by Lee, Mandy
Three hours later, after a meal in a Greek restaurant and an unknown quantity of ouzo, we’re staggering through the streets of Soho. Oblivious to the fact that my world’s already swaying and I need a little rest, Lucy keeps going while I grab hold of a lamp-post and steady myself. I hear a cough, and follow its direction, peering down a set of steps at a man in an open doorway.
‘Coming in?’ he asks, lighting up a cigarette.
‘What is it?’
‘Don’t you know?’
‘Well, no.’
Seeing as there’s no sign and I’m not telepathic, I could really do with some sort of clue. He moves aside, letting in a couple.
‘Kink,’ he says.
‘No thank you,’ Lucy answers for me, back by my side. ‘She’s had quite enough of that.’
But I’m already hooked.
‘We could give it a try,’ I suggest.
She shakes her head.
‘Let’s do this the usual way.’ Taking hold of my arm, she drags me further along the road. ‘Dancing. Booze. Maybe a snog. I don’t fancy being manacled to a wall and fucked by a geek in a gimp mask.’
A few more unsteady steps and we arrive at The Mill. Heading straight to the front of the queue, Lucy gives our names, and we’re waved in. We drop off our coats and make our way into the main atrium, coming to a joint halt, stunned by the space around us.
‘Fucking hell,’ Lucy squeals. ‘Why haven’t we been here before?’
To be honest, I have no idea. It’s amazing, like some sort of modern cathedral, a showcase of architectural wizardry, illuminated by a kaleidoscope of colour. Crafted in steel and marble and black glass, it’s sleek, industrial … beautiful. Girders twist above my head, forming a vast, imposing dome, while half way up, a gallery circles the room, lined with silver arches. At the far end of a packed dance floor, a steel platform apparently hovers in mid-air: a futuristic pulpit, the DJ’s station. Finally, I lower my gaze to the bars, and then a labyrinth of seating areas in front of me
‘Wow!’
Lucy drags me into the throng of sweaty bodies, ordering me to stay next to a podium while she wanders off in search of champagne. Feeling distinctly woozy, I do as I’m told. Loud thumping dance music fills my head, the bassline of something I don’t recognise reverberating right through my body. I gaze out over the dance floor. Bathed in a storm of flashing light, shapes intertwine and merge until I’m not sure what I’m seeing.
A hand slips around my waist. Instinctively, I withdraw and find Gordon standing next to me.
‘Hey,’ he smiles. ‘You made it.’
‘So I did,’ I smile back. ‘How did you find us in here?’
‘Saw you come in.’ He nods upwards. ‘I’ve got a pod.’
And razor sharp vision, to boot.
‘Really? Can you take medicine for that?’
He laughs.
‘Oh, that British sense of humour. Gets me every time. No.’ He puts an end to the laugh, a hand on my arm and points up at the gallery. ‘A pod. Up there. Come and meet my friends.’
‘In a while.’ I retreat from his touch. ‘I’ll probably dance first.’
Or shuffle about in a daze. Or worse than that, go completely mad and fling myself around like a whirling dervish on acid.
‘I’ll leave you to it then. It’s the VIP area. Join us when you’re ready.’
As soon as he’s gone, Lucy appears out of the gloom, wielding two glasses of champagne.
‘It’s free, remember!’ she shouts. ‘Get it down you.’
Slugging back her champagne, she eyes the room, in search of more. She’s certainly on a mission to get wasted tonight, and why should I stop her? There’s no point in trying to keep Lucy on a tight leash. If Dan’s moved on, then in all likelihood, so has Clive.
Don’t believe it.
The words spring out of nowhere, returning to taunt me, doing their level best to make me feel like a wavering idiot. But they fail. Instead, I’m angry. Seriously angry. With Dan for his lack of communication. With Boyd for fucking up my life. But most of all, with myself for sitting on a crappy see-saw of trust and doubt.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Lucy demands, wafting her empty glass at me.
‘Gordon’s here,’ I reply quickly. I’m not about to give up the truth. ‘He’s got a pod.’
‘Looks like you’ve found your ride then.’
‘I am not riding him,’ I shout.
‘So, which one would you ride?’ she asks. ‘How about him?’ She nods towards the bar. ‘Bloke in the pink shirt.’
I follow the direction of her gaze, spotting a flash of pink.
‘Not for me.’
‘Okay,’ she shouts. ‘Pick a man, then. Any man. Which one would you shag?’
None of them, I’d like to answer. But I’ll go along with Lucy’s game. I scour the room, squinting through the gloom and finding nothing. My attention wanders back to the nearest bar. One after another, faces appear out of the shadows, and disappear again. Dark meshes with light. Shadows move and collide. And then, like a flare over No Man’s Land, a blinding flash illuminates the scene. It lasts for no more than a couple of seconds before we’re plunged back into darkness. But it’s enough. I blink, not entirely sure of what I’ve just seen. It can’t be. Out of a sea of faces, one in particular, so achingly familiar. My entire body sparks into life. I focus on the spot and wait for the next flash. It’s not long in coming … and my suspicions are confirmed.
Dan.
He’s here.
Finally making contact.
In an instant, everything malfunctions: brain, heart, lungs, stomach. With my legs threatening to give way beneath me, I begin to move.
‘Where are you going?’ Lucy asks.
‘Nowhere. Stay here. I’ll be back.’
Still clutching my glass, I weave an unsteady path through the crowd, homing in on my target. A strange concoction of fear and excitement floods through me. On top of the alcohol, it’s a potent mix. I’m breathing quickly now, and the shakes are back. At last, he’s right in front of me, seemingly unaware of my presence. Dressed in black jeans and a white shirt, open at the collar, he’s leaning back against the bar, gazing up at the dome, looking ridiculously delicious. He turns to the woman next to him. She’s slim, petite, wearing a short black dress, and she’s facing away from me, but I know exactly who she is: the woman from the magazine. He places a hand at the base of her spine, leans over to whisper in her ear.
She laughs, and I freeze.
I have just enough time to realise I’m in shock when the anger surges back at full force. Without another thought, I close the space between us and tap him on the shoulder. He pivots quickly. I have no idea what sort of reaction I expected, but what I get needles me in the gut. There’s no surprise on his part, and no warmth either.
‘What the fuck’s going on?’ I seethe.
He studies me for a moment, cold and detached.
‘I’m enjoying an evening out.’
Well, what a coincidence. He’s enjoying an evening out in exactly the same nightclub as me … with another woman.
‘You fixed this up.’
He narrows his eyes.
‘Lucy’s invitation here tonight,’ I press on. ‘You fixed this up.’
I catch the beginnings of a sneer.
‘I have no idea what you’re going on about.’
‘Gordon.’
‘Who?’
‘Of course,’ I laugh, realising he doesn’t need anyone to tell him where I am. ‘My phone. You’re still tracking it.’ I bite my lip. Tomorrow, I’ll go out and get a new mobile. New number. Everything.
‘This is because of yesterday.’
He stares at me, giving nothing away.
‘You made yourself perfectly clear,’ I tell him. ‘There’s no need for this. No need to go parading your latest piece of skirt in front of me.’
And that does it. The latest piece of skirt moves in close, staking her claim on Dan.
‘Nothing.’ He raises a hand. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘And who’s this?’ I demand.
‘None of your business.’ His eyes harden.
‘Oh, it is my business,’ I laugh. ‘You and me, we never came to an end, Dan. Not officially. You owe me an explanation. So, what’s going on?’
‘What does it look like?’
‘You told me to wait.’
He grimaces, clearly irritated.
‘Things can change.’
‘Oh, I get it. Every day’s a new beginning.’
‘It’s over. Face it and move on.’
Out of nowhere, a burly creature appears at Dan’s side.
‘Is she bothering you?’ Beefy asks.
‘Yes.’
‘Want me to sort it?’
He nods and turns away. Grabbing hold of his shirt, I force him back to face me.
‘Do you really mean that?’ I demand.
Without a flicker of emotion, he doesn’t reply.
‘You …’
‘What?’ he snaps. ‘If you can’t deal with it, get out of here.’
It’s an automatic reaction. I throw my champagne in his face. He baulks, stares at me in surprise, and then nods at Beefy. Out of the corner of my eye I know there’s another burly creature behind him now, nightclub security.
‘Miss, you need to leave.’
‘I’m not leaving. It’s a free fucking country. Pig,’ I sneer at Dan. ‘You told me to wait for you.’
‘You’re deluded.’
‘Deluded? I did exactly what you told me to do … and this is how I get treated?’
We glare at each other for a good few seconds. I watch his eyes carefully, unsure of what I’m seeing. Is that hatred? Regret? Or is it pain? An apology? It’s hard to tell, what with the flashing lights obscuring the truth. When he eventually speaks, the words push me completely off balance.
‘Fuck off, Maya.’
The next breath nudges its way from my lungs, inch by inch, emerging in short, sharp spurts. I stare at his mouth. No way did it just say that. The bastard deserves a slap, and I give him one, good and hard across the cheek. He barely reacts.
‘You’ll need your necklace back then.’
‘Keep it. It’s nothing to me.’ He speaks to his companion now. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ Grabbing her arm, he practically drags her towards the exit.
Temporarily paralysed by rage and disbelief, I watch them go. If anyone’s deluded around here, it’s Dan. No one talks to me like that and gets away with it. I glance up at the dome, realising that I am in a cathedral, a massive, overblown shrine to shallowness and self-obsession, where fatuous arses come to worship themselves.
‘Fucking idiot,’ I mutter, deciding that the biggest arse of all is about to get his come-uppance.
Erupting into action, I march towards the exit, following Dan’s path and catching up with him outside where he’s waiting by the kerb, a protective arm around the bitch brunette. As soon as he sees me, his face breaks into irritation.
‘What’s happened to you?’ I shout, approaching him, half conscious of the fact that there’s still a queue for the club, and I’m about to provide some free entertainment. ‘Where’s the Dan I know?’
‘Gone.’
‘Why?’
Letting go of the tart, he wheels round.
‘Because I came to my senses,’ he snarls. ‘Because I realised you went too far.’
‘I contacted your sister. You forgave me for that.’ I jab my finger at his face. He grabs hold of my wrist and pulls me in close.
‘The first time, yes. But then you went and spoke to her again.’
‘You asked me to.’
‘I didn’t ask you to fill her head with nonsense.’
‘What?’
‘You told her this was all a sham.’
My mouth opens.
‘Did you think I wouldn’t find out?’ He pulls back. ‘You’ve been rumbled. She wrote to me, told me everything about your little visit to Limmingham. Apparently, you and me are getting back together.’
He waits for my response, but all I can do is flounder, unable to believe what I’m seeing, what I’m hearing.
‘I … I told her that in confidence.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t have. She can’t keep a confidence, especially one as misguided and fucked up as that.’
‘Fucked up?’ Tears cloud my eyes. ‘You promised me …’
‘It’s amazing what you’ll say when you’re high on morphine. You should have got the message by now, Maya. We’re through.’
I hear the words, and they confirm everything. The ground gives way beneath my feet, threatening to suck me into the darkness. But I’m not going easily. The grip on my arm tightens, firing me up into a fury.
‘And you didn’t have the balls to tell me?’ I demand, glaring at him.
‘I’ve got the balls to do anything, but I’m not stupid. No contact. Not even for that. I’ll protect the people I care about. But you? You fucked up once too often. I’m done with you.’
Almost as soon as I’m released, a chunky set of fingers close around my arm.
‘Miss, you need to leave.’
Obviously terrified of what I might do next, Beefy’s startled, bird-like eyes are fixed on me.
‘Fuck off, Beefy. I’ve got as much right to be here as him.’
I struggle, only to find I’m held tight in a grip that’s certainly vice-like but curiously gentle. I look at Beefy’s hand, and then at Dan. The expression on his face says it all. He’s disgusted by my behaviour. But I just don’t care. Dismissing him, I inspect his latest conquest, a self-satisfied cat that’s clearly had the cream. It’s enough to light a fuse, and I’m not surprised when I turn back to Dan and hear myself shout.
‘Do you know what you are? An arrogant, fucked-up shit! The biggest fucked- up shit to walk this planet since … I don’t know when. A manipulative, lying, selfish bastard! That’s what you are!’ There. That should do it. I’ve set the record well and truly straight. And now I address the queue. ‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ Steadied by Beefy’s hand, I wave a hand at Dan. ‘I give you Daniel Foster. A man with a big cock and a massive bank balance. Handsome, isn’t he? But, ladies, don’t let that fool you. Keep your distance, because this,’ I point an accusing finger at him, ‘is one huge fuck-up of a disaster zone!’
‘You’re making a fool of yourself.’
I’m halted in my tracks by the creamed-up feline. How dare she dump her ridiculous opinion on me?
‘And you’d better be careful,’ I tell her. ‘Don’t believe a fucking word he says. He’ll tell you he loves you, he’ll tell you he needs you, he’ll tell you you’re the best thing since sliced bread, and then he’ll dump you. Good fucking luck!’
The grip on my arm tightens a little.
‘Come away,’ Beefy urges me.
‘Leave her,’ Dan orders. ‘The job’s done. We’re going.’
A black limousine draws up at the kerb. He opens the back door quickly and motions for Little Miss Smug to get in. She complies. Stunned, I watch as without another word, Dan joins her and slams the door, disappearing behind darkened glass. Finally releasing me, Beefy installs himself in the front passenger seat and the car pulls away.
An icy wind whips at me. I shiver, focus my attention back at the queue and register a row of faces, all fixed on me, none of them offering sympathy. I’m about to tell the whole lot of them to fuck off when Lucy appears at my side.
‘What was that all about?’ she asks. ‘What was he doing here?’
‘Giving me proof,’ I grumble. ‘As if I needed it.’
I check the faces surrounding me. Suddenly, I’m not so sure I’m being shadowed any more. After all, if the man hates me that much, then why would he have
me protected? And suddenly, fuelled by alcohol and disgust, I really don’t care. If Boyd’s out there waiting for me, he can have me. In full-on self-destruct mode, I retreat inside the club and head straight to the cloakroom. Lucy follows close behind, making a call on her mobile as I shrug on my coat, still shadowing me as I stomp back outside.
‘Leave me alone, Luce,’ I shout, launching into a brisk march.
‘No way,’ she pants, struggling to keep up. ‘You’re drunk and you’re angry.’
‘No shit!’ I whirl round on the spot. ‘And do you know what? I don’t want anything anyone’s got to offer in that shit-hole.’ I point back to the club. ‘I’m going somewhere else.’
‘Where?’
‘Mind your own sodding business. Go back to the cattle market.’
I don’t have to stagger far to find what I want. Within seconds, I’m heading down a set of steps. The man’s still there, standing in the doorway, smoking yet another cigarette.
‘I thought you’d be back.’ He moves to one side.
‘Maya, what are you doing?’ I falter at the sound of Lucy’s voice.
‘What does it look like?’
‘If you go in there, you’ll get pissed on.’
‘Well,’ I laugh, ‘I’ve already been shat on. What difference is it going to make?’
I disappear into the shadows, edging my way through a gloomy corridor that leads to a bar. Surveying the room, I’m surprised to find it’s not a dungeon, and I’m not surrounded by sweaty naked bodies, and I haven’t heard a single groan. In fact, it’s just a normal bar, filled with seemingly normal people, doing what normal people do in bars, drinking and talking. And they’re all fully clothed, not a gag or a flogger in sight. A wave of drunken disappointment washes through me. The doorman must have been stringing me along with all his talk of kink. I head for the counter, propping myself up next to a tallish, blond-haired man. He greets me with a blue-eyed smile, and yet again I’m thinking of Dan.
