Thirteen: Spice Up My Life
The transition from junker to club was not a smooth one for Max. The chilly dark of the truck's interior was swept away by the flash of strobe lights assaulting her eyes. Strangers gyrated on the dance floor around them, packed close, filling the room with heat and the faint odour of sweat and deodorant. The throbbing bass reverberated in Max's chest like a monstrous heartbeat. It was louder and more crowded than the Vortex party she and Chloe had infiltrated. Everything seemed to pulse with the bass and the strobe lights and for a few seconds Max couldn't tell up from down.
She grabbed at Chloe to steady herself and found she was clutching at a black crop top with a plunging neckline, peppered with gold sequins. It was impressively un-Chloe-like, though the spiked collar and studded chain were a bit closer to the mark. Worry flashed over her girlfriend's features and Chloe's arms settled around her waist. She said something that Max couldn't quite hear, but that she thought might have been "You okay?" She nodded. Chloe's eyes then dropped and her lips twitched. She leaned in next to Max's ear to be heard over the thrumming bass. "Very Spice Girls."
When Max glanced down she found she was wearing a very, very short skirt emblazoned with the Union Jack. "Wowzer." It was just as well the strobe lights were shifting between pink and orange because her face was turning a similar colour.
"Spice up my life!" Chloe hollered into her ear, grinning.
If Max said she wasn't an expert on dance music it would be a truly epic understatement. But even she could tell the blaring bass and synth thrumming through the club, were retro. Even if her life had depended on it, she couldn't have identified just what made it sound... well... old. And kind of cheesy, especially as the female vocals of the chorus gave way to a rap verse. Definitely not the sort of thing that they'd be playing in clubs in 2013.
Chloe must have been thinking along similar lines because she grimaced up at the speakers nestled in among the lights.
Max leaned close. "Not the music they played at your raves?"
"No fucking way. This is serious Eurotrash." Chloe snagged her hand and headed off the dance floor. "Come on, Hippie Spice."
She dragged her to a corner off to one side of the bar. It was only marginally quieter, but at least here they weren't packed in with the New Year's Eve revellers. Max sighed, her shoulders slumping with relief. This place made the Vortex parties look like Bingo night at the seniors home. Her relief was short-lived. A burly man in a black shirt with the word "staff" printed across the chest was marching towards them. Chloe took a step in front of Max.
"Finally!" he boomed at he got close. He scratched at his scruffy blond beard and grinned. "Man I thought you'd gotten too shitfaced to show."
Chloe crossed her arms. "Totally sober, dude. What do you want?"
His smile faltered. "Hey I'm the one doing you a favour, remember? You said you needed cash and I hooked you up, right? He said he was looking for the punk look. That's totally you. And he's totally legit. Perfectamundo, babe." He gave Chloe the thumbs up. Chloe, meanwhile, looked like she'd bitten into a lemon. "Come on. Please? At least talk to him so I can get my finder's fee?" Neither she nor Chloe said a word. Which he took to be a 'yes' because he was smiling again. "Just like... Wait here two seconds."
Max leaned next to Chloe's ear. "What do you think?
"I think we're about to be pimped out to a Columbian drug lord."
Max winced. "Should we bail?"
In answer, Chloe held out a balled fist. Who needed to make decisions when you could rock-paper-scissors, your way through all of life's tough choices? "I win we go. You win we stay."
Max stuck out her hand and pumped it three times in the air. And kept her hand balled in a fist. So did Chloe. They tried again, and this time Max's index and middle fingers formed the V for scissors. Chloe's was open, palm down. Paper. "I win," Max said, casting a dubious glance in the direction of the bouncer. Her palms broke out into a cold sweat. It was true that this wasn't real, but, it felt real. And anything that happened while they were here was a real experience. And suddenly waiting seemed like a terrible idea. She was about to tell Chloe that maybe they should go anyway when she spotted the bouncer pushing through the crowd in front of the bar, with someone in tow behind him. It was only when they cleared the crowd that she could get a good look at the other man.
Flashing across his face, the strobe lights painted him in red and orange hues, like a demon crossing the floor, but she would known that face anywhere. It was the face that haunted her nightmares. Jefferson.
He was younger, dressed in a blue blazer and jeans with a waist that came up too high. His beard was fuller and his glasses larger, with a sort of tortoiseshell pattern on the plastic frames. But it was him. It was Jefferson back in his Seattle days.
He gave them a silky smile and Max's stomach twisted. She loathed that smile now. He was as slick as an oil spill. And she was one of those birds that was pulled out of it covered in noxious black goo. "Nice to meet you." He held out a hand for Chloe to shake. She remained frozen in place, her face contorted with fury. He withdrew his hand and rubbed his palms together. "I hear you're interested in modelling for me?"
This time she wasn't tied up. Max stepped close enough that spittle flew into his face as she spoke. "Eat shit and die," she snarled.
That was Chloe's cue to step in and knee him in the balls. A sharp squeak escaped him before he bent over in pain. "Motherfucking asshole," Chloe yelled, loud enough that even over the pulsing bass, people at the bar turned to look at them.
He raised his head enough to glower at them, like he was taking a mental photo of their faces, remembering them, imagining what he would do to them. Chloe grabbed him by the hair and smashed her knee into his face. "You fucking murderer."
Blood erupted from his nose and this time he crumpled onto the floor. The stunned bouncer grabbed Chloe's arm but not before she managed to land a kick to Jefferson's ribs. Max watched. She'd pulled Warren off of Nathan once, but right now, she didn't want to stop Chloe. Even if it made her a terrible human being, she was happy to see Jefferson take a beating. She only wished it was real.