Short fiction

Meddle

She walks straight through the double doors as they open for her. Black rectangular sunglasses cover her eyes. She walks to the bar with her hips forward, shoulders back, thumbs in her pockets. She swaggers without a smile. Her lipstick is painted on, a striking shade of red. She is a woman on a mission.

   At the bar she asks for water served with ice in a small glass. It is all about presentation. If the façade has no cracks, then why look beneath? She has learned these lessons well. She learned them the hard way. She learned to reinvent herself. But she is no femme fatale.

   She glances to her right at a pair of reflective doors. She can see her body perfectly. She approves the way the fitted little black dress accentuates her toned physique. When she looks back at the dance floor she sees him walk in. He has two friends with him, one on each side, like flanking bodyguards. It is time to set her plan in motion. At last, she smiles.

   She acknowledges her girlfriends and glides across the dance floor to them. The five women smile and laugh as she points out the two bodyguards. She then selects two of her friends to distract them. As the three girls dance to the middle of the floor she swings her hips, steps to the beat and grazes her hand across his back. He turns around as she does the same. She smiles and raises her hand to apologise, he smiles, shakes his head and turns back to see her friends are dancing with some more girls. He turns back to see her slowly moving towards the bar. She sees his reflection drawing towards her in the mirror behind the bar. She smiles again to herself.

   He catches up with her at the bar and offers to buy her drink. She smiles and leans back against the bar. He mirrors her movements, trying to see through her glasses. The drinks arrive as she raises one hand, and then she puts the other over his and squeezes then releases it. As he is distracted, paying and putting his change in his wallet, she opens one of her rings and spikes his drink. He would notice if it weren’t for her other hand on his neck pulling him in for a kiss.

   He leads her to the middle of the dance floor. They swagger, they sway, they play the game, and as they compete to take the lead in this primitive act of seduction she remembers what he did the last time they met, and how it led her to this moment. It is almost identical, insultingly so, the way he spins her and recoils her into his chest. Last time, she had long fair curls, and they flowed around her like the dresses of her childhood, full of hopes and dreams.  This time her black bob barely moves as she twists her body around him. But the memories become more real, and she struggles to focus.

    He was everything she was looking for, lonely and naive as she was. Handsome, well-dressed and took an interest in her. Her soul yearning for love was apparent to him. Fortunately for him, she could not see his sole yearning for a fuck. He held her close, and she felt safe and wanted. No matter the number of girlfriends with her, she would always feel lonely and she thought he could fix her. She was so willing to let him come back to her room; he hardly bothered to justify it himself. He had done it so many times before, and nothing ever came back to hurt him. It was easy for him to convince himself that she was looking for the same thing and just playing a game. She wasn’t. But she is now.

   She woke up the next day with beams of sun breaking through the curtains, creating a faint pink glow in her bedroom. She looked to the other side of the bed. He was gone. No goodbye, no note, no acknowledgement of her or the night before. She lay there for hours thinking that he must have known it was her first time and not understanding why he left. Was it him? Was it me? What should I do? What did I do? She regrets dwelling for so long on the same questions. And never getting any answers. She isn’t looking for answers tonight, just revenge. And she will make sure she gets it.

Any remorse she might feel is numbed by the fact that he has no idea who she is. She tells herself he would not remember her even without the change of dress, make-up and hair. He deserves this. He starts to feel the effects of the drug, but as his pupils dilate she signals another friend, a beautiful male friend. He is so beautiful everyone looks at him, men and women. As her friend moves near her and smiles and beckons her over she looks at him. Sweating, he realises he has competition, so he holds her closer, thinking he is winning a prize, not heading for a loss. As he started to tire she pushes him against a wall and kisses him, taking his mind off himself as much as she can. He says he needs a drink and they order at the bar. He was staring at the drinks, making it hard for her to drop the pills in. She pretends to slip but he catches her, so she digs her heel hard into his left foot as she stands up straight. It’s not much, but it distracts him. She gets the pills in.

   They go back to the dance floor and he seems to recover. She can’t stop smiling, he is moving faster around the floor and can’t keep his eyes off her, waits eagerly if she goes to the bathroom. No matter how much he moves, he feels more awake and energetic. The hours pass and they go to get drinks again before the bar closes. While he downed one shot after another she poured more of the powder in each one. After an hour it all hits him. She leads him outside as the club closes.

   In the alleyway he staggers around and vomits over and over again in a corner, struggling to hold himself up against the wall. She sees his friends and sharply tells them to get a taxi, that he has drunk too much. She slyly kicks him in the back of his knee. His head slams against the wall and he falls headfirst into the pool of his own vomit. He is unconscious. She is finished.

   His friends return promptly. She tells them they had better get an ambulance and she and her friends stroll into the taxi his friends had called. As they are driven back to their homes she sits back and relaxes. She has done it. She is not the girl who tried to have it all and loses it all, or the girl who stays content with what she has. She is the woman who refuses to be mistreated or humiliated, without consequences. She says to her friends that women can get what they want and not have to sacrifice everything else. Her friends, like a chorus, recite the old mantras of modern romance. As they laugh, she thinks about all the other women like her. And she hopes they would follow her lead. He meddled with her heart, her soul and her mind, but he didn’t know what he’d find or what she hides.

David Barker