Page 28 of The Tape Job
By the time I’m dressed and ready to go, I’ve composed myself enough.
When we get to the bar, I spot the rest of the team at some tables towards the back. Ryan’s got Jen sitting on his lap. She has her lips pressed right up to his ear and she’s whispering something that he’s glad to be hearing because he’s beaming.
I slide into the seat next to Jani and help myself to some beer from a pitcher in the middle of the table, swigging from my glass while I people watch.
“You okay?” Ryan says, coming to sit on the other side of me.
“Surprised you could pry yourself away,” I flash.
“Be careful tonight, Lee. Last thing you want is to feel like shit tomorrow,” he warns.
But he knows I’m not really paying attention. I’m on edge, waiting to see if Vicky shows up. Every single hint of blonde hair has my heart skipping until I realise it’s not her.
“Can you let me out? I need a stronger drink,” I say, nudging him with my leg.
He follows me over to the bar, and it doesn’t take long for us to get some attention.
“You’re the hockey players!” A blonde, who’s definitely not Vicky, says.
She’s wearing a teal-coloured miniskirt and a black tank top that makes her boobs look huge, but all it does is make me think of Vicky’s tits.
“Sure,” I say dismissively before giving my order to the barkeep.
“Can I get a selfie?”
Neither Ryan nor I reply, but she calls her friend over and they’re whispering excitedly about us being twins. It’s all stuff we’ve heard before albeit not in a very long time. But before I know it, she’s pulling my arm around her shoulder, pressing herself into me and snapping a photo. I snatch my arm away and look around for Ryan, who appears to be fighting a similar battle.
The girl is chirping on at me, and I’m not really listening to what she’s saying. There’s a bit of a crowd forming. All women with the aspiration to touch my arm and slide close for a photo. I bet half of them don’t even know why they’re swarming around.
I make eyes with Bettsy, who saunters over, smiling widely and showing off his false teeth.
“Someone’s popular,” he says. Then he makes a show of trying to join in whatever the hell this is.
“Come and dance with me,” one woman says, pulling at Ryan’s sleeve, but he slinks away behind a fresh wave of bar revellers, leaving me to fend for myself. The woman’s attention shifts to me.
“I don’t dance,” I say bluntly, taking a sip of the whiskey that’s placed on the bar in front of me. But she’s all over me, and it makes me feel damn uncomfortable.
“Come on!” she says, toying with my jacket.
“Come and dance, mate,” Bettsy says, nudging me into the crowd.
I don’t know how he manages it, but I find myself in the middle of a crowd of dancing women, trying their hardest to grind themselves against me. The blonde from earlier pushes her back into me and leans forward to rub her ass into my crotch. It’s so crowded I can’t pull away enough. She spins around and wraps her arms around my neck. I don’t know if she is moving into kiss me, but I can’t move away quickly enough, as a precaution, because the thought of kissing anyone that’s not Vicky turns my stomach. I’m notproud to admit that I’ve never been able to kiss anyone else. When I’ve slept with other girls, it’s been strictly no kissing, like something out of Pretty-fucking-Woman.
I wriggle free and head back towards the bar, ordering a fresh drink before making my way back to where Ryan and Jen sit. Then I’m back on Vicky watch, my eyes glued to the door like a love-sick puppy. But she’s not here, and as much as I don’t want to care, I find myself completely invested in her whereabouts.
I glance around for Johnny, half tempted to ask him if he knows where she is, but he’s nowhere to be seen either.
“Where did Johnny go?” I lean over and shout at Ryan, but he shrugs, clearly too loved-up to give a shit.
I pull my phone out and check my messages, but it’s only the usual group chat stuff and the odd message from a few of the guys back home.
“Hey, mate, do you want to skip going to Johnny’s and go to that place across the street with my new friends?” Bettsy’s crouching down to talk into my ear, some brunette pulling on his arm, but I’m not even a little tempted.
“Aww, Vicky just texted to say she’s not coming,” Jen says to Ryan; I catch it on the edge of my hearing, the music drowning out most of the other conversation, and I’ve never felt so disappointed in my life.
My first thought is to go home and dig out my clips of Vicky, but I down my drink and stand up, putting my arm around Bettsy’s shoulders.
“Let’s go,” I say, and we make our way out of the bar.
