Coronation Street 1. Chapter 1

Dirty, dirty, beautiful dirty rich.

_a/n- Obviously the title isn't mine. It's Lady G's. _

Coating her lips in sticky, scarlet gloss, she checked the mirror. Her face was illuminated from the tiny lights speckled around the frame, highlighting her features. She looked somewhat exotic, the bold, feline flicks drawn with liner pen over her lids emphasising the almond shaped orbs, while the light gold she had dusted below her lash line brought out the hazel green colour in a way that was mesmerising. Finishing with a coat of black mascara over her thick, extended lashes, she then reached up and pinched the clip holding her hair to the top of her head, releasing a waterfall of thick, rich, dark brown curls, which just fell short of her slender waist. Teasing the roots with her fingertips, she separated them into soft waves, before coating her hair in a generous mist of spray.

Reaching down, she tugged at the lace band around the silky black stockings, adjusting them against her thigh, before attaching the suspenders which fell from the matching basque, keeping them taut against the toned legs. She stood expertly in strappy stiletto's, balancing without a single wobble, while she misted her skin with a light, fragranced spray, which gave her skin a shiny, sleek look.

There was no denying she wasn't beautiful and maybe she could have looked elegant and classy, if it weren't for the nature of why she was dressed so seductively. She looked dazzling in the mirror, framed with tiny, twinkling lights and sometimes she got lost in the parallel world, living in the lights, living some other, starry life.

The music was coming to an end in the other room, she could hear cheering and clapping, laughter, and she could see the other girls, being thrown fistfuls of notes. This was a way to get rich quick, but by no means was it easy, and that was before the judgement of other people. But she wasn't a stripper, she didn't expose her body for money, rather just dressed to coincide with the guiltless imaginations of willing punters. And danced in a way that further fuelled this. There were worse jobs out there. She lived almost luxuriously with her pay, though vowed that one day, she'd have power and status of her own. Maybe her own little firm of dancers, or any business, really, just something that she was in charge of…

Lost in her imagination once more, she barely noticed as the room started to fill up, with the previous dancers coming into the dressing room and beginning to scrub off their make-up, either to go home if their shift was complete, or brush up for the next half hour. Coughing as the room filled with a million different sprays and scents, she blinked the moisture from her eyes, desperate to keep her make-up in pristine condition.

"Looking good, Carla!" Whipping around, she eye'd the girl who had just spoken to her and smiled. They were friends, inside their little dance group. Though Michelle seemed to disappear once they reached the outside world. She only did several nights a week, though had been offered more. The girl was slightly breathless, her skin shining, though her make-up perfectly intact. Her eyes were smoky grey and smudged softly below her lash line, just enough to make her look sultry. With only a hint of gold tinted gloss left on her lips, she picked up the tube from her own dressing table and applied a little more. Carla watched as her friend pouted softly once she'd finished, smoothing down slick, jet black hair, which fell just a couple of inches below her jaw, ending sharply and neat. She was definitely one of the better looking girls in the group, in fact from an outsiders point of view, it wouldn't be hard to see that the two girls who were talking together were heads above the rest. It wasn't just their looks, it was the fact that their faces didn't adorn the dopey, dazed expression of the other girls, who seemed to have no other ambition but to perform, almost-naked, in front of aging, balding business men, for a wad of notes. Not that they'd ever put them down for it, afterall they were in the same position, so who were they to judge?

"Thanks, 'Chelle. What's the crowd like, tonight?"

Raising one perfectly arched eyebrow, Michelle turned to face Carla. "They're really on one, tonight. I'm going to be worn out after this shift! And Zimmer Frame's in, tonight."

Carla chuckled, lightly. 'Zimmer Frame' was the nickname they'd given to a little old man, with white wispy hair and wandering hands, who liked to think his age allowed him to get away with touching the girls, though sometimes blamed his 'cramps'. He was especially fond of trying to tuck his notes into the girls chests, though his arthritis often caused him 'issues', meaning his hands sometimes seized up, and 'accidently' caused him to grab a handful of something he couldn't handle.

"Did he get you?" She grinned, automatically running her tongue over gleaming white teeth after the action, in case she'd stained them red.

"Almost! I thought he preferred blondes."

"He prefers anyone who doesn't look like they need an oxygen tank. And boobs." Carla finished, raising her eyebrows as she stared pointedly at Michelle's well-endowed chest.

"Don't stare at them like that, not unless you're going to slip me a couple of twenty's." Michelle giggled, pretending to be offended as she crossed her arm over the front of her red corset. "You're looking quite chesty yourself, fillets?"

"Er, you cheeky cow I'll have you know these are all my own! With a little added push…" She bit her scarlet lip, sheepishly, her tongue swiping once more over her polished teeth.

"Yeah, yeah!" She laughed, though this soon turned into a yawn. "I can't wait to get into bed tonight, I've got to get up early tomorrow ."

"I thought it was your day off? Are you going anywhere nice?" Carla had often invited Michelle on nights out, days out shopping, spa weekends, but the girl had always refused, claiming to have other plans.

"Not really, just…It's a cleaning day, my place is a tip, clothes everywhere…"

"Oh, shame. We'll have to do something, one time." Carla murmured, though didn't press the matter. She often thought that perhaps Michelle had a second job, but didn't want to say in case it jeopardized her employment with the club.

"We're back on." Saved by the bell. Michelle stood up on her heels, shot Carla an apologetic smile, as though she was sorry she'd been forced to stop the conversation. Flicking her curls over her shoulder, Carla joined the line 'backstage', already able to hear the beginning of their starting music. As much as she hated being ogled at, she couldn't deny that it sort of felt like she had the upperhand, like she was snatching the hard-earned cash of business men with a shake of her backside or the grinding of her hips against expensively clothed laps, should they choose to pay her for a personal dance.

"Chest out, 'Chelle." She joked, taking the shoulders of her smirking friend and pushing them down slightly. "Time to shine."


	2. Chapter 2

It was one of those rare occasions where she didn't have to do anything. No dancing, no eyelash glue, no scrubbing her face red raw to get rid of the three inches of make-up she wore. In fact, she had no make-up on at all, apart from a dusting of face powder and a light coating of mascara. Carla's long locks were piled on top of her head in a sloppy bun, tendrils slipping down to frame her face. She wore leggings and an oversized jumper which sloped off her shoulders, as she padded aimlessly around her flat adorned in thick, fluffy socks. Spacious and luxurious as her home was, Carla sometimes had to remind herself that she worked for it, and not get caught up in the fact that it was funded by old, wealthy men who probably had oblivious wives back home. Licking her dry lips, she was about to flop on the sofa, next to a bowl of crisps, when the deep vibrations from her phone drew her attention to the glass coffee table. Groaning, she picked it up, expecting a last minute call in to work, however was surprised to see her fourteen year old brother's name flashing across the screen. Though, she wasn't sure which was worse. Rob only ever called when he was in trouble or needed something.

"Hello?"

"Carla! Thank God you're in. I need you to come over." He sounded desperate. Carla rolled her eyes.

"What've you done, now?"

"Nothing! I've not done anything. It's just that mum-"

"How much does she need?"

"I'm not sure…We have no electric and someone came around and took her last twenty…She hasn't been able to get any shopping in, either…"

"I'll come straight over. Get yourself off to school, I'll have everything sorted when you get back."

"I don't have a clean uniform to wear. I'm going to have to go, there's barely any credit left on this phone. Don't be long!" With that, the line went dead, and Carla let out a heavy sigh. So much for her relaxing day in.

It was less than an hour after Rob had called, that Carla's cab pulled into the shabby estate. Almost half the houses had been boarded up, and most of them kicked in. Probably home to drugged up squatters, now. She was laden with shopping bags as she walked up the familiar cracked path to the house she grew up in. At sixteen she'd quit school and together, with her friend Suzan, they'd rented their own apartment. It was around three months after Carla had landed her dancing job that Suzie had flown halfway across the world, to live with her Aunt in LA, and Carla had been forced to say goodbye to her only true friend. She had Michelle, now, but she'd only known the girl six weeks, since she'd started working at the club. Michelle had been nervous on her first night, but Carla had soon helped her to settle in, partly because she'd only been there around six months herself, and remembered how sick she'd felt on her first night.

"Finally! I'm starving." Rob had thrown the door open, eagerly taking the bags from his sisters cramping hands, heading straight into the kitchen. "Mum's passed out upstairs, I wouldn't disturb her."

"I wasn't going to." Carla murmured, stepping through into the kitchen, digging around in her purse for her credit card. "Right, pass us the latest 'leccy bill. I'll get it sorted."

Carla left Rob to sort the food out, while she handled the company, paying for the outstanding money owed as well as the upcoming months' bill.

"How could she let it get this bad, again?" Carla shook her head, trying her hardest not to get angry, when it would only be Rob on the receiving end of her rant.

Rob gave a small shrug, his mouth full of bread and crisps.

"Couldn't you make a proper sandwich? There's some fruit in one of those bags, you don't just have to eat the junk."

"Don't nag, sis, it doesn't suit you."

"There's some washing powder as well, so as soon as the electric's back on, you can do your uniform. Was there no emergency money what so ever? What about your paper round? I could have given you the money straight back…"

"Take a breath, Carla!" Rob swallowed hugely, before swigging orange juice straight from the carton. Carla would have protested, but there probably hadn't been any hot water to wash any cups in. "I got sacked from my paper round." He finished, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Why?"

"I was refusing to deliver to that Posh-o estate."

"Because…?"

"One of the lads there threatened to punch my lights out if he saw my face."

"What? Who? Didn't you call the police? I'll go around there now and we'll see who's so big and hard when their crown jewels are in a vice like grip."

"Oh, Carla don't. Just leave it, yeah? Please…?" This time Rob sounded a little too desperate. Carla raised her eyebrow.

"What did you do?"

"Why do you always assume it's me? For all you know, it might've been his fault."

"Might've? So, it wasn't?"

"Well, not really."

"What did you do, Rob?"

"Nothing! I just went to a party that was going off, there. And it got a bit out of hand."

Carla's forehead creased, her arms folding across her chest. "Rob, you didn't break or set fire to anything, did you? Because I can't pay an extra set of bills every other month as well as paying for damaged caused by you and those idiots you knock about with."

"For the last time, it's sorted! It was weeks ago, anyway."

"Well then if it's sorted, why did you get the sack and why can't you show your face there? If it's something serious I'm going to find out about it and we can do without you adding to the trouble that walks through this door! You know I worry and I wish you'd come and stay with me but I just can't get through to you, can I?"

Letting out a tired groan, Rob shook his head, his eyes rolling in the same manner as his sisters. "I got caught kissing a girl. Okay? It was the bloke's sister. That's it."

"Still, it seems a bit extreme for the sake of a snog. I could go and have a word…? It's understandable, you're getting to the age-"

"Yeah well it was their house and I might have had my hand up her top but I was drunk and-"

"Whoa, alright!" Carla threw her hands in the air, puffing out her cheeks. "I don't want to know. I get it. End of discussion."

"Well you shouldn't be so pushy." Rob murmured, taking another huge mouthful of the crisp sandwich he had made. Despite herself, Carla let out a little chuckle and opened her purse, taking out a wad of notes.

"Do not let her find out you have this. Treat yourself and then hide the rest. Save it for an emergency." She pressed the money into Robs hand, who gave her a grateful smile, before reaching down and stuffing them down into his sock.

"Right, where's your mobile? I'll go to the shop and top it up. I could do with a proper drink, anyway. I didn't want to risk bringing anything because you know what she's like."

"Hang on, I'll come with you. I've been wanting to ask if they've got any Saturday work on."

"You, working, on a Saturday?" Carla smirked, raising a sceptical brow, though didn't argue further. She wasn't about to talk her troublesome brother out of earning a bit of cash in a way that would keep him out of trouble. Well, for a few hours of the day at least. She helped Rob put the remainder of the shopping away, the light from the refrigerator indicating that they had electricity once more.

"And, we can put your uniform in when we get back. You've missed a full day again." Carla reminded him, having only remembered herself when she caught sight of a gaggle of giggling schoolgirls, making their way up the road. "I'll have a word with mum and see how much debt she'd in this time. Has she got any…Y'know? In the house? Is she flogging it again?" It took around three seconds for her to realise that Rob was no longer listening to her, instead tuned in to the group of girls that had crossed over to their side of the street, a small smirked playing on his lips as he eyed them up and down.

"Earth to Rob!" She hissed, to which Rob frowned and answered in a rushed whisper. "Sh. Not now. Be cool." Before Carla had time to protest once more, Rob had raised his voice, calling out to one of the girls. "Hey, Michelle!"

"Oh, is she your girl-" Carla stopped short when she turned to see the girl who'd caught her brothers attention. It took a second longer for her to even process who she was looking at. The girl had grey knee high socks and a pleated skirt just long enough to be appropriate. Her tie was unfastened and hanging limply around her neck and she held her bag across her arm, several battered looking books poking from the top. With minimal make up on her face, she was almost unrecognisable. But not quite. She still had the same big, hazel eyes, only they emphasised with a much softer frame of long lashes, as opposed to the harsh khol pencil and stark, bold shadows that usually adorned them. Carla had never seen her without make-up before, still gorgeous but so…_young._ Too young to be working at a lap dancing club.

"Oh my god, Michelle…"


End file.

Coronation Street, Drama, Friendship