COLD CONCRETE
Angela tramped down the dimly-lit street, trying to ignore the venomous stares of the women she passed standing on the kerb.
Jittery, she strained to appear confident, knowing if they sensed any weakness she’d never gain a foothold on this street. Hardening her resolve, Angela squared her shoulders and thrust her chin out, putting a strut in her walk. She was determined to stake her claim on the cold concrete.
She paused to check her reflection in a shop window. Her lustrous dusky hair framed a radiant, angular face riven by high cheek bones and plump sensuous lips. Her amber eyes flicked to the clique of women, still eyeing her with a baleful gaze.
She smoothed down her tight red skirt and tugged at the hem of her white tank top, displaying her ample cleavage to full advantage.
She frowned when she saw one woman break off from the clique. Pursing her pouty lips in anxiety, Angela readied for a fight. Tense, she watched the woman stalk towards her menacingly.
She halted to a stop, just a foot from Angela.
‘Got a smoke?’ the woman said.
Angela glanced at the skinny blonde. Sheathed in a spangly frock, her kohl-rimmed eyes glinted with malice.
‘Sure,’ Angela replied, digging into her purse.
Fishing out a pack of cigarettes, she handed one to the blonde, placed another one between her lips and sparked it.
‘Haven’t seen you before,’ the blonde said, looking her over. ‘You’re in Claire’s spot. Better bounce before she comes by.’
Angela returned the stare, purging smoke through her nostrils. Standing her ground, she said, ‘I’ll stay. She can tell me herself.’
As they stood appraising each other, an Audi saloon with tinted windows lurched to a stop nearby. The driver pipped the horn.
‘Thanks for the cig,’ the blonde said, trotting towards the Audi. She circled to the passenger side and hopped in. The car sped away.
Must be her regular, Angela surmised, watching the Audi’s brake lights disappear down the street.
Hearing howling and laughter, she whipped around to see three men wobbling drunkenly in her direction. Walking three abreast, they had their arms around each other as they sang and staggered down the street.
They noticed Angela and stopped to leer at her.
‘Looking good, baby,’ slurred one of the men. ‘Come have a ball with us.’
He reached out to fondle her.
Angela slapped the hand away.
‘C’mon honey, play nice,’ said a short, pudgy one. ‘We’ll treat you real good.’
Angela glared at the trio of louts. Her pulse spiked. She hoped the fear didn’t show on her face.
‘I don’t do group jobs or drunks,’ Angela hissed, with all the menace she could muster. ‘You lot better buzz off before we gang up on you and cut your nuts off.’
The three men looked up and down the street. The clique of women stood watching with interest.
‘Let’s bounce,’ the pudgy one said. ‘She’s a hag anyway.’
Breaking into song again, the plastered trio tottered away.
Angela exhaled in relief. Had the men called her bluff, she didn’t know what she could’ve done.
High heels clicked on the asphalt as the clique of women flocked towards her.
‘What did you tell those knobheads?’ a brunette with spiked hair asked.
Angela scanned the faces of the women huddling around her. Her show of bravado hadn’t gone unnoticed.
‘Not much,’ Angela deadpanned. ‘Just told them they’d lose their prized jewels if they messed with me.’
The clique of women roared with laughter and high-fived Angela in turns.
‘What’s your name?’ the brunette said.
‘Angie.’
A car horn sounded. They turned and saw a sleek, black BMW idling by the kerb. The driver poked his hand out of the window and pointed at one of them.
‘I think he wants you, Angie,’ a voice in the group said.
Realising it was indeed her the finger was pointing at, Angela took a few fortifying breaths.
Stepping confidently on the cold concrete, she flounced towards the waiting car.
END.
