JAGGER

Katie

Rachel sat at the dresser, applying lipstick to her already red lips.

“How’s this?” Rachel asks, turning towards me and flashing a toothy smile.

“Looking good,” I smile.

“Your turn,” Rachel calls, throwing the lipstick across the bed. I pick it up and try to find the name of the colour lipstick. It was red, too red for my liking. I’m more of a natural-coloured girl. I don’t see the need to make a statement, and red lipstick is too out there for me.

“Tonight is going to be so exciting!” Rachel squeals as she stands up in her cherry red body-con dress and goes to her wardrobe.

“I can’t wait for you to meet all my workmates… Glen, Wally, Adam… oh! And Hudson! What a hunk!” she drools.

I smile as I watch my friend put her red strappy heels on her feet. Red lips, red dress, red shoes. With her blonde hair and ample bosom, Rachel looks sexy. But that’s Rachel. She oozes sexiness. Boys flock around her like flies and she loves it. On the other hand, I struggle with the confidence to even speak to a guy at a club, while Rachel has no qualms about putting her arms around the neck of some random male and kissing him.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Rachel asks, pulling me out of my thoughts. I look down at my clothes. What’s wrong with this? I wear bootleg jeans and a black tank top with diagonal rips cut across the stomach. It cost forty bucks. Not exactly cheap.

“Yup,” I agree, smoothing my jeans and looking at my friend. I’ve always been a jeans and T-shirt girl. I’m comfortable and happy with my look.

“Well, I guess you still look hot, like I told them you’d be.” Rachel shrugs, “I’ll call an Uber. Do you want to put your things in my bag?”

I watch Rachel walk into the living room and check my own bag again. Black cardigan (just in case), cell phone with my card and driver’s licence, and keys. Nope, I’m good. I’ll leave my overnight bag here but I’ll take my small tote bag across my body, ready to go. I have everything I need just in case. Just in case she ditches me again. It took me a long time to trust Rachel after what she did. I would have liked to have gone no contact, but it’s hard because Rachel’s parents and my parents are family friends.

And Rachel promised. She’s been nagging me to go out with her for weeks, but I’ve been making excuse after excuse until I finally cracked and said I didn’t want her to leave me for a guy again. And she promised not to do that again. ‘Hoes before bros’ and all that. So here I am, Friday night, getting ready to go clubbing in Rachel’s one bedroom apartment.

I join Rachel in the living room, watching as she’s taking selfies on her phone to put on her insta account.

.“Selfie!” Rachel cries when I sit next to her. I do as she asks and pose my head next to hers.

“Okay, smile!” she instructs. We smile and her phone makes a camera-clicking sound.

“Now duckface,” Rachel instructs, pausing for me to comply before taking another picture. She turns her phone over to review the photos and laughs when she gets to the final pictures.

“Hey!” I dry as Rachel cackles in laughter. I grab her phone but she holds it away so I can’t take it. The photo she’s laughing at is of me, my lips pursed together in a duckface, while she beams at the camera with a big bright smile.

“Rachel!” I cry again, reaching for her phone, but she laughs and gets up from her seat on the couch.

“Instagramming that!” Rachel laughs, still looking at her phone.

“I hate you,” I scowl, heat rising to my cheeks.

“No, you don’t,” Rachel grins, her phone then beeping in her hand.

“Uber’s here!” she smiles, changing the subject. I roll my eyes. The photo’s out now, there’s nothing much I can do. We leave the apartment and take the elevator down to meet the Uber driver waiting for us on the street.

“Hello,” Rachel grins as we slide into the back seat. That’s another thing about Rachel. She’s vivacious. She will talk to anyone about anything. She gives off a friendly vibe that people seem to like. Only they don’t know that if she doesn’t like you, she’ll stab you in the back as soon as she can.

The Uber drives us to the main street of the CBD. I look out the window as I watch the apartment buildings move to shops and office blocks. Rachel chats animatedly to the driver, and I learn that his name is Ahmad and he’s from Lebanon. Through Rachel’s questioning, I learn that he’s a refugee living with his mother’s cousins. He seems to be lapping up Rachel’s attention, and I smile because I know Rachel is also enjoying every minute of it.

The car stops at our destination and I thank Ahmad as I slide out the door. Rachel takes her time and she’s grinning from ear to ear when she follows me out.

“He gave me his number!” she cackles, handing me his business card. I flip it in my fingers and try to pass it back to her, but she refuses.

“What do you want me to do with this?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Call him or something?” Rachel replies, not caring.

The nightclub, ‘Padre’ stands before us with a long line waiting at the door. I eye the line and head for the back with Rachel following me when one of the bouncers calls to us to let us in.

“Ooh, it must be the dress!” Rachel coos. I scan her body but don’t say anything. Rachel is a big girl. Not overweight, but she has a belly, large hips and ample breasts.

“Thank you,” I tell the bouncer, a big Pacific Island dude who just nods as he opens the rope for us.

“Hey! That’s not fair!” revellers call out when the bouncer does this.

The club is what you expect to see at ten o’clock at night. It’s dark, with flashing lights at the ceiling and silhouettes of bodies dancing before us. And it’s warm. A huge contrast to the temperature outside.

“They said they’d meet us by the bar in a booth,” Rachel yells as she leads us across the floor towards the bar. I nod and try to keep up as Rach sidles past drinking dancers bouncing up and down and waving their arms about. After being bumped and ducking under flailing limbs I finally reach for Rachel’s hand so I don’t lose her. Rachel turns and smiles at me as she continues her way through the throng of dancers.

“Hi, boys!” Rachel exclaims as she steers us toward a dark booth in the corner of the room. I stand next to her and watch as four men get out of the booth so she can hug them. One of the men, an older guy with a round belly and small eyes looks at me with interest.

“Guys, this is Katie,” Rachel gushes, finally indicating to me.

“Hi,” I greet shyly.

“Kate, this is Glen, Wally, Adam and Hudson,” Rachel introduces.

“Hi,” I say again. Glen is a tall man who looks to be in his mid-thirties. His dark hair is shaved on the sides in a mullet cut and he looks like he’s still trying to hang on to his youth. He offers me his hand to shake, which I do. The pressure of his shake makes me feel sick as his grip is soft and his fingers limp. It’s not manly at all.

“I’m Wallace, only my friends call me Wally,” Wally says. I nod, unsure how to respond to that. He’s the guy with the beady eyes who was checking me out earlier.

Adam waves and I smile back. He’s young, about our age, with a mop of curly hair and a pierced eyebrow. Hudson is tall, blonde and blue-eyed. As Rachel implied, he’s handsome, but he has an air about him that tells he knows he’s hot.

“Hello, Katie. How was your day? Rachel tells me you’re a hairdresser,” Hudson says, smiling down at me.

“Uh…” I reply, giving Rachel a side glance.

“Can you cut my hair?” Wally immediately asks.

“Whereabouts?” Hudson asks. All the men, including Rachel, laugh.

“Oh,” Rachel smiles, winking at me, “Be nice boys.”

“It’s okay, love,” Wally continues, “she can cut meh hair anytime she likes,” he says wrapping his arm around me and leading me towards the booth. I look at Rachel, screaming for help with my eyes, but she just grins.

“Wally, be nice, let her breathe,” Rachel states as she sits next to Hudson. Hudson looks over at Rachel and smiles, before looking at me.

“Shots!” Glen yelled as he brought a tray of tequila shots to the table. I hadn’t even noticed that he’d left, too mortified by the attention I was getting from Wally, I mean Warwick.

“So, the rules are…” Glen begins, sliding into the spot next to Wally.

“I don’t play by the rules,” Rachel replies coyly, turning to look at Hudson. Hudson grins and I see his arm move under the table.

“Do you play by the rules?” Wally’s hot wet voice whispers in my ear, making me flinch.

“The rules are,” Glen repeats, “First, you lick the back of your hand…”

“Ooo, you can lick my hand”, Wally whispers again, moving his hand to rest on my leg. I feel disgusting, but I pick up his hand and let it drop back on his lap. I look at Rachel for help, but she’s too invested in Glen and Hudson.

“And then you put the salt where you licked,” Glen continues. “Next, you lick the salt off and down the tequila.” I nod and follow the others by following Glen’s instructions, downing the tequila as best as I can in one shot. I end up coughing at the end which enables Wally to rub my back in an act of comfort.

“Then you bite and suck the lemon!” Rachel yells while I cough. I watch her grab a lemon wedge nd bite into it. The men all cheer and everyone except Wally and me copy her.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” I cough, shaking Wally’s arm off me. I take a lemon wedge and bite it, sucking the juice into my mouth. I don’t know if that helped at all.

We continue to sit at the table and drink, with Glen buying us more shots and Adam getting us another round of drinks. Rachel makes an excuse to dance and she pulls me along with her, which makes me happy because I’m now not touching thighs with Wally.

“I think Wally likes you!” Rachel exclaims as she falls into the ladies bathroom. I follow her and shake my head at that statement.

“No thanks, Rachel,” I reply, walking over to the toilet stall to do my business. I’m quick and when I head for the sink to wash my hands, Rachel is at the mirror applying another coat of her red lipstick.

“C’mon!” Don’t be a party pooper! He likes you,“ Rachel repeats. I shake my head, smiling at my drunk friend.

“He might be a little older than you but you’re single, and so is he!” Rachel grins. My smile drops as I look at her, and she laughs before telling me she’ll see me out there. I watch as she giggles and stumbles out the door.

“Bitch,” I say to no one once she’s gone. I dry my hands and then open my bag for my cell phone. I enjoyed dancing with Rachel but I don’t want to sit next to Wally and his roaming hands anymore. He makes me feel sick.

The time on my phone reads eleven pm. I sigh. It’s only been an hour but it feels much longer. Going out with Rachel always feels like it takes forever. And she never wants to leave, especially when she’s met someone. But I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to come out with her. I shouldn’t be surprised.

I walk out of the bathroom and scan the room. Rachel hasn’t waited for me, from what I can see. The dance floor is still full of people, and the warmth hits you. I take a left and skirt around the dance floor, avoiding people walking on and off the floor. I’m hoping Rachel has headed for the balcony, where it’s cooler, and although I know it’s probably wishful thinking, I head towards there to look for her. Yup. Wishful thinking. I sigh and head back to the booth where Rach’s workmates should be.

Adam and Glen sit on one side of the booth, leaving Wally alone on the other.

“Have you seen Rachel?” I ask, standing by the table.

“Come sit, come sit!” Wally roars when he sees me, putting his arm out for me to sit underneath. I look at him but instead sit next to Glen, opposite Wally. “Whoa-Ho! Look at that!” Glen snorted.

“Burn!” Adam laughs. Wally scowls but I’m happier sitting here than next to him.

“Have you seen Rachel?” I ask again, slightly louder this time.

“I think she left with Hudson,” Adam replies, taking a drink. I pull my phone out and look at my text messages, hoping Rachel has at least texted me. Nothing. Rachel didn’t give me a key to her apartment, as we thought we’d go home together, so now I’m stuck.

“Do you know where she went?” I ask.

“Don’t know. The balcony?” Glen asks. I nod. I’ve been there, but she wasn’t there.

“I’m going to look for her,” I say. The guys don’t respond but I don’t expect them to and I leave the booth. I check the perimeter of the dance floor and even walk though the mingling dancers, to no avail. I walk through the tables, squinting as I walk past couples trying to figure out if they’re Hudson and Rachel or not. I check the female bathroom and even knock on each stall door. I do check the balcony and then the dance floor again but nothing.

“Have they come back?” I ask Rachel’s workmates when I return to their booth.

“Who?” Adam asks.

“Rachel and Hudson,” I reply.

“No lovey, they left, remember?” Wally stutters. I check my phone again, only to see there’s been no contact.

“Where are you?” I text Rachel. I don’t expect a reply, and I stand there, moving from leg to leg wondering what to do.

“Come sit down, lovey!” Wally says, indicating with his hands to come to him. I sniff and shake my head. I feel stupid. I fell for Rachel’s lies and she’s gone and ditched me again. At least this time I’m prepared.

“I think I’ll go. It was nice meeting you,” I say, trying to be polite. I go to move when I feel a tug on the back of my jeans. I hadn’t noticed Wally coming closer to me when I was lost in my thoughts, and now he’s pulled me down so that I’m sitting next to him.

“Come on baby! The fun hasn’t started yet!” Wally leers. I shake my head and try to wriggle out of his grasp.

“I’m good, I’m going to go,” I say, trying to leave. Wally’s hold is tight and fear hits my chest. I look desperately over at Glen and Adam, but they’re both too involved in their drinks.

“Leave me alone!” I cry, trying to pull Wally’s hands off me.

“Come on! Rachel said you’re into it!” Wally grunts, becoming more forceful. He wraps both his hairy arms around my waist, pulling me closer to his body, and I begin to panic.

“Please, let me go!” I cry, tears forming in my eyes as Wally begins to laugh. My struggle becomes more desperate and I lurch my head slightly to the left, using as much force as possible to whack him in the face. I feel a crunch followed by a yelp of pain which gives me momentary respite as Wally lets me go.

“You Bitch! You broke my nose!” Wally yells as Adam and Glen laugh.

I don’t stop to see what I’ve done. I don’t look back as I pull myself out of the booth and head for the dance floor. Tears run down my face but I don’t veer to the bathroom to calm myself down. My only thought is to move, move move. Before I know it, the temperature changes, and I realise I’ve left the warmth of the club.

I’m still not thinking as I turn left and begin to walk. Tears spill down my face and I just need to escape. I walk past people and some look at me and some try to talk to me to ask if I’m okay, but I keep walking. I’m so stupid for believing that Rachel wouldn’t break her promise and leave me all alone in the city.

My thoughts turn back to the incident that happened over six months ago when Rachel was living in Newtown. I had taken the train and gone up to see her for the weekend. We had gone clubbing in Newtown but somehow became separated. No biggie. I had drunk three glasses of wine and with Dutch courage had started talking to a cute guy when Rachel approached. We were talking about frivolous things when he turned to look at Rachel. Without any introductions, she just grabbed him and started kissing him. I was stunned. No introductions or hellos, she grabbed his face and started kissing him, when he was just talking to me! I sighed and walked back to the bar for another drink before heading to see if Rachel had finished her make-out session with the guy I had thought was interested in me.

Somehow, I had convinced Rachel to take me back to her apartment, and we had all left the club together, me and the handsome guy she took off me. I walked on ahead, angry with Rachel and wanting to go home when I noticed she wasn’t following behind me. So, I sat at a bus stop and waited for her. And waited. Party-goers walked past, some talking to me some inviting me to join them. But I sat there and waited. Eventually, she arrived, hand in hand with the guy and we walked back to her apartment.

She told him to wait for her while she let me into her apartment and we took the elevator up to her floor. Rachel was angry, leaving me as soon as possible. Not even ten minutes later she was back yelling at me because he had left during the time we had gone. Rach blamed me for leaving and told me I was selfish because I had cut the night short and she was having fun. The next day she dropped me back at the train station, tension in the air.

In the days that followed, Rachel had blown my phone up, filling it with constant angry texts and voice messages. I tried to call her but only managed to get one word out before I was met with a barrage of insults and swear words. It was awful. In one of her attacks, Rachel let me know that she had spoken to an older friend about what had happened and her older friend agreed that I was selfish and a bitch. It made me feel awful that she had spoken to an older friend, someone wiser, who agreed that I was in the wrong and selfish (and that I was being a bitch). I mean, I was in a different city, it wasn’t like I couldn’t go home to my place, and she ditched me for a guy! I was mortified that she would get advice from an older friend and her older friend agreed with her. So I decided it was best to go no contact. And I was successful. Until family gatherings came up and we were forced to be near each other again.

Which leads us to today. To stupid, stupid me who knows better to think leopards can’t change their stripes. Or spots. Whatever that saying is.

I can hear familiar voices behind me and I turn to see Wally and Glen following at a distance behind me. I wonder if they’re following me, but no, they wouldn’t, would they? Never mind. I’m safe. I’m in my home city. All I need to do is catch a cab or call an Uber and go home. I don’t need the things in my overnight bag, I’ve got everything I need on me.

Even still, I quicken my pace. Padre is a few blocks off the main street and I just need to get there and then I can get a taxi.

The familiar voices become louder and I begin to feel scared. I take a look at the road and chance it to run across. I made it to the other side as the traffic here is less busy and I continued up the street. I hear laughter and I turn and see Wally and Glen standing in the middle of the street, on a line, waiting for traffic to follow me. Shit.

I see a bar ahead and instinctively I turn towards it, opening the door and walking in. No bouncer is standing outside, but I hope that being in a place with other people will make me feel safer. At least I can stay here to book an Uber home.

The first thing I notice about this place is that it’s not as busy as the club, but still crowded. The room is long and rectangular shaped, with a bar at one end and tables scattered along the walls. There isn’t a dance floor, but music plays from the speakers spread in places along the ceiling.

I walk to the bar and sit on a stool, looking forward. The bar isn’t busy, and there is only one bartender, who is busy serving at the other end, so I sit there and practice my breathing while I wait. Breathe in, one two three, hold, one two three, breathe out one two three. I repeat this mantra six times, counting down with my fingers as I go.

As the bartender approaches me, I hear the tell-tale sign of the bar door open and the voices of Glen and Wally. My heart begins to quicken and panic begins to sit in.

“There she is!” Glen or Wally calls out, followed by a wolf whistle and a comment from one of them about the place being busy. Their noise makes the bartender look at them behind me before asking me what he could do for me today. “What can I do for you today?” he asks.

“Um,” I say nervously; I have heard what I was going to ask but had never done it myself before, “do- do you know Angela?”

Years ago I had watched a documentary about safe drinking. Angela was the safe word men and women could use when they felt unsafe at a club or bar. Apparently, if you asked a bartender about Angela, if they knew Angela, for example, it meant the bartender knew you felt unsafe and needed help. How true this was I don’t know, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take, because I need to get away from Wally and Glen.

“You’ve walked into the right place,” the bartender says softly. I nod and give him a slight smile, grateful for any help he can give me. Suddenly a woman is standing next to me. I hadn’t noticed her before but she was standing close, looking at the bartender with familiarity in her eyes. They know each other.

A hand lands on my shoulder and I flinch.

“Where yeh going?” Wally slurs. He begins to squeeze and it hurts so much that I’m sure he’s going to leave bruises.

“Leave my sister alone!” The woman beside me cried out, flinging Wally’s hand off my shoulder and putting her arm around my shoulders. I let her pull me closer, grateful for her help.

“She’s with me. Rothman, you know what to do,” the woman says before leaning in and whispering in my ear, “This is a police bar. Roth will sort them out.”

“Come on sis, come meet my friends,” the woman says, taking my arm to lead me away. I nod and look behind me as I follow. Wally and Glen stand there looking awkward as two larger men walk forward, exposing their police badges.

“Just after a drink,” I hear Wally protest

“Out,” the bartender orders. I watch as Wally puts his hands up in defeat, murmuring something that sounds like ‘bitch’ under his breath.

“Out before I get the wagon,” one of the officers replies firmly. With one last scowl at me, Wally yells “Fuck you bitch!” before stumbling out the door.

I gulp, but the woman, who must have been in her early to late forties, shushes me. She indicates to me to sit at the table occupied by another male, and I follow her.

“My name is Wendy, and this is my colleague, Steven. You want a glass of water or something?” Wendy asks. I shake my head and look down at the table, feeling ashamed.

“I’m okay, thanks,” I reply, not wanting to make eye-contact.

“What’s your name, love?” Wendy asks. Her calling me love is so different to Wally calling me lovey. With her it’s warm and friendly, caring. With Wally, it was seedy and dirty, making me feel disgusting.

“Katie,” I reply softly, slowly making eye-contact with my saviour.

“You’re safe now. Oh, this is Jagger,” Wendy says, nodding to another male who’s walked up to the table. I look up at him and nod, giving a slight smile. Wendy introduces me but I don’t wait for him to respond; instead, I return to an interesting knot in the wood of the table I had been previously focused on.

“Go get us another round,” Wendy orders the man.

“He’s my intern,” she explains, looking at me expectantly.

“Are you police officers too?” I ask, looking up at Wendy.

“No,” Wendy and Steven laugh, “we’re doctors. We’ve just come off a twenty-four-hour shift. I decided to treat Jag and Steve to a drink. This is our local.”

Jagger comes back with a round of beers for the four of us. I thank him but don’t wait for his response as he slides into the seat next to me.

“I can call you a taxi or Uber if you want, but have a drink first, calm down, doctors’ orders,” Wendy says, taking a swig of her beer.

I smile and listen to the three doctors deconstruct their night in the emergency ward. They had gotten off at twelve and were discussing the night proceedings. Drunks, car accidents and parents with their children. The usual, they had explained. They were laughing and chatting, making me feel calm and at ease. The bartender came over to check on me and asked if I was alright, to which I nodded and smiled. Having these three people include me in their conversation and the bartender asked if I was alright was a nice feeling. I felt safe and at ease around them, the first I’ve felt all night. It is surprisingly comforting.

“One more, and I’m calling it a night!” Wendy giggles, getting up and going back to the bar.

“Jagger,” she says once she returns, “call a taxi and take Katie back to hers. Make sure she’s alright.”

“Oh, I’m okay,” I begin to protest, but Wendy shakes her head, “kid’s these days. He’ll take you home; you’ll be fine.”

After the screwed-up night I’d already had, I didn’t think it could get any worse. I follow Wendy and Stephen out the door with Jagger and said goodbye to them as we parted. It would have felt awkward but I was buzzing from all the alcohol I’d consumed with them, and I they also made me feel safe. I stand there, cuddling my cardigan close to my skin, when a taxi pulls up next to me.

“You coming?” Jagger smiles as he opens the door. I nod and slide into the back seat. Jagger sits next to me and closes the door behind him as I buckle myself in. I sigh and fold my arms around my waist, closing my eyes. Exhaustion hits me like a ton of bricks.