Too Good Girl

by Eleanor Lloyd-Jones

  That’s why the cocaine lay on my kitchen table. That’s why I didn’t put up a fight when Trent asked me to stay behind, and that’s why an hour or so later, I ended up tumbling through an open door with four of them, giggling and high as a kite—an open door that led to a room that I quickly recognised as the one I’d first had sex with Trent in.

  It didn’t alarm me in the state I was in, and nobody forced me inside.

  I quite happily sat and took my turns to inhale the crack through the pipe that was passed between us for the half an hour we sat together on the chaise lounge, my legs intertwined with theirs, my head in Trent’s lap.

  I didn’t think much of it when he lifted me up and threw me on the bed, stripping me of my skirt and knickers, my muddled brain taking little notice of the other three guys in the corner who seemed preoccupied with a bag of drugs.

  I inhaled deeply at the pain that shot through me as he entered me, quickly, abruptly and without warning, and I felt my head fall to the side when his rough chin climbed up my belly, his hands grabbing at my hips as he slammed into me.

  My eyes blurred a little as the taller of the three guys, whose name escaped me at the time, began to wander closer, his hands fumbling near his waistband.

  A wave of nausea washed over me, my body beginning to sweat. I suddenly couldn’t work out where I was or who I was with. My heart was beating unusually fast, and the feeling of euphoria was replaced by intense anxiety.

  I heard Trent’s voice in my ear, whispering for me to hold still, shushing me, stroking my hair.

  I tried to fight but I was too weak, my head in pain and my eyes unable to focus. I wanted to sit up, but hands held me down.

  So many hands.

  Too many hands.

  Jack

  There’s A reason Why (I Never Returned Your Call) by Blossoms

  THERE WAS SOMETHING calming about the sea that couldn’t ever be described. Even when the waves were rough and monstrous as they were tonight, I always felt at peace—peace in a life where I struggled to switch off.

  Working at night was a lonely existence, and because of it, I didn’t interact with many people at all. Jamie, my ‘colleague’, was about the only person who I could and would talk to about anything other than the price of eggs, and even then it wasn’t often. Stealing cars meant silence most of the time, our communication consisting of hand signals and body language. It was a rare occasion if we had time to sit and bullshit or have deep and meaningfuls.

  It had been three weeks since I’d left Syra at the club, and as the wind blew my hair around my face, the moonlight glistening off the surface of the water, I knew I was making a big fucking mistake.

  I’m in too deep.

  Those words had got stuck as I’d tried to say them to her that night, and I realised that was because I was trying to let her go. If I’d said them out loud, I would have continued to wage the war in my head. I’d have continued to fight past her resistance and work my way into her heart.

  My life had been a series of cockups, through no fault of my own, and landing a lifelong contract with Doug was the result of those fuckups. I was indebted to him in so many ways because of my deadbeat father, and I’d been looking at Syra as another problem to deal with lately.

  That was wrong of me. So fucking wrong. Working my way inside of her was exactly what I should have been doing. I never should have stopped and I certainly shouldn’t have been leaving her to fend for herself at The Release.

  I was in too deep and it was time I did something about it. She didn’t know what the fuck she was doing, and she had no one else to help her work it out. It was my duty as her friend and… well… it was just my duty. I cared about her more than anyone else did, yet there I was doing exactly what those who were supposed to love her had done: I’d abandoned her and left her to implode. And she would, I had no doubt.

  I knew about her past. I knew her father had been involved in the drug trade and how he’d died of a lung disease born of drug use. I knew her mother was a fucked up junkie who was almost beyond help. And I knew more—more than she was telling me, and more than she knew herself.

  It was my duty now, and I needed to grow a pair and take responsibility. It didn't matter if it hurt me. She was hurting more and I needed to help pull her out of the depths of her own mind in any way possible.

  I kicked at the sand and trudged back up the beach to the road, heading towards the house we’d shared for three years. I had no idea what I was going to say to her when I got there, but I hoped the words would come to me when I opened my mouth to speak.

  It was almost midnight when I arrived. The whole place was in darkness, and I knew then that she wasn’t in. Syra never went to bed with all the lights off.

  “Fuck no. Someone might break in, thinking its empty. Always leave a light on, Jack.”

  I smiled at the memory of her weird little habits and walked backwards, my head lifting to my old bedroom window.

  I hated Doug at the best of times, but the fact that he’d manage to wrap his slimy fingers around Syra and entice her into his world made me seethe. I was kicking myself inside for letting her go, for inadvertently pushing her in his direction and for leaving her there, a head full of cocaine.

  I’d convinced myself I couldn’t deal with the way she shut me out. I’d talked myself out of caring anymore and I’d promised myself I wouldn’t get involved if she wanted to sink further.

  I was wrong.

  Of course I could deal with it all because I loved her. I loved her with everything I was and I had done for a very long time. I’d never spoken the words to her, but I was sure she could see it in my eyes everytime I looked at her. I was sure she could hear it in my heartbeat.

  There had been other girls in the past, flings and one night stands. I’d had the odd relationship when I was a young teen, but nothing and no one had my body on fire the way she did.

  I closed my eyes at the memories of her in my hands, her body beneath mine the morning after I’d found her drugged up in our living room. Finally getting to touch her, to taste her, had only cemented my feelings.

  She was marred and scarred. She was tainted by so much hurt and heartache. She’d been used and abused almost beyond repair by these men she insisted on sleeping with, but to me that made her more beautiful.

  Every tear track she let me see that day gave me a new window to look inside. I wanted to understand her hurt, and that morning, I’d found myself wearing it on my back as I left for work. She’d given a piece of herself to me that day, and I’d kept it clutched to my chest ever since, hoping with all I could that she would keep giving.

  But that wasn’t Syra.

  She was fiercely independent. She thought she was doing the world a favour by struggling under the weight of her past. Little did she know that my back was strong, my shoulders broad and my heart empty, ready to be filled up with her. I was ready to take on the challenge that was Syra Johnson, and this time I wasn’t going to give up.

  I arrived at The Release ten minutes later, assuming she’d be working since she wasn’t at home. I’d heard rumblings about a party being held there but didn’t know much about that.

  Approaching the doors, I put my hands into my jeans pockets and nodded at the bouncers as I walked towards the entrance.

  “Not tonight, buddy.” The guy’s arm stopped me after a couple of steps. “Exclusive party. We’re closed to the public.”

  I sighed and nodded. “My friend works here. I just—”

  “No can do, mate. Sorry. You’ll have to go home. Or wait.”

  I smiled tightly and nodded again. I wasn’t one for causing any trouble, as much as I was desperate to get inside. “I’ll wait. Thanks.”

  I’ll wait. I had no idea when her shift ended but I would wait. Because I’d waited long enough to come to my senses so waiting a couple of hours longer wouldn’t do me any harm.

  I spent the first twenty minutes sitting on the w
all a few hundred yards up the road, periodically glancing towards the club in the hopes that she’d finish early. An hour went by before I got restless, two am approaching quickly and my need to get to her wild and tumultuous in my gut.

  I stood and tried my luck again. “Listen. I only want to nip in and talk to my friend. I’m not going to try to join the celebrations. I just want to talk to her.”

  “It’s still a no. Boss man gave us strict instructions. No invite, no entry.”

  I clenched my teeth together to keep my thoughts to myself, wracking my brain for a way to get past these guys. “Tell Doug I’m here; he’ll let me in. I work for him.”

  The guys looked at each other and shrugged, one of them unclipping his radio and holding it up to his mouth. “Fred, you there, man?”

  A crackle and a couple of beeps later, an unfamiliar voice replied. “What’s up, Jedd?”

  “Yeah, erm, I’ve got a guy here. Says he works for Doug. Wants to come in and talk to his friend.” He looked at me. “Who’s your friend, bud?”

  A little hope lit in my chest. “Syra. Syra Johnson. She’s a barmaid.”

  A smirk drifted across Jedd’s face. “His friend is Syra.”

  Another crackle gave way to this Fred guy’s voice again. “I’ll come down.”

  Jedd and his ‘twin’ resumed their positions in front of the door, arms behind their backs, heads cocked to the side and legs apart, swaying slightly. They were not letting me through there come hell or high water.

  Another ten minutes went past, and I paced up and down the pavement waiting and wondering what was taking so damn long. Now I’d made my mind up, I was anxious to see her, to talk to her, to tell her I was going to be there for her in whatever capacity she needed me to be.

  The sound of voices and then the door opening had me stopping and turning to face the noise, and I stepped forward as a barman came and stood between the bouncers.

  “Jack, is it?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, man. Thanks for coming down. I need to get in there and talk to Syra. Syra J—”

  “Johnson. Yeah. I know her.” His eyes narrowed. He gave me a look, like he was sussing me out, sizing me up. “She’s working until two.”

  Pointing towards the foyer of the club I nodded. “Could I wait inside until she’s done?”

  “Who are you, man?” He folded his arms across his chest, and the bouncers followed suit, the three of them looking like something out of a gangster movie.

  I huffed a small laugh out of my nose. “I told you. I’m her friend, and I need to talk to her. I’m not interested in crashing whatever dodgy party Doug is holding, and yes I know Doug, too. I want to speak to her.”

  Freddie stared at me for a few more seconds before nodding. “You can wait near the ticket office. I’ll let her know you’re there. She’ll be down after two.”

  I let out a relieved lungful of air and thanked him with a genuine shake of his hand and followed him past Tweedle Dum and Tweedle fucking Dee, taking a seat on one of the couches in the entrance foyer.

  Leaning forwards, my elbows on my thighs and my hands steepled by my face, my knees bounced, my eyes flicked to the huge clock on the wall literally every five seconds, waiting and willing for the damn minute hand to reach the twelve at the top. It did and it startled me to my feet that began pacing almost immediately.

  This urge, this need, this incessant desire to be near her again all of a sudden was consuming me like fire. I mentally calculated that it might take her five minutes to gather her things so sat down again, only to stand to my feet every time the door swung open. Each time though, it was someone I didn’t recognise.

  It was just after quarter past when my patience reached its thinnest point without snapping. I moved to the coded doorway that was now merely trickling with staff members, and waited for it to open again, grabbing it before it shut when a blonde-haired, barbie doll came swinging from behind it, popping gum and bitching loudly about someone or other.

  “She’s far too big for her boots, and she’s going to come crashing down when she realises she’s not all that.” Another pop of her gum and a glance my way had her whispering to her friend and shimmying out of the main doors.

  I waited until they’d gone before slipping inside and finding myself in a brightly lit corridor. There were three doors along the right hand side, and all of them were shut. I pulled open the first one, finding myself face to face with brooms and other cleaning equipment. The next one opened up into a large changing area, with lockers, toilet cubicles and a huge mirror that stretched along the far wall.

  “Syra? You in there?” There was no reply, so I backed out of the room and continued down to the third door. On opening it, I found myself on the ‘shop floor’ so to speak: the bar area.

  “Shit.” I stood back, leaving the door open a crack to watch the comings and goings of the remaining members of staff, to wait for an opportunity to sneak onto the club floor and to try catch a glimpse of her.

  My chance came when I saw Freddie call the girls out of the bar and onto the floor. He had them in a huddle, talking to them and pointing, obviously giving instructions of some sort. They were all looking over at the dance floor and the other end of the bar, so I snuck out, crouched behind the beer taps and let myself out from the nearest hatch. Luckily, there was a large group of punters congregated near the stairs, who kept me hidden from view until I came up with my next move.

  I needed to speak to Freddie. He was the only person who was going to be able to help me find her, but I needed him on his own.

  I hung around near the back of the group of party-goers until the young waitresses dispersed. I watched him walk towards the dance floor and took my chance, jogging in his direction and grasping hold of his shoulder to stop him.

  “Freddie.”

  He turned around, a surprised expression on his face until he realised it was me.

  “It is Freddie, right?”

  He shrugged out of my grip. “How the hell did you get in here? I told you to wait outside.”

  Thinking on my feet, I blamed it on the bouncers, thumbing over my shoulder. “Um. Jedd let me in. Said you wouldn’t mind now you knew who I was.”

  “She’s likely to have left already.”

  I shook my head. “She hasn’t. I…”

  Something passed across his eyes. He could tell I was lying about how I got in, but he wasn’t about to make a fuss inside the club. He lifted his chin towards a booth on the edge of the dancefloor. “Sit over there. I’ll find her.” I nodded in thanks and sat hunched forwards, my arms draped across my legs and my knee bouncing, again.

  Something about the fact that she needed to be found was unsettling me. The club was huge, but if the majority of the staff had left, and not that many punters remained, surely there were only so many places she could be. I watched him wander through the door I’d exited and then back out again a few minutes later. He chatted to a couple of other staff members, who shook their heads, and then jogged up the stairs to the VIP area. As he descended, he caught my eye and shrugged, his arms out by his sides.

  I got up and met him halfway.

  “She must have left, buddy. Sorry.”

  “She hasn’t left.”

  Huffing with what could only be described as frustration, he fixed his eyes on me. “Listen, Jack, or whatever the hell your name is. Right now, I have a party to wrap up and quite frankly, you’re wasting my time. Syra isn’t here. She’s gone. Ring her number, knock on her front door, I don’t care right now. She’s not here.”

  I bit the tip of my tongue, my chin resting on my chest as I looked up at him. “I’m telling you now, she is here. She is in this club. I’m asking you nicely to help me find her.”

  “I’m telling you I’ve looked, and I’m asking you nicely to give it up. Go home.”

  I squeezed my eyes tight as I fought past an unfamiliar rage building inside of me. I was a peacekeeper, I kept my nose clean in
my personal life, I hid in the shadows and caused no one any trouble, but this guy was pissing me the fuck off.

  “Do I need to get the guys to escort you out?”

  My head kicked up. “Listen—”

  “I’m done listening, come on.” Freddie reached out and cupped my shoulder in a bid to urge me in the direction of the main exit and something inside of me snapped. In the blink of an eye, I had him hauled up against the nearest wall, my forearm across his chest and my forehead a centimetre from his. “Syra Johnson is messed up. Do you hear me? She migrates towards self-destruction and has no control over her emotions. She is broken, right to her very soul, and I’m telling you she is somewhere in this club and you need to fucking find her.”

  His face was wide with surprise and a flinch of fear, and as I dropped him, he shrugged away from me, straightening up his tie and pulling down on his waistcoat.

  Something had changed in his eyes, and I knew I’d got to him.

  He liked her.

  The look was full of concern and after clipping his radio to his back, he set off walking. “Follow me.”

  Jack

  Catapult by Jack Savoretti

  THE STROBE LIGHTS hit the floor and swept up into a pulse that matched the beat of the music making it difficult to see people’s faces. That didn’t stop me squinting and scanning every one of them to see if I could see her.

  Freddie led me to the back of the club, through a well-disguised door and into yet another corridor. The place was like a maze. I hadn’t realised quite how big it was until then.

  He turned to face me. “Wait here a minute.”

  I nodded and watched him walk to the far end of the corridor where he lifted his radio to his mouth and muttered something into it and the crackle of a reply had him waving me over.

  I wasn’t sure what the hell was going on. If he was taking me to Syra, why were we here and not in the main part of the club? An uneasiness settled in my stomach as I reached him and saw the frown twitch between his eyes.

  “If I go in here, if it becomes common knowledge that I led you here, I will be fired. Understood? I can’t lose my job. My name does not get mentioned once you go through this door. Okay?”