Wasted (8 page)

Then, without warning – because there almost never is a warning – the forces of night make their move.

This is the moment when events will go in one direction or another. There will be a tiny happening, unnoticed by all concerned, which, like the dirt on one side of a coin, or an uneven surface to land on, will make all the difference in the world to Jack and Jess and some of the people who love them.

Here, now, are the two alternatives. Only one will actually happen. We will look at them both and then play Jack's Game and let the coin decide. Will it be heads or will it be tails?

NOTE:

Only one of the next two chapters will happen. Then, a coin will spin and the story will follow whichever event the coin “decides”.

OUTSIDE
the club, a girl called Marianne is queuing with her friends. Marianne has a fake ID. It is her older sister's passport. She has used it before and it has usually worked. She looks enough like her sister and, in any case, passport photos usually look like a criminal version of someone vaguely like oneself when ill.

There are two bouncers on the door. Marianne smiles sweetly at one of them.

He almost smiles back. “ID. Please.” Takes it from her. Flicks through it. Is about to ask her a question. He isn't sure he believes it's hers.

“Date of birth?”

Marianne knows that one. Dead obvious. She looks straight at him, and there's a confidence in her face that goes a very long way to convincing him. But not the whole way. He still doesn't one hundred per cent believe her. He's going to ask her what countries she's been to. And when. So he flicks through the pages to find one with tourist stamps. There are a lot of stamps – this is a girl who has travelled. Or, if it's not hers, the owner of the passport has. He can probably catch her out. On the other hand, can he be bothered? He's turned away a load of people that night, done his job.

No, he will – he'll trap her. Might as well. He opens his mouth to ask her the first question. But at that very moment there is a noise over her shoulder and he looks up. It's a group of boys, rich kids, noisily pushing into the queue. They could be about to cause trouble. The other people in the queue are not happy. His colleague has just gone to the toilet, so he's on his own.

For a moment, he hesitates. It could go either way.

But you can't hesitate long in a job like this. You have to make snap decisions.

He decides.

He lets Marianne in and focuses on the boys.

Meanwhile, in the bar, Jack and Jess are standing up, showing each other photos on their phones. They are going to dance soon, but they need to finish their drinks first, which are on the table near them. Margaritas, salt on the rims. Jess is not planning to have anything more after this. She knows she has had enough. Her head is gently spinning.

Kelly Jones appears beside them. She is smiling. Pleasantly. Which is disconcerting.

“Hello, Kelly,” says Jack. Jess watches her. Alcohol has slackened Kelly's mouth and various other muscles and as she leans towards Jack she almost falls on him.

“Steady there, Kelly,” he says.

She continues smiling sweetly, her face centimetres from his. Traces her finger down the side of his face and to his collar. Jess watches. Kelly's smile is not in her eyes.

Marianne, at this precise moment, has met Ella and Chris on the other side of the bar and is chatting to them. This is much more important than it might seem. Jack and Jess are, of course, unaware. They have more apparently interesting things to concentrate on.

Someone knocks into Jack from behind and he twists round.

A boy grins, holds his hands up. “Sorry, mate!”

Jack shrugs.

At this moment, Kelly appears to lose interest in Jack's body and walks away. Or perhaps
reels away
is a better way to describe her erratic path. Jess and Jack look at each other and grin.

“Weird!” says Jess.

“Horrible,” says Jack. “Finish your drink and then we can go and dance.

Jess stirs hers and knocks it back. Later she may half remember that it tasted somewhat bitter but it's hard to be sure, especially with the salt on the rim. And anyway, she has drunk it now. She follows Jack onto the small dance floor.

OR,
alternatively, is this what happens?

Outside the club, a girl called Marianne is queuing with her friends. Marianne has a fake ID. It is her older sister's passport. She has used it before and it has usually worked. She looks enough like her sister and, in any case, passport photos usually look like a criminal version of someone vaguely like oneself when ill.

There are two bouncers on the door. Marianne smiles sweetly at one of them.

He almost smiles back. “ID. Please.” Takes it from her. Flicks through it. Is about to ask her a question. He isn't sure he believes it's hers.

“Date of birth?”

Marianne knows that one. Dead obvious. She looks straight at him, and there's a confidence in her face that goes a very long way to convincing him. But not the whole way. He still doesn't one hundred per cent believe her. He's going to ask her what countries she's been to. And when. So he flicks through the pages to find one with tourist stamps. There are a lot of stamps – this is a girl who has travelled. Or, if it's not hers, the owner of the passport has. He can probably catch her out. On the other hand, can he be bothered? He's turned away a load of people that night, done his job.

No, he will – he'll trap her. Might as well. He opens his mouth to ask her the first question. But at that very moment there is a noise over her shoulder and he looks up. It's a group of boys, rich kids, noisily pushing into the queue. They could be about to cause trouble. The other people in the queue are not happy. His colleague has just gone to the toilet, so he's on his own.

For a moment, he hesitates. It could go either way.

But you can't hesitate long in a job like this. You have to make snap decisions.

He decides.

“Just wait,” he tells Marianne. “You're going nowhere. Oi, you lot – get to the back of the queue or there's no way you're getting in!”

There's a certain amount of grumbling. One boy is held back by the others when it looks as though he might argue. The bouncer has the power and they know that.

So, he turns his attention back to Marianne and catches her out with some of his questions about countries that she hasn't been to. “Sorry, love, not your lucky night,” he says, grinning. And she goes off with her friends to try somewhere else.

Marianne, therefore, does not get into the club. Which is much more important than it seems.

Meanwhile, in the bar, Jack and Jess are standing up, showing each other photos on their phones. They are going to dance soon, but they need to finish their drinks first, which are on the table near them. Margaritas, salt on the rims. Jess is not planning to have anything more after this. She knows she has had enough. Her head is gently spinning.

Kelly Jones appears beside them. She is smiling. Pleasantly. Which is disconcerting.

“Hello, Kelly,” says Jack. Jess watches her. Alcohol has slackened Kelly's mouth and various other muscles and as she leans towards Jack she almost falls on him.

“Steady there, Kelly,” he says.

She continues smiling sweetly, her face centimetres from his. Traces her finger down the side of his face and to his collar. Jess watches. Kelly's smile is not in her eyes.

Someone knocks into Jack from behind and he twists round.

A boy grins, holds his hands up. “Sorry, mate!”

Jack shrugs.

At this moment, Kelly appears to lose interest in Jack's body and walks away. Or perhaps
reels away
is a better way to describe her erratic path. Jess and Jack look at each other and grin.

“Weird!” says Jess.

“Horrible,” says Jack. “Finish your drink and then we can go and dance.”

Jess is about to do so, when her drink is suddenly knocked out of her hand. It is Chris, with Ella close behind.

“What the…!”

“I think your drink was spiked.”

“You're joking! How do you know?”

“We saw Kelly talking to someone and then she came over to you and we thought she was going to cause trouble. Then this other guy was going towards you at the same time. And it just seemed all very kind of set up that the guy knocked into you while Kelly was talking to you. I couldn't see if she actually did anything because I couldn't see your drinks, but I wouldn't put it past her to have it planned.”

“But that's… How would she get hold of whatever it was?”

“Kelly knows all the right people. You know her older brother did time for supplying? She would know how to get whatever she wanted. Could have been Ecstasy or any number of things. I don't even know the names of half the stuff people can get.”

Jess feels cold. Though she finds it hard to believe that Kelly would do this. Chris and Ella
must
have imagined it.

“She can't get away with this,” says Jack. “What did the guy look like? Is he still here?” Jack cannot keep still.

“He's probably left, if he's got any sense,” said Ella.

“Come on – we've got to find him.” Jack starts pulling Jess towards the exit.

“No, stop,” says Ella. “I've got a better idea.” And she certainly has, a devious and clever idea. Which she tells them. And they agree.

But she may not need to use her devious and clever idea, because we still don't know which of the two possibilities comes true. Does Marianne get into the club and distract Chris and Ella so that they don't see anything, or does Marianne
not
get into the club, leaving Chris and Ella free to keep an unintentional but useful watch over Jack and Jess?

We have to let the coin decide. It's time to play Jack's Game.

THE
coin lands heads up. For Marianne, the night is going swimmingly. Her fake ID has worked, by chance or whatever – she doesn't care now. Now, someone she likes from school has appeared in her line of vision. She finishes talking to Ella and Chris and moves on.

Swimmingly, in another sense, could be used to describe how Jess is about to feel. But for now she's walking onto the dance floor with Jack. It is perhaps not fair to describe in too much detail the sensations in their bodies. They are dancing together – how should we expect them to feel? It absorbs every cell of their bodies. It makes them hot, their blood surging, a melting feeling. Each move of fingers on body catches their breath, takes over their heartbeat, quickening everything except time, as the music pounds through them.

Jess is dizzy now, her head buzzing. She feels slightly sick. She knows she has drunk too much but it has come on her suddenly. Now, too late, she regrets that last drink. But she knows it's always too late by the time you regret that last drink.

And this particular drink – as we know, but Jess does not – is special.

The music slows and Jack takes Jess. He begins to wrap his arms around her and she vaguely feels his hands on her back. But she is not sure. She is slipping away, though her feet still seem to work. Voices, faces, head and arms swirl around her. The room goes dark and there is a salty taste on her tongue. There are animals in the room, wolves and dragons breathing liquid nitrogen, dancing. A unicorn stands in the corner, smooth and white, motionless, watching. Jess shakes her head but the unicorn is still there. A hunter prowls the room looking for her.

She is caught in a net. It is around her shoulders, her face. She tries to scream but only silence comes out and there is not enough breath in her lungs. The rope, thick and smelling of the sea, is over her mouth and she struggles, panic rising now. The wolves and dragons are watching her. Some of them are laughing. Freezing air washes her face and she gasps with a headache that grips her from nowhere. Colour has disappeared and everything is grey, darkening, now almost black.