Lambeth. Used to play for the Spurs but got transfered here, live in Chelsea with all the posh folks. Me mum still lives in Lambeth, she's always wantin' me to find a nice girl", said Jack with a laugh.

"We live in Fulham, Mr. Watson found us the place", said Fernando, drinking his beer.

"Mr. Watson is the best boss, he ain't cheap like old Mr. Black who owned the Spurs. He's good with salaries and he got us our own coach so we can travel, he's always got tickets for the shows here and free drinks at his bar", said Jack.

Violette and Christina sipped their drinks and listened in, filing away this information. "The show's about to start, gentlemen", said Violette.

"All right, ma'am. Fernando, is your wife French? How come you Spanish blokes got nice foreign ladies and my English self can't get any, beggin' your pardon ladies", said Jack.

"Si, she is French. And she says us Spanish men have a lot of swagger, women like us", laughed Fernando.

"Maybe if I went to Spain the girls would like me, but it's a bloody messed up place. One side killing priests and nuns and the other side killing civilians, bloody hell", said Jack in disbelief.

"That's why we left, whoever wins it's not going to be pleasant and there might not be a football season", said Juan.

The group finished their drinks and and went to find their seats. The teather was about the size of a modern movie cinema with velvet seats and a stage hidden by thick dark red curtains, gilt chandeliers overhead providing illumination along with the sconses on the walls, a small orchestra partially hidden in the pit playing upbeat ragtime. After the patrons found their seats, the lights dimmed and the curtain was raised to reveal a man in stereotypic Middle Eastern clothes and an obviously fake beard who bowed to the audience. "Hello, I am Mughal the Magnificent,, and for my first trick I will pick a card from this deck. Some give me a card", he said in a fake Arab accent.

"Queen of spades!", someone yelled.

The magician grinned as his sexy blond female partner in harem clothes handed him a sealed deck of cards in a box, taking the cards and shuffling them. The crowd waited as he reached into the deck and took out the queen of spades, bursting into applause. This is corny, and that's racist too, thought Fernando in dismay.

"Told you the magician was naff, my grandpa does the same trick", said Jack once the act was over.

"And that guy isn't really Arab", said Juan.

"Too right, that's Henry Eakins, went to primary school with him in Lambeth. The bird is his wife Sarah, reckon they thought they'd get better responce if they was Arab", said Jack.

The juggling act was next and it was as dull as Jack said, two fat guys in cheap suits juggling balls and bowling pins to the delight of the children in the crowd. The children then left as Joey Diamond came onstage, a short skinny man wearing a gaudy suit festooned with glittery rhinestones that shone under the lights. His jokes about boozing, nagging mothers-in-law , bratty children and inability to get girls brought down the house, the audience howing in delight. He then put on a cape with the Chelsea FC coat of arms as the crowd cheered, bowing with a fluorish. "Now I hear the footy season is about to start, we are going to beat the bloody Gunners this year. And I heard we got some of the Chelsea blokes in the house", he said as Jack had them get up and wave. "Fellows, we are going to have a better year, we're going to beat the bloody Gunners. Now I'm not saying that because we got Chelsea blokes here, that helps. I bleed blue, since I was a wee lad", he said as the crowd cheered.

"You were right about that, jack. That Joey Diamond guy was funny but the other acts were terrible", said Juan as they left the theater.

"Yeah, he's a funny blke. The ballroom is here, I hope there's some nice girls here", he said.

The ballroom on the other side of the building was the size of the theater, the dance floor surrounded by small tables and a stage on one side where the band was playing. Jack ordered a whiskey and water and scanned the crowd, disappointed when he didn't see many girls. "They'll arrive later", said Fernando reassuringly.

The band played a fast number as people started to dance. "Vamos a bailar, Blanca Nieves", said Fernando, leading her onto the dance floor. He led her in a quick foxtrot as she looked at him surprised. "Mami instead I learn how to dance, girls like it", he chuckled.

Juan chuckled as he watched Fernando dance with Violette, leading Christina onto the dance floor. "You might have to help me out, I don't dance", he said.

"It's simple, just follow me", she said.

Juan let her put his hand on her waist and lead her in a waltz as he soon got the hang of it. "See, it's eady", she teased as he laughed.

Juan just smiled back at her and Christina led him in doing a foxtrot as he quickly got the steps to the faster dance. "You forget, mi pequena Escocia, yo juego futbol, tengo pies rapidos", he teased.

Christina felt weak in the knees when she heard him speak Spanish, his blue eyes full of amusement. "Gustas cuando hablo en Espanol, mi pequena Escosia?", he drawled as she blushed.

Juan gave her a wink as he cupped her chin in his hand and softly kissed her lips. "Mas tarde, corazon", he murmured.