by Dawn Goodwin
Oh, it’s all so easy. Little steps to the precipice.
Veronica
I stood in the street for a moment, waiting for the Uber to pull up. The moon was full and bathing the street in silver, and I couldn’t help feeling light in spirit now that I was out. The Uber pulled up to the kerb and I could see Scarlet in the back seat already. She was dolled up to the nines in a neon pink fitted top, skin-tight, black, leather-look trousers, and white heels. As I climbed in next to her, she wolf-whistled and I giggled.
‘Looking hot there, girl,’ she said, grinning.
I flushed. ‘Stop or I’ll convince myself to go back inside and change.’
‘No, you won’t.’
‘Maybe I shouldn’t go out tonight. Tom has just got home, he’s on his own, maybe…’ I looked back towards the house as the car pulled away, the weight of my selfishness now clouding over my earlier good mood.
‘Stop, would you? Have a bit of fun – let’s go and have a laugh, a few drinks, and if after a couple you want to call it a night, then we can. Don’t pull the plug yet though.’ She was throwing me the puppy-dog eyes again.
I hesitated a moment longer, then said, ‘Oh all right. One or two then. But make sure I hang onto my shoes!’
The driver was watching me closely through the rear-view mirror, but I ignored him and looked out of the window at the people we passed. I couldn’t help wondering what was going on in their lives. One thing my recent experiences had taught me was to never assume that the mask we show in public is the same face we wear behind our own front door. Sometimes there is a bigger fight going on inside than we care to admit and that, after noticing Felicity tonight, as she staked her claim to a few feet of tarmac for her precious 4x4 that had never seen a drop of mud, sometimes we stress about the little things too much. I looked over at Scarlet as she gazed out of the window and I had a moment of pure affection for her, my only friend. Then close behind that was a writhing worm of self-doubt: would she be there for me if tragedy struck again? Hopefully lightning doesn’t strike the same place twice, but considering how distant I now was from my old friends, how did I know she wouldn’t react in the same way? Or that I wouldn’t? She had been supportive when she had heard about Grace, but could I take it at face value? She didn’t seem to have a serious bone in her body.
Most of my old friends had taken the approach that I would come to them if I needed to talk and that I just needed time. Others had struggled to find the words, preferring to retreat politely rather than feel any awkwardness. It was easier for them that way, but not easy for me to deal with the overwhelming seclusion, as though I was a lone black cloud in a perfect blue sky, with everyone hoping it would just blow over.
‘You’re quiet. Not stressing about something, are you?’ Scarlet asked.
‘No, just wondering where all these people go and what their stories are.’
‘Sorry, love?’ the driver asked suddenly as he peered through the rear-view mirror again at me.
‘Oh, um, nothing, thanks,’ I replied. He turned up the radio and I lowered my voice.
‘I love a bit of people-watching,’ Scarlet said, watching the sights in the street.
I sat quietly, aware of the driver’s eyes flicking between me and the road. I met his glance and he looked away quickly. Scarlet babbled on next to me as we drove through the streets. I nodded here and there, letting her fill the silence. After ten minutes, the driver looked up to ask where we wanted to be dropped off.
‘Outside El Chihuahua’s would be good, thanks,’ I replied.
The car pulled up to the kerb and we clambered out. As I went to close the door, the driver looked back at me and said, ‘You okay, love?’
‘Yes. Looking forward to a night out with my friend,’ I replied.
‘You go easy, okay? Be careful.’
‘Um, thanks…’
‘Come on, you. Let’s get in there!’ Scarlet said over my shoulder.
I gave the driver a quick smile, then stepped back as the car pulled away.
*
The bar area was almost full to capacity, with revellers swilling carnival-coloured cocktails. Scarlet led the way, weaving through the bodies in the general direction of the bar. Generic Mexican music played in the background and the air was heavy with citrus, masking an undertone of something acrid. As I drew closer to the queue at the bar, I noticed a neon sign towards the far end of the room that read ‘The Dirty Sombrero’, with an arrow pointing down some darkened stairs.
I leaned into Scarlet’s ear and said, ‘I wonder what goes on down there then,’ pointing the sign out to her.
‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ she said, still surging forward.
We hovered near the back of the queue for a moment and, just as I was wondering how in hell we would get served, Scarlet grabbed my arm and pushed me forward roughly, saying, ‘Get me something with tequila in it.’
I threw her a startled look just as I collided with a tall man standing in front of me. He turned abruptly and glared at me as I stammered out, ‘Sorry, I tripped.’
Just as quickly, his glare softened and he said, ‘No worries, babe. Trying to get to the bar?’
I threw a glance at Scarlet, who gave me the thumbs up, before replying, ‘Yeah, no chance right now though, right?’
He smiled, then said, ‘Tell you what, when I get served, hopefully next, I’ll order for you as well. How’s that?’
‘That’s very sweet of you, thanks. Two Tequila Sunrises please.’
‘You’ll owe me though.’
‘Oh, I’ll give you the money obviously,’ I said, affronted.
He chuckled. ‘No, I mean the next time you’re at the front of the queue, you’ll have to get my round in for me.’
‘Oh!’ I said with a shake of my head and made a mental note to relax a bit. ‘Of course.’
A small part of my brain had registered his twinkly eyes, dimples and the way he had leant in to be heard, his aftershave lingering between us, but the uptight, married part of me promptly slapped me back into place.
I heard him order three pints and the cocktails, so I scrabbled in my bag for my purse and pulled out a few notes to reimburse him. Scarlet stood to the side of me, scanning the room. Every now and then, her eyes would alight on a face and I could almost hear the gears turning as she considered the options in the room. I started to panic that she would end up meeting someone and would leave me to fend for myself. The idea caught in my throat. Then my knight in a shiny shirt turned back towards me with the two drinks in his hands.
‘There you go, ma’am,’ he offered with a smile.
‘Thanks so much. Here…’ I handed over the money, hoping he wouldn’t argue about taking it. As it was, he happily accepted it, although protested that I had offered too much and handed a fiver back with the promise to look out for me later when his round was due.
I turned back to Scarlet and followed her towards the stairs I had seen earlier. She had spied an empty nook that we could settle into, with our backs to the wall and a perfect view of the revelry playing out before us.
‘He was nice,’ Scarlet said, pointedly not meeting my eyes, but with a cheeky grin on her lips.
‘Very charming, but I’m a married woman and you are my chaperone. Don’t get any ideas of hooking up with anyone cos if you leave me to my own devices, God knows what I could do.’
‘Yeah, cos you’re such a party animal,’ she teased.
‘You’re right – I would probably slink off home for a cup of cocoa and an episode of Poirot.’
We laughed as I took a long pull on my straw. The cold, sweet cocktail flooded my mouth, making me wince. ‘Wow, that’s sweet. I can hardly taste the tequila.’
‘There’s probably none in there – they charge you for it, but put half a tot in. Just means we can drink more though. Or we switch after this and go for a naked tequila shot.’
‘But then the drink is over too quickly, don’t you think? One gulp and it’s gone. Are we playing
the long or short game tonight?’
‘Oooh, look at you getting lairy!’
We clinked our glasses together and settled into perusing the room again. I noticed a few people disappearing down the mysterious stairs over the next half an hour, and could hear different music filtering up every time a door at the bottom opened.
‘I want to know what goes on down there,’ I said to Scarlet.
‘So ask someone.’ Everything was black and white for her, no anxiety about talking to strangers, fumbling her words or creating the wrong impression. I envied her that too. It was a new experience for me to be in a relationship where I was the envious one, and I wasn’t sure how comfortable I was with it.
Our drinks were empty, and the inevitable fight back to the bar loomed. I scanned my immediate surroundings and couldn’t see my aide from earlier but did notice a waitress weaving through the crowd wearing a Wild West gun belt slung with bottles of tequila. I caught her eye as she poured some shots for a group of eager student-types, and indicated that we should be next.
‘Naked tequila it is,’ I said to Scarlet as the waitress finally approached.
She was a tiny slip of a girl, who looked weighed down by the bottles. She also had an enviable pair of legs poking out of a pair of crotch-skimming hot pants. ‘How many?’ she asked.
‘Two please,’ I replied, grabbing more money in the process.
‘Authentic or gold?’
I looked at Scarlet for guidance, who merely shrugged in reply.
‘It’ll have to be gold, I guess,’ I said uncertainly, handing over the cash.
‘Okay, gold it is.’ She grabbed two plastic shot glasses from a pouch on her left hip and, in a well-practised move, held them in one hand while deftly pouring with the other. She passed me the two shots, before spiriting a small tub from another hidden pouch containing a neat pile of lemon slices and a small salt cellar.
Scarlet immediately responded, ‘No salt and lemon for me, ruins the taste,’ so I waved away the waitress’s citrus offerings.
A closer look at the shots revealed tiny flecks of gold leaf floating in the clear liquid, which reflected a rainbow of colours from the neon sign above us. I was mesmerised, watching the light twirl and dance, before Scarlet clinked her shot to mine and said, ‘Bottoms up!’
The shot went down smoothly, then kicked back with fire as heat floated through me.
‘Wow,’ Scarlet said with a slight croak to her voice. ‘What’s next?’
The waitress had only just turned away from us before I was calling her back and ordering two more. This time she suggested we try it the ‘authentic Mexican way’, with a shot of hot sauce mixed with pomegranate as a chaser. I wasn’t convinced this was entirely authentic, but Scarlet was well up for the experiment. Before I knew it, the waitress had shoved two shot glasses in my hand – one with the unmistakable smell of tequila filtering from it; the other containing a thick, alarmingly fuchsia liquid. With some trepidation, I knocked back the tequila and swiftly followed it with the chaser, which washed away the sting of the alcohol and left a sweet, but spicy and very pleasant taste behind.
‘Now that I like!’ I pronounced.
It was only once the waitress had weaved back through the crowd that I realised that in my haze of tequila excitement, I had forgotten to ask her about the downstairs bar.
*
An hour later and the evening had turned fuzzy around the edges. We had managed to worm our way through the crowd closer to the bar and had secured one barstool at the edge. Scarlet was happy to stand, one stylish foot propped on the bar rest, another cocktail cocked at the ready. I positioned myself on the stool with my back to the bar, while Scarlet looked over my shoulder and pointed out the interesting patrons.
I ordered a couple of packets of crisps and a bowl of peanuts, and we settled into the people-watching, concocting stories about the couples around us. Mid-sentence, I felt a tap on my shoulder and saw Scarlet raise an enquiring eyebrow.
I turned to find my drink-saviour from earlier smiling down on me.
‘Hey there,’ he offered.
‘Hi,’ I said with too much enthusiasm.
‘I see you’re in prime ordering location now, very handy,’ he replied, indicating my barstool.
‘I am indeed. Need a round?’
‘That’s okay, it’s not as full up here now.’ I looked around and noticed that the crowd was thinning. ‘Everyone’s heading downstairs, you coming?’
‘My friend and I were talking about that before and wondering what goes on down there.’
‘It’s a basement dance club, a lot of salsa, a smattering of blues… It’s a laugh. You should come down. Free entry until 11 p.m., but then you have to pay a cover charge, so best be quick.’
I looked at my watch and saw it was already 22:50.
‘See you down there,’ he said as he headed for the stairs.
I followed him with my eyes.
‘So, a basement dance club. Fancy it?’ I said to Scarlet.
‘Do I ever! Let’s cut some shapes, baby!’ She grabbed my arm and propelled me towards the stairs.
It was all I could do to concentrate on not tipping forward on my heels with alcoholic vertigo down the dark, steep staircase. They weren’t kidding about basement. It felt like we were descending into the depths of hell – the bass beat vibrated through our toes, neon fluorescence reflected off black walls ominously decorated with Day of the Dead skulls adorned with pink hair bows and smoking cigarettes. The air got heavier and thicker the lower we went. I pushed against a heavy black door at the bottom and burst into a kaleidoscope of colour and activity. The small room was crammed with writhing bodies, all bouncing to a salsa beat; our ears were immediately assaulted by laughter, shouting and merriment; and the smell of sweat and alcohol was intoxicating. I turned to look at Scarlet, beaming, and shouted, ‘Perfect!’
We muscled further in and I noticed a small DJ deck set up in the corner, with a dreadlocked man spinning discs. We hovered in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in. The walls were pitted with crevices holding booths with miniature disco balls above each one that reflected neon shards of light off the dark walls. Garlands of illuminated flowers and chilli peppers were strung across the ceiling, and on the far wall, a tiny bar was a hive of activity as people flashed money, knocked back shots and gesticulated loudly to the one waiter on duty. The wall behind him was shelved with what looked to be an infinite amount of different tequila bottles; that seemed to be the only thing on offer down here. I nudged Scarlet and indicated I was heading that way.
Bank card in hand, I attracted the overworked barman’s attention, set up a tab and got down to the business of sampling what was on offer. Another shot down and Scarlet and I were tearing up the dance floor. The eclectic music moved from salsa to blues to pop classics to club. It was exhilarating. I spotted my new friend across the room and he acknowledged me with a raised shot and a wink before he got down to the serious business of gyrating against a young blonde in a tight vest. Surprisingly, my heart fell, but then the song changed and an eighties classic began to play and my disappointment was immediately forgotten. Before long, sweat pearled my brow as the tequila loosened my limbs. The balls of my feet ached in my shoes, but I was in my own world, swirling to the beat.
We took a change in the tempo of the music to look for a booth. As luck would have it, a group slid into their jackets just as we were scouting around, so we manoeuvred into their vacated seats and spread ourselves out.
‘This place is wild!’ I shouted at Scarlet, grinning infectiously. My ears buzzed – from the music or tequila I wasn’t sure – and my heart was pounding in my chest. We’d been in the booth all of five minutes before a man sidled in next to me.
‘Hey,’ he said, pressing close up to my side. I moved over. ‘I’ve noticed you hanging out. Having a good time?’
Scarlet watched with narrowed eyes from across the table. I took in his interested face, with a thick hipster beard obsc
uring most of it and making his expression difficult to read. His lips were thin and dry amongst the facial hair.
‘Yeah, we’re having a good time. You?’
‘Yeah, I am.’ His voice was heavy with hidden meaning.
I longed for another drink, just to give myself something to do to avoid his intense stare.
He leaned into my ear unnecessarily. ‘You wanna go get some air?’
‘Not really, I’m okay here, thanks.’ I shifted over again and was now trapped into the corner of the booth.
‘I was watching you dance – looks like you know how to move.’
Fingers of creepiness tickled the back of my neck and I concentrated hard on not grimacing in disgust.
‘Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not my type. I hate to think what’s lurking in that beard, for a start.’ I could see Scarlet sniggering across the table. ‘So how about you move on and leave us to our drinks.’ My pulse was racing in my neck.
He narrowed his eyes, went to reply, then changed his mind and shrugged out of the booth without looking back.
Scarlet laughed out loud. ‘Jesus! Persistent or what? Loved your beard comment!’
‘I only seem to come up with these things when I’m with you! God, I need another drink.’ I waved over a hovering waitress and ordered another round.
Once the drinks had arrived, I took hold of the glass and brought it to my lips. The acrid smell of alcohol hit my nostrils and I felt my stomach heave unpleasantly. I quickly slammed the drink back on the table and took in a gulp of stale air.
‘Ugh, I feel sick.’
‘You ok? Go outside for five – it’s really stuffy in here. I’ll keep the booth.’
I went to grab my bag from under the table and felt the handle catch on the heel of my shoe. Leaning over, I could see my personal detritus spilling onto the dirty floor – lipstick, used tissues, a lone tampon. I quickly gathered together as much as I could see before the nausea returned, then abandoned the bag on the table and staggered out none too gracefully towards a door marked ‘Toilets’ in the far corner of the room. It led to a long, narrow corridor winding past a now-dormant kitchen and two non-descript doors. Choosing the New Orleans-style image I thought looked most like a woman, although was very much open to interpretation, I pushed through into a dark cave of a bathroom. I rushed into the cubicle and closed the door behind me. Kneeling on the cold tiles, I waited to see if anything would come up, but the nausea had passed.
