05 | Darling

Two Years Later

"GRACE!" LENA SHOUTED FROM HER bedroom. "Grace, get in here now!"

I slid off the kitchen stool where I was sat and prepared myself for an onslaught of panicked rambling as Lena got ready for a night out. I, on the other hand, liked to keep it simple; I'd done my makeup, a simple cat eye with a bold red lip, and slipped into my navy blue dress in less than an hour. In fact, I'd planned my transformation from sloppy nurse to actual human being so perfectly that I'd already had time to sip on a glass of wine while awaiting my best friend.

Anyone who knew me knew I liked wine - though like had become a bit of a weak word since my encounter with Alex almost two years ago. Before then, I'd hardly touched alcohol at all. Lena saw it as a sudden gift from god, a miracle, but I knew it for what it really was: a numbing distraction. Because, despite the promises that had been made, Alex had never called me back.

"Does this make my arse look big?" Lena asked, shaking her booty at me as I stood in the doorway, glass in hand.

I observed the pale pink dress she wore, taking in her shapely curves and tan skin that set off the colour perfectly. "You look great," I told her honestly.

She rolled her eyes. "How about a little enthusiasm?"

"Woo!" I held up my wine glass and cheered, though even to me my voice sounded flat. "Seriously," I continued. "You really do look hot."

"I know." She popped her lips after applying a light gloss to them, admiring her own artful makeup in the mirror. By comparison, I was sure I looked more like a toddler who had been provided with crayons.

"Is that all you needed me for?"

"Pretty much."

"Jonah is picking us up soon," I reminded her gently as she rummaged in the wardrobe for some shoes. She lobbed several heels out behind her without looking, narrowly missing a collision with my head.

Jonah and I had been together for a little under a year now - he was my dad's best friend's son, a year younger than me but already more successful. He'd already procured a job at a top law firm. He wasn't second rate, like I was. He wasn't a drop out. But most of all, most importantly, he was good.

He was the sort of guy who still believed in chivalry; he held doors for me, dated me, kept a respectable distance from me around my dad. He was always polite, and always on time. He asked permission - for everything, including the right to kiss me. He loved me. I knew he loved me, and I knew I should love him. His love was safe, dependable. He'd never let me down or hurt me. He'd respect me, always. He'd never raise his voice, and especially not his fist. He was the person my dad had always hoped I'd marry; we were made for each other.

We were.

A knock at the front door of Lena's apartment knocked me from my thoughts, and increased the rate of shoe-throwing so it had almost reached critical. I went to greet Jonah who was stood outside the front door in skinny blue jeans that were a little too big for him and a dark green Hollister shirt. He looked...well, he looked like a teenager.

"Hi, Grace," he greeted with a smile, and it was only then I realised he had his hands behind his back. He brought them forward and produced a bouquet of purple and yellow flowers. "For you."

"Jonah." I smiled. "They're lovely." But those colours should never be seen together! And we're not even going on a date!

Lena popped up beside me at that moment, looking Jonah up and down as she always did. She'd never expressed her opinion on my boyfriend, which had always intrigued me; I could never quite tell whether she approved or not.

"Darling!" she crooned, leaning over to kiss his cheeks and grabbing my flowers in the process before he could complain. "Grace can't take these on a night out so I'm going to go ahead and keep them." She vanished back inside with the bouquet, winking at me as she went. "I'll be out in a minute!"

Jonah shot me a smile that said what can I do? and then proceeded to glance down at my dress - quickly, without lingering. Especially not on my cleavage, where the dress dipped down low enough in a v-shape to expose the valley between my breasts. The navy blue dress also had cut out sections near the waist that accentuated my curves, but the whole piece ended just above my knees in a pencil skirt style. I wore simple black heels with it.

"It's going to be cold out tonight," Jonah said, eyes flickering back to mine with concern, and perhaps a little disapproval. "Do you have a jacket to wear with that dress?"

I didn't like the way he said that dress but I kept my opinion to myself, just as he always did. Sometimes I hated how he'd always hold things back to keep from offending me.

I shrugged, wanting to decline like a child that won't listen to their parent, but of course I didn't want to cause an argument. "I'll go and grab one."

I found Lena in the kitchen, a smirk on her face, waiting for me. She was still holding the flowers, plucking their heads off one by one into the bin. "Purple and yellow, really?"

"Tell me about it."

"He does realise this isn't a date, right? We're going out to sesh not talk about the three perfect children you two are going to have and where they'll go to school."

"I know," I groaned. "I'm not sure if a club is his sort of scene." My cardigan was slung across the back of one of the kitchen chairs. I grabbed it but didn't put it on. "Maybe this was a bad idea."

Lena binned the rest of the flowers forcefully and then grabbed my shoulders, spinning me to face her. "You need a night out. So do I. If he wants to tag along and have a shitty time while we're living it up, then don't let him hold you back," she scolded. "You look sexy, and the world is your oyster, darling."

From anyone else's mouth, I vehemently despised pet names, but Lena's use of darling had grown on me. She said it like some sort of glamorous nineteen fifties film star who should be draped across a chaise lounge smoking a cigarette and eating men's hearts for breakfast at two in the afternoon.

"Let's go," I suggested, feeling empowered by my best friend's little speech. She reached over and wiped a smudge of lipstick off one of my teeth then nodded.

We met Jonah at the door - he remained stood outside, perfectly politely - and as he turned to head down the front steps Lena grabbed the cardigan from on my arm and threw it back into the house. "It just wasn't a good look," she whispered and I had to stifle a giggle.

We rode in a taxi to the club. Jonah sat in the front, of course (it was probably a matter of chivalry), while Lena and I occupied the back, chatting excitedly about the opening of Rush, the hotly anticipated new club we'd somehow managed to score tickets to. The opening night was exclusive, and although she never elaborated, Lena said she'd practically had to sell her soul to get hold of them. And all of that surprised me not because I thought Lena wouldn't sell her soul (she would), but because, to be brutally honest, why would anyone want us there? We were nurses who struggled to pay rent every month - there was nothing glamorous or exciting about us.

It wasn't that we didn't look the part - Lena had made sure we did - it was more that our presence wasn't exactly conducive to the hip, exclusive vibe the owners were probably angling for.

Rush had been built in and under an abandoned multi-storey car park on the outskirts of London, but any knowledge about its existence had been disseminated through word of mouth only. There had been no advertising campaigns or social media coverage - the process of applying for tickets had even been laborious and secretive. Of course, word had got out, as it always did, but the ambiguous excitement of such a mysterious event hadn't faded with knowledge of its presence.

Other than its location, those who procured tickets had received no information about the club - not its style or expectations. The only vague morsel of explanation came in the simple tag line: come one, come all. A little ironic considering the opening night was so exclusive, and nobody quite knew what qualified you as eligible for tickets.

While Jonah paid the taxi driver, Lena and I climbed out of the cab to examine the high rise car park towering above us.

"Holy fuck," Lena breathed, wafting herself with our tickets. That was pretty much how I felt, I had to admit.

At first, on a ground level, the building showed no signs of life. The exterior was made of grotty grey-black concrete with a single door and no windows. Nobody stood outside, and no music permeated the air.

"Are you sure that this is the right place?" I wondered. Lena nodded, and, for once, said nothing. She was speechless as she pointed upwards.

My eyes followed her hand, scanning the building against the twilight London skyline. And then I saw. The first few levels of the car park had been completely enclosed by concrete walls - there were no windows, and there was no sound. But about half way up the tall block, each level of the car park was distinguished by a gap in the concrete, forming almost a balcony structure so that the club was more open-air style. Flashing lights could be seen beyond the gaps in the massive concrete structure, along with people dancing and leaning over it, looking down at us. Clever bastards, I thought. They must have designed it so that those parts of the club were so high up you couldn't hear the music from on the ground.

Jonah startled me from my awe by placing a gentle hand on the small of my back. "Are we ready?"

I didn't even have time to answer before Lena grabbed my hand firmly and yanked me in the direction of the small black door. I hoped Jonah was keeping up behind us, but I didn't have time to check as excitement flooded me.

Lena pulled open the door and let out an excited squeak. On the ground floor where we stood, velvet ropes led the way in two directions - either up or down. The room was dark, filled only by UV lights that illuminated signs and the security guards who were letting people through. Down was signposted "90's Rave" while up was signposted "house party".

"Oh my god!" Lena exclaimed, tugging on my arm excitedly.

"This is insane," I whispered back. Drum and base music was playing in the background of the room, gradually growing in volume along with my own anticipation.

Jonah appeared behind us. "Oh god," he breathed, though in a much more negative way than Lena. He sounded like this place was his worst nightmare - which it probably was. Admittedly, I wasn't usually a party animal either, but the vibe that Rush gave off was incredible - it was palpable in the air.

We joined the queue to go up first, and I took a moment to examine the other people who were waiting beside us. There were people from all spectrums of party; grungy indie dressers with Doc Martens and fishnet tights; upscale bar dressers in suits and dresses; nostalgic rave goers in all sorts of whacky outfits. The diversity stole my breath and quickened my pulse - this whole concept was revolutionary! Who would have thought!

The security guard took our tickets from Lena and scanned them with a high-tech looking device, then he proceeded to supply each of us with a wristband that glowed purple under the UV. "First two drinks are free," the guard said, "courtesy of Rush. After that you'll be billed to the card you bought the tickets with." He held up an unused wristband and pointed at the QR code on it. "Scan this to purchase drinks."

"Can't we pay with cash?" Lena asked indignantly, glaring at Jonah. I knew exactly what she was thinking: there's no way I'll pay for his drinks!

"If you wish," the guard shrugged. He tugged on a metal lever and a black corrugated metal door slammed open, admitting us through.

It was a short walk up a ramp where cars would usually have driven to reach the first part of the "house party". We were still in the part of the car park with no windows, but brightly coloured flashing lights spun in psychedelic patterns all over the walls and floor. True to their name, the whole of the first three levels epitomised house parties; there were sofas and chairs to sit on, tables where people sat drinking or played beer pong or cards or poker. There were even TVs with static screens to give the full effect.

After the first three levels, the next up was was simply called club - a scene more attuned to mine and Lena's tastes.

The air here was cooler, the music a little more varied than the simple house that played below. The dance floor was checkered and much of the walls had been covered by mirrors. Live DJs were playing on most levels.

"Let's get drinks!" Lena suggested, pulling me over to the bar that was nestled into the corner of the room. She shot her best flirtatious smile at the bartender, fluttering her lashes. "Two shots of vodka!"

"Woah," I interjected as the bartender grabbed two shot glasses. He raised a brow. "I can't do vodka shots."

Lena rolled her eyes. "Sure you can, you just -"

"Tequila!" I suggested eagerly, cutting her off. I gestured to the bartender for him to grab our drinks as he stared disbelievingly between us. I could tell he was inclined to go with Lena's original request (he'd been ogling her boobs since she'd reached the bar) but I shot him a glare that made him reconsider.

"If I die tonight," I proclaimed dramatically, holding up my shot, "I will hold you accountable!"

Lena rolled her eyes. "You're the one who wanted tequila."

"And you're the one who suggested shots!"

"Shut up and drink!" she laughed. "Three, two, one..."

We both downed our shots, the bitter alcohol burning down my chest ferociously. I didn't usually drink a lot - especially not liquor - because it tended to have a bad effect on me. Whereas usually I was calm, pacifistic and quiet, alcohol brought out a side of myself I wasn't very well acquainted with - the nasty side, the side that said whatever she thought and didn't give a damn about anyone's feelings. I avoided that part of me as often as I could, but tonight was different.

Tonight I needed a release.

While Lena ordered another round of shots, I dug my phone out of my clutch bag and checked that it was turned on. It was, of course. I turned it from silent to loudspeaker, with the volume the whole way up, then put it back in my bag. Two seconds later, I found myself retrieving it again - just to check I definitely had turned it off silent.

"I can't believe you still do that," Lena sighed, snatching my phone from my grip. She examined the screen. "Oh look, no notifications!"

I pulled it back out of her grip and locked it away in my bag. "Do what?" I mumbled.

"Check to see if he's called you." She handed me a shot. "Which, of course, he hasn't because he's an ass."

"Maybe he lost my number."

"Maybe he threw your number away," Lena responded sceptically. She threw back her second shot without a thought and I wished, in that moment, I could be as carefree as she was. She hardly dated, she always kept things simple and realistic and she never, never pined over anyone. No one walked all over her, because she didn't let them. Unlike me, who had spent the better part of two years waiting for a call from a stranger who may or may not have been a criminal.

I stressed the part where I thought he definitely probably was, though that still got me nowhere. I was still waiting, after all this time. I'd specifically kept the same phone number, just in case. Hell, I'd even been back to that same cafe on multiple occasions just in case he was there! I'd tried phone directories, Facebook, though it was near impossible to track someone down without so much as a surname.

Suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge to forget everything, I threw back my second shot of the evening and swore to myself I would have a good time. I would forget all about Alex and his handsome face, I would forget about the way his finger had grazed my cheekbone and felt like silk, I would forget about his promise and I would definitely forget about his gravelly voice, that hadn't stopped playing in my mind since the day we met...

"Stop thinking about him," Lena told me sternly. "And drink this." She handed me a large circular bowl of bright blue liquid that was twice as big as my head. There were sparklers and little cocktail umbrellas stuck in fruit around the top of it.

"What is this?" I demanded, hefting the large glass circle in my grip.

Lena shot me a grin that was wicked as sin. "It's a fishbowl," she purred, taking a sip from one of the straws. Her face screwed up from the volume of alcohol in it.

I was about to get very drunk, I realised.

And things were always interesting when I got wasted...

A/N Okay so I absolutely wish that Rush was a real club, I'd be so down! Alas, it's but a mere figment of my imagination...

SO. Two years later and no Alex...how are we feeling about that? What do you think about Jonah? (I hate him). But I do love Lena, she's the sort of best friend everyone needs!

Don't worry, our knight in shining Armani will soon return;)

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