Carrie Goes Off the Map (17 page)

The frosty atmosphere between Rowena and Carrie didn't last long, and soon they were spilling out of a taxi in front of the Cabana, a garish club situated in a side street just off the seafront. There was no sign of Matt or Natasha, much to Carrie's relief. After bopping away until their throats were raw, Carrie went to the bar. She felt like the invisible woman, trying to catch the barman's attention among a load of blokes built like brick outhouses. Then she noticed the guy next to her was grinning.

Carrie didn't think he looked like an ax murderer so she smiled back. He was quite nice, in fact, with smiley eyes and spiky gelled hair like David Tennant. David Tennant on steroids, she thought; judging by his bulging biceps, he obviously worked out a lot.

‘I was just getting my friend a drink,' she said, seeing Rowena's blond head bobbing away on the dance floor.

‘Is that her? The tall, thin one in the yellow dress?'

‘Yes. How do you know?'

‘My mate Jake just bought her a drink.'

So, Rowena had worked fast. She smiled at the guy.

‘I'm Gav,' he said.

‘Carrie.'

The barman was asking her what she wanted. ‘What are you having?' she asked Gav, intending to buy the round.

Reaching in front of her, he slapped some notes on the bar. His arm was well muscled and very tanned.

‘A Corona, and sorry, but I'm old-fashioned. I believe a bloke should pay for a woman. Shall we go somewhere a bit quieter?' he said, flipping a thumb in the direction of some booths at the far side of the dance floor. ‘Ladies first,' he added, his hand on her back. It was slightly sweaty, but it was a warm night so she overlooked it.

As they sat in the booth, Gav's teeth and T-shirt glowed a curious blue-white in the strobe lights. Carrie slurped her drink nervously, trying not to be judgmental. He had very interesting hair, she told herself, and very firm biceps. As he picked up his beer bottle, she saw the thick gold ring on his little finger.

‘You're a fantastic dancer, and that top really suits you,' he said, his eyes traveling over her body appreciatively.

Hmm. Verging on the cheesy, but he seemed to be sincere so she smiled back. ‘Um. Thanks. Are you here on holiday?' He roared with laughter, as if she'd said the earth was flat. ‘Bloody hell, no. I'm a local, but I can tell you don't come from round here. You on holiday with your blond mate? Two girls out for a good time?' he said.

Carrie realized that there was no way he would possibly understand the Matt thing, so she said, ‘That's it.'

Gav shifted closer. ‘Well, you've chosen exactly the right place to come if you're looking for a good time, and exactly the right bloke to have it with.'

‘What do you do down here, Gav?' said Carrie, realizing she'd shuffled a few inches away from him.

Gav put down his drink and leaned towards her, filling her nostrils with a powerful waft of aftershave. He lowered his voice and said huskily, ‘Actually, Carrie, I'm a firefighter.'

He paused as if he expected her to gasp, so she blew out a little breath. ‘That's very impressive,' she said.

‘Most people seem to think so, but I don't tell many people, to be honest. You see, Carrie, the problem with my line of business is that some women get really horny when I tell them about it. The last girl I took home from a club turned up at the station crying while I was at work. She was begging me to take her to bed. Can you believe it?'

‘Not really,' mumbled Carrie into her drink.

‘The lads on my watch never let me hear the last of it.'

‘I'm sure they didn't,' she replied, suddenly catching sight of Matt and Natasha on the dance floor.

Gav carried on. ‘Do you know what they did? Stuck photos of me up all over the station with “Stud Muffin” plastered across them. Mind you, it's an occupational hazard in my job, attention from women. One whiff of that uniform and they're like putty in your hands. You know, you probably won't believe this—and I don't really like talking about it—but my last girlfriend had counseling after she split up with me. “Keely,” I said, “I know you're going to be devastated, but I need to be honest with you…”'

Carrie was nodding, hopefully in all the right places, not that her contribution to the conversation was required. Natasha and Matt were making their way towards the VIP booths, Matt with a beer in his hand and Natasha with a blue cocktail with an orange umbrella in it.

Gavin was still talking. ‘Did you know, I can carry a two-hundred-pound man for twenty meters?'

Natasha waved at Carrie and flashed a smile. Matt nodded but didn't smile. Gavin was still talking and had now virtually pinned her to the far end of the booth. Carrie was being gassed by Lynx fumes. ‘So, Carrie, my secret's out, but I hope you won't hold it against me. You're a mature woman. You know the score. You seem like you're up for a good time and I can show you one.'

Natasha and Matt were in the next booth. Carrie heard Natasha complaining, ‘My God, this place is totally unbelievable. The people are like something off a reality show. Urggh. What is that smell? Matt, darling, I'm going to have to perch on your knee. I can't sit on these seats.'

She couldn't hear Matt's reply, but it sounded like a growl so she guessed he was having as much fun as a day at the dentist. Carrie cringed as Gav continued to feed her more cheesy lines than a deli counter. She was going to drag him out for a dance when she suddenly found herself starved of oxygen as he dived on top of her. The combination of mouthwash and lager filled her senses.

‘Are you okay, baby? Or are you lost for words?' he said when they finally surfaced.

‘You could say that,' she mumbled, desperate to wipe her mouth. ‘Can I have another drink?'

‘What? Now?'

‘Yes. Please. I'll have one of those big blue cocktails,' she said.

‘Anything for you, babe.'

She heard Natasha snort.

‘And make sure you get me a pink parasol,' she called after him.

‘Matt, can you get me a tonic? God knows what's in this vile cocktail,' said Natasha.

As soon as he'd gone, Natasha leaned over the back of the booth. ‘So nice to see you enjoying yourself. You deserve a bit of happiness after Huw,' she said.

‘I'm only having a drink,' said Carrie.

‘Well, I think you've pulled, darling. That guy was practically hoovering you up. What is he? A bricklayer?'

‘A firefighter, actually,' said Carrie, thinking bad things about cocktail umbrellas and where she'd like to shove them. ‘He can carry a two-hundred-pound man twenty meters.'

‘How thrilling, darling. I enjoy the odd bit of rough myself. Is that Rowena?'

Rowena was snogging the bloke from the ice-cream van on the beach.

‘You girls do get about,' said Natasha.

‘We know how to have a good time,' said Carrie.

Matt came back. ‘Hello,' he said to her, with a face like thunder. Natasha immediately sidled onto his knee and wound her arms around his neck. His expression was impassive; his hands were on the seat. Carrie tried not to think of how much she wanted to sit on Matt's knee and snog him.

Gav arrived back and squashed Carrie against the end of the seat again. ‘Thanks for the drink, Gav. Mmm. These Blue Heaven cocktails are so delicious. And the parasol is so-o pretty. Mmm,' she declared.

‘The cocktails aren't the only thing that's delicious, baby, and I'm going to send you to Blue Heaven.'

There was a squeal of laughter from Natasha, but Carrie couldn't see because Gav was thrusting his tongue into her ear and growling, ‘You little wildcat.' Then he pounced on her again and clamped his mouth on hers. His hand was on her thigh, creeping up her skirt.

‘Gav, sorry, but I can't do this.'

‘Don't be silly, we've only just started getting to know each other.'

‘I'm going now,' she said in her best assertive mode. His eyes were hard and cold as she pulled his fingers off her thigh.

‘You're a bit of a prick tease, aren't you, Carrie?'

Her heart rate quickened. ‘No, actually, I'm not teasing. Thanks for the drink but I can see my friend over there.'

‘I told you, she's with my mate,' he said.

‘No. I don't think so. Look, she's waving at me.'

‘I don't think so, babe.' He crushed her against the seat, shoving his hand up her skirt again. She tried to push him off but he was strong. Her heart was pounding now and her mind whirling with a mix of fear and anger at her own stupidity. She relaxed, allowing Gav's fingers to slide up to the lace of her knickers.

‘That's better, baby. Just go with the flow. Let Gav do the driving,' he grunted.

As his hand slipped under the elastic of her pants, Carrie raised her knee ready to hit him where it hurt. It was then that she heard Matt's voice. He was standing in front of her with his arms folded, like a Victorian father crossed with a pro footballer.

‘Is this man bothering you?'

Carrie's heart sank. Bugger. Matt was going to play hero.

‘Matt, I can take care of myself.'

‘Really? Because it looked to me like he was bothering you.'

Gav sneered. ‘The lady was just having fun. Now I'll overlook your interfering if you just piss off and mind your own business. Carrie here doesn't want you poking your nose in.'

Gav squeezed her thigh and Carrie let out a squeak. ‘See? She likes a bit of rough stuff,' he said.

Matt's eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘What did you say?'

‘You heard. She's enjoying herself. Now piss off, you posh twat.'

Matt's fist flew out like lightning and Gav fell backwards on to the table with a grunt of pain. Bottles and glasses smashed on the floor, alcohol spattering everywhere.

‘Facking hell! My new dress!' shrieked Natasha.

Someone shouted, ‘Fight!'

Momentarily distracted, Matt doubled up in pain as Gav's fist thudded into his stomach. He managed to grab Gav's ankle and the two of them ended up on the floor, grunting.

‘Stop it!' screamed Carrie, but people had already swarmed from the dance floor to shout and cheer them on. They grappled with each other but Matt managed to get on top of Gav. Carrie was on the verge of trying to separate them when three huge bouncers, two blokes and a woman, started to muscle their way through the crowd. Natasha had disappeared.

‘Leave him alone! We're all going to get thrown out, you stupid prat!' shouted Carrie, whacking at Matt with her bag.

‘Ow!' Matt groaned as the metal frame crunched down on his skull. ‘What the fuck was that?'

‘A fake D&G clutch. Now come on, you idiot!'

Gav took his chance to get up and was dragged into the crowd by a group of his mates just as the bouncers pounced on Matt and Carrie.

‘But I haven't done anything,' wailed Carrie as the woman bouncer twisted her arm behind her back. ‘Ow! That hurts!'

‘We don't like catfights. Out you go,' boomed the woman.

‘But I wasn't fighting!' shouted Carrie, propelled through the cheering crowds by the woman. In a moment she was being thrust through a black hole, with no idea what had happened to Matt, Natasha, or Rowena.

‘Don't think of trying to get back in. You're lucky we haven't called the police,' said the woman, slamming the door behind her.

It took a few seconds for Carrie's eyes to adjust to the dimly lit alleyway behind the club. The wind was whistling in from the sea, blowing rubbish around her ankles. Her skirt was torn and her knees were grazed from where she'd stumbled as she'd been thrown out. It was damp in the sea air, and she could smell chips, cigarette smoke, maybe worse. Where was Matt? She was frantic. What if he'd been hurt by the bouncers? Then she heard him. He was doubled over a few meters away in the shadow of a Dumpster, gulping in air. His shirt was ripped, his jeans were stained with beer, and there was blood trickling down from his lip. As he straightened up, he spat, then wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. He looked very, very pissed off.

‘I didn't plan for this to happen,' Carrie said.

He was glaring at her. ‘Really? And I thought you might have wanted to get my attention. What the hell did you think you were doing with that prat?'

‘I can take care of myself, and I was just having a good time,' she said defiantly. ‘I made a bad choice, that's all.'

‘Again?'

‘How dare you judge me! Who I choose to talk to or sleep with is none of your business. There was nothing wrong with Spike.'

‘I didn't mean Spike,' he said, advancing towards her. She backed away. The wall was behind her. Matt kept on coming and planted both hands on the wall either side of her head. She flattened her palms against the brickwork. It was cold and rough against her bare back. ‘Ah, now I get it,' he said.

‘What the hell do you mean by that?'

‘I think you know exactly what I mean. Every time I find a woman attractive, shall we say, you get all arsey and start giving me a moral lecture. But it was okay when you wanted to have sex with Spike, or tonight with Mr. Muscle.' His breath was warm against her face. ‘I think what you really want is a night with me yourself. Am I right? Is that what you want?'

She couldn't answer him. His arrogance and presumption drove her mad but she just couldn't lie. Not when, roughed up, smelling of lager, and with a swollen lip, he was as sexy as hell.

‘I don't…' she whispered, turning her head to the side, unable to look him in the face.

‘Sorry? Didn't quite get that.'

Her eyes met his. ‘I don't know!'

Her words seemed to echo in the darkness. She felt her heart beating, thick and hard, as though it wanted to burst out of her chest. Matt took her chin in his fingers and gently turned her face to his. And then he lowered his lips to hers, so unexpectedly softly that it took her breath away. Her knees buckled as his tongue swept over the inside of her upper lip. His shirt was damp with sweat as she twisted it in her fingers. He stopped kissing her and moved his mouth to her bare shoulder, nipping her, gently but enough to make her cry out in surprise. Just as she thought she might melt, he pulled away.