Tiny Dancer

Chapter One: Applications and First Meetings

Milly laughed and rolled her eyes at her.

"You're absolutely 12, do you need help?"

Joanna nodded and sat up a bit. Milly helped her the rest of the way up and unzipped her dress, peeling it off her tired form and throwing it at the dirty clothes bin for the washeteria later, it was only 8 after all. Milly grabbed a ream of peanut butter crackers, aspirin, and a glass of water for her roommate, setting them on the side table by her bed.

"God, you're lovely, you going to Launderette to do the washing?"

"Yep, I should be back in about an hour."

"Okay, love, please don't get stolen."

"Got it, see you in a bit."

After Joanna was comfortably in bed, Milly grabbed the bin and washing-up soap, her tote, and her keys and headed back out to her car. She pulled out of the garage and headed towards the small laundromat at Kings Parade, maybe a five-minute drive away. The little centre was nearly empty by now, but the fluorescent lights of her favourite laundromat still shown bright through the large window in front. It may not have been the greatest in Essex, but the machines were good and the owners were nice and they let her stay late when it was taking too long to dry her pants. She parked in one of the small parking places out front and grabbed her tote out of the passenger seat, the bin following suit, as she walked into the small store.

"If it isn't my favourite niece."

Milly smiled up at the store clerk, Mr. Bernice Hone, and shook her head.

"It's nice to see you too Mr. Hone, but you know I'm not your niece."

"Yes, but you're better than the one I have."

She laughed quietly and laid his pay on the front counter, loading her clothes into the front of the washer and putting the soap in the top. Mr. Hone was an older man with white hair and a kind face; his wife was Shirley Hone, a fiery woman with a large demeanour and a presence to match. Despite her overall rather scary appearance, she was a kind woman who, on more than one occasion, gave Milly extra groceries and offered her tea at her house. Milly sat up on one of the unused washers and opened the book she kept in her tote for the nights that she had to come do laundering, The Philosophy of Modern Art, and listened to Mr. Hone talk in his rattled old tone.

"You know, there's supposed to be someone famous in town this week, some big-shot tosser who got started in Essex, says he's coming home."

"Where'd you hear this?"

"My paper lady told me about it two yesterday mornings ago, I believe, and she acted all excited about it, saying he was throwing a house party over a few."

Milly's eyes peered over the top of her book at the older man and narrowed in slight scepticism.

"A house party, wouldn't that be a little overt for a celebrity?"

"I guess not, or maybe he just invited a few people."

She nodded and continued reading...that was until a body near literally fell through the front door. Milly furled her brow as the man stumbled, clearly quite a bit drunk, up to the counter and began talking to Mr. Hone in a gravely, coarse tone as he stripped off the leather jacket he was wearing.

"Right, so I've got a huge bloody stain on the right panel, and, and a rip in the right shoulder lining. All's I need is a patch kit and maybe three soap tokens."

"Listen bud, I don't have any soap tonight, but the patch kit I can get you, it'll be two quid fifty."

"Sure, sure, hang on and I'll get you that."