by Orla Bailey
Let him return to Amanda tonight. If he’s going to be done with me by Monday, I’m done with him already. Desolation sinks into my bones drowning me slowly and painfully in its sea of despair. I had a short bitter-sweet breath of respite from anguish but I can no longer struggle to keep swimming towards the surface.
The car is in gear and rolling forward. I turn it round in one sweeping arc through the opaque film of tears in my eyes, flip on the headlights and take off down the road fast, towards the farm. As I drive I know exactly where I’m heading. Jack has had his fun with me already and it’s my turn now. It seems I’m going nightclubbing with Laurent and the boys in La Baule, after all.
Jack Keogh is a monster.
The farm cottages are mostly in darkness so I drive straight past them. Everyone will have left already but I know the roads here well. In twenty minutes I’ll be right beside them and I know how hard young farmers can party. It’s exactly what I need. To hell with Jack and Amanda. I’m glad my dress is short. And backless. And fits me tight as a glove. I’m glad to be free and single. Tonight I’m going to get very drunk. Tonight I’m going to get a life. And more.
I park up near the esplanade and walk straight to La Nova. Already I attract male attention with my bare legs on show but I’m glad. It’s only when I get to the entrance by the red carpet and the potted topiary shrubs that I realise I have no money. I didn’t even pause long enough to grab a bag. But I’m not going to let that stop me. If I can find Laurent and the others, they will see me right.
I start to explain my predicament to the two huge guys on door security. They smirk at me like they’ve heard it all before.
“Yeah, we let you in to find your friends and you disappear. Not buying it.” The local dialect is fast but I follow it well enough.
His colleague is more biddable. “She’s a babe. She’ll pull the guys in.”
I’m both flattered and insulted but I smile sweetly up at him, knowing the way to get what I want. He’s my best chance of getting through that door.
“Still trying your luck and everyone else’s patience?”
I freeze. I know that voice. A waft of something dry and familiar catches in the back of my throat as I slowly turn. I squeal. “Luc!”
He looks up unhurriedly from lighting a cigarette between his hands and gives me that same sultry predator’s smile that curled my toes when I was a teenager. He was the only boy Madame kept me as far away from as possible. At all times.
Leaning back against the wall he has one leg bent up behind him, so his biker-booted foot rests flush against it. Dressed in a black leather biker jacket with its collar turned up over an Arab scarf wound around his neck, he has belted drainpipe jeans slung low over narrow hips. He’s what everyone would imagine if they thought about crossing a darkly sexual, French male model with a rebel-without-a-cause.
Luc stares me up and down, unblinking, as if he’s planning to rip my knickers off with his teeth at the first opportunity. A frisson of fear shivers up my spine. But he’s exactly what I need right now.
I skip over to him, lean in and kiss him on both cheeks. He turns hooded eyes on me.
“Have you come to dance with me, Cherie?” He says the word like he means something else.
I ignore his insinuation. “I forgot to bring money and they won’t let me in.”
He laughs low. “Then you are with me tonight, I think.”
What he says makes me think instantly of Jack. I shove the thought violently out of my head. Jack is with Amanda. It spurs me on to greater recklessness. I know Luc is a dangerous man. He was a dangerous teen, always existing on the edge of life. But what I need is to revenge myself on Jack’s faithlessness and consume my wounded heart with a deeper, darker passion.
Am I being fair? I don’t care. Is Jack being fair to me?
“Tonight I want to dance.” I pronounce the word exactly as Luc does and his eyes flare minutely before they settle again into accustomed indifference. “And I want to drink too. Lots. I’ll cost you a fortune.”
I flirt outrageously smoothing what there is of my skirt down over my hips to outline their feminine shape. I toy with my long hair. This demonstration of mine isn’t innocent. Luc doesn’t understand that kind of amusement, like Laurent and the boys from the farm do. Luc is serious and sexy. Luc is trouble. But I don’t care.
“You will be worth it, I think, Cherie.” He looks me over, shifting himself minutely.
I ignore another insinuation but can’t help picturing a wolf in wolf’s clothing.
He takes one last long draw on his cigarette, inhales the smoke deep into his lungs and exhales in such a leisurely manner I expect him to choke any minute. He doesn’t. I’m enveloped in that recognisable odour which catches in my throat again. The dark, pungent depths of Middle Eastern tobacco. And reckless endangerment.
He pushes off the wall with his foot and stands close, staring down at me. I feel the intensity burn off him. He grabs my hand and pivots towards the entrance of the nightclub.
I see the way the security guards view him. It’s that moment of recognition between males that acknowledges a conquest and I feel my first real twinge of awkward concern but I’m inside. I’ll find the farm boys soon enough and they’ll look after me.
“I need a drink, Luc.” I really need a drink.
He takes me with him to the nearest bar, keeping a tight hold of my hand. He knows enough not to let a woman out of his sight, I think. The place is packed and heaving with people dancing and drinking. It’s a popular place with locals but the tourist trade is alive at this time of year too.
Luc shouts over the throng and his manner with the bartender is one of long acquaintance. He’s served straight away. When he turns to me he has two squat glasses in his hands.
“What is it?” I whisper, leaning close enough to be heard over the pulsating music. He hooks his arm around my neck and ducks his head against mine. With my cheek against his, I feel the rasp of roughly shaven skin.
“Cognac Sour.” He throws the content of his own glass down his throat in one go and gives me a hand signal to drink up too.
I take a sip. It’s strong. He removes the glass from my hand and holds it to my lips himself. “In one,” he says. He pulls my hair gently back until my head tilts, and pours it straight down my throat.
I can’t do much but swallow. I cough wiping my lips with the back of my hand. He laughs at me. “Good?”
I nod. He turns and motions to the barman to fix the same again. I’m so sure they must be doubles that I watch them being poured and I’m right. The first one is already beginning to hit the spot by the time he hands me the second. I take it. He takes my free hand and draws me after him to a nearby area with an arrangement of low leather sofas around a lamp lit table.
I recognise some of the people sitting.
“Tabeetha, bonsoir.”
My eyes sweep round and I spot Laurent with relief. He stands and leans towards me and we embrace.
“Bonsoir, Laurent.”
“You came.”
I nod. He looks past me and when he sees Luc his brow wrinkles in a quizzical manner. He knows Luc very well. I shrug to show him I’m unconcerned.
“You don’t come with Jack?” Laurent asks.
“Busy. Working.” It’s hard to speak over the noise. Besides I didn’t come here to talk about Jack. I came here to forget him.
Laurent stares at me. He saw me cross the fields with Jack earlier today. He saw Jack hold me tight beside him. He knows there is more to our relationship. He gives a fatalistic twitch of his chin, glances suspiciously at Luc and sits again.
Luc leans in and whispers to a couple of other guys already seated. They chuckle at him and leer across at me before getting slowly to their feet and stalking off, one slapping Luc on the back as he passes.
“What did you say to them?” I ask, as he pulls me into the space behind him. He sits himself between me and Laurent, I notice.
“That you will pass out
if I don’t lay you... down.”
I look at him in mock horror and he laughs. I eventually smirk back, swat him on the arm and slide into the vacant seat beside him. He shifts closer. His ability to joke doesn’t entirely convince me Luc didn’t say exactly that.
“Drink up. You wanted to drink, no?”
I did. I do. I take another sip.
Luc looks at me as if to tell me that is a pathetic way to drink. I show him I’m game for anything and down my second in one go. Before I have a chance to wipe the drops from my lips he leans over and takes my mouth with his. His tongue travels across my lips to lap up the excess.
I gasp. He’s moving pretty fast, I think. I push him firmly backwards and I’m relieved to find he goes without a fight.
The guys that gave up their seat to me return with another round of drinks. They include Cognac Sours for me and Luc. He must have asked them to fetch drinks for us as well.
We sit and talk and sip our drinks for a time. I follow the conversations as best as I can. I’m happy to see Laurent and some of the farmers with their girls. Luc chats too. He’s very attentive and hands me my drink often. One of his arms is stretched out behind me on the sofa and he plays with my hair or gently caresses my neck. His other hand rests casually on my thigh but after a while I hardly notice it.
I feel happier as time passes and lose count of the number of glasses that are brought to the table. Drinking hard is just something young farmers do to unwind.
“I want to dance,” I say.
Luc nods his agreement then holds up his drink. “Get rid of this first.”
I wait while he takes a tiny sip and travels his tongue around his lips suggestively. He holds his own glass to my lips and encourages me to drink it. I just do. One more won’t do any harm. He keeps it tilted until I’ve finished it all.
How many is that, I wonder? Doubles. Better slow down. Yet I feel carefree and twenty-two again. I haven’t felt like that in a while.
“You want to dance?”
My hesitation is only momentary. “Yes, please.”
Luc burns his slow smile at me. “Then dance with me.”
He stands, holds out his hand and I take it so he can lead me from the booth. He walks me to the floor and I trail unsteadily in his wake. I look about me, to fix the position of Laurent and the others but already they’re lost behind the crowd.
Loud music pulsates through my body and I feel the heavy throb of amplifiers vibrating the sprung wooden floorboards beneath me. It matches the pounding beginning in my head and body. I’m warm and very, very light-headed.
I knew Luc would rock. He spins me out and pulls me into his body again and I laugh as I twirl. He isn’t too careful with me so I bump into people but he keeps a tight hold of my hand. This is nothing like dancing with Jack. With Jack I feel safe and in danger all at the same time. Here, there is only threat yet I don’t care. It deadens a worse pain.
I jerk to a halt when the room spins and Luc tugs me against him. He leans in to kiss my mouth but I turn my head aside. He stills for a moment, like he didn’t expect it, then gives a tight laugh before placing a virtuous kiss on my cheek.
“I ought to find Laurent,” I tell him.
His eyes constrict a moment before he relaxes. I kind of wish I hadn’t asked him to pay my way into the nightclub. If I can find Laurent, I’ll borrow the money and pay Luc straight back.
“Then we will find him.” He pulls me through the heaving crowd over to the bar.
“I don’t think he’s here.” I know he isn’t. I try to keep walking forward but Luc has my wrist held tightly.
“We’ll just get another drink and then we’ll search.”
I don’t want to make a scene. I’d rather drink with Laurent and the boys but it seems so ungrateful to abandon Luc now. He’s just being friendly. He helped me out.
“Okay. Just one more though.”
“Of course.”
He orders more Cognac Sours. They come in tall glasses this time with a little ice. He hands me one and holds his glass up to chink against mine.
“Santé.” He wishes me good health.
I’m foolish to fret. I’m surrounded by lots of people and Laurent will make sure I get home in one piece when I eventually find him. “Santé.”
I think of home. I can’t go back to Lassec now. Jack has spoiled even that for me. I recall how angry I felt when I heard him tell Amanda I was some little problem he’d come to sort out. I remind myself I came out to enjoy myself for once and I will.
I drink.
“All of it, Cherie.”
What the hell. I throw it back. The warmth creeps down inside me until I don’t feel so bothered by everything. I hold up my empty glass in triumph. He grins at me and winks. I see the way girls look at him. He’s very handsome.
Luc takes my glass. All that’s left is the crushed ice settling in the bottom and melting slowly. I’m melting slowly too. I find Luc’s full glass in my hand and mine in his. Even at my worst I’ve never drunk so much so fast and feel a little strange but not entirely bothered. It’s good being out. I haven’t partied like the world revolved around me for ages.
My concerns disappear as fast as the new drink in my hand. Have I finished that one too? Luc takes the empty glass away and feeds me another. He leads me back onto the dance floor. If he wants to dance, well that’s what we came to do.
The room revolves, or I do. Luc supports my body against his, close up behind me and the floor moves as his body undulates repeatedly against mine. His arms trap me close inside them and his hands move up and down all over my body, seeking out uncovered skin wherever he can find it. I can’t seem to speak. Or to think.
My throat suddenly goes dry but my body turns chill and moist. The Sirocco.
“Take your fucking hands off her.”
As my neck loosely swirls around, I imagine I see Jack but he’s out of focus. He’s furious and shouting although it sounds like it’s coming from a long distance. People step back. I look down to see Luc’s hand splayed across my lower abdomen, pressing me back into his groin. Jack won’t like that, I think. I giggle. I’m somewhere far away watching what is happening to me.
“Piss off. We’re dancing.” Luc grinds his body so hard into mine, my knees bend. My hips thrust forward under his. Jack won’t be happy with that either, I think.
“I told you to take – your – fucking – hands – off her!”
Why is Jack shouting? The music pulses, the floor vibrates. The crowd surges. I’m moving and not under my own steam. Jack tugs me towards him but Luc is not letting go. I’m being torn in two. It’s so hysterical I snigger.
Jack glares at me and tightens his grip. I watch him as if I’m someone else. What strikes me as even funnier is thinking he’s come to sort out his problem. I laugh out loud. Voices elevate around me. Jack and Luc shout bad things at each other. I had no idea they knew one another. The air is thick with testosterone. I hear lots of bad language in English and even more profanities in French. I can’t be the only one laughing at this multi-lingual joke-fest.
“Get your own woman to dance with.” Luc lays claim. “She’s dancing with me.”
I open my mouth to mention the fact that Jack’s dancing with Amanda but shut it when Jack turns his fierce expression on me. This is not the first time my hallucination ever did that.
“No she isn’t. This is the last time I’m asking nicely. Let her go, or you’re a dead man.” Jack isn’t shouting now. He’s horribly quiet.
There’s going to be a fight. I hate fighting. I step back, stumble and Jack makes a grab for me. I find that funny too and snort. Jack’s hands are about my waist and I’m relocated like I’ve had my molecules transported. I find myself staggering about behind him. Where is Luc? His hands have gone. He squares up to Jack. I can’t see properly as Jack’s bulk is between me and Luc.
“You want to fuck her?” Luc speaks. His tone isn’t friendly. “Look around my friend then join the queue.”
Everything happens in slow motion. I hear the crack of bone on bone and a dull thud as someone falls. Is it me? I seem to be on the floor anyway. I look up. Jack reaches down but I slap his hand away. I don’t want to be his problem anymore. His mess to clear up.
Although I seem to find being a messy problem funny for some reason.
I stumble to my feet not entirely under my own steam. “Get off me. I can walk by myself.” It’s not true. I can’t walk. I find myself sailing through the air sniggering. When I see Laurent I call out his name. One of us is upside down. I stretch my hands out towards him. “Where were you, Laurent?”
Jack hisses at him. “Yeah. Where the fuck were you?”
“I phoned you, no?” Laurent hangs back.
He is very wise to. Jack is snarling like a pit bull.
“Don’t worry,” I call. “I’m his problem now.” I find this so hilarious I can hardly breathe for laughing.
I feel myself heaved upwards and fall heavily against something that is hard and moving fast. The whole room moves too. I pass lots of people. Why are they all looking at me? I wave to them. How can I pass them when I’m not walking anywhere?
I recognise the door security men. “Didn’t disappear,” I tell them. I try to be serious but it’s not working. When it’s funny, it’s funny. They don’t think it’s funny. They scowl at me and shake their heads. The nice one holds a car door open for Jack and I’m dropped inside.
When the world turns itself right side up again that quickly it’s very disorientating. My head keeps right on spinning.
“Don’t throw up, it’s a hire car.” Jack’s voice, I think. “You’re a bloody nuisance, you know that.” He doesn’t sound too happy.
Where is Laurent? Where is Luc? Where am I?
I hear the car door slam and the engine start. I smell Clive Christian when Jack leans over me so I bite his earlobe but he shakes me off. The car moves. I move too. I remove my seat belt and start to climb out. I feel a sharp jerk as the car brakes violently. I wish he would make his mind up if he’s coming or going.