Page 33 of Wedding Games
Josh, now wearing Zoe’s dress, grabbed her hand and pulled her into the middle of the dance floor. Sam had once taught Zoe the moves to the song, and it appeared that Josh also knew them. The crowd moved back as the two of them performed. Zoe was at the top of the rollercoaster. She was wasted but having the time of her life. Nothing could bring her down.
Until Josh started twerking.
The twerking was not so much the issue. What was a far bigger concern was that Zoe’s dress was barely covering his backside, and his penis and testicles were now on full display. When the shrieks of laughter alerted Josh to this fact, he pulled the hem to his navel and resumed his helicopter impression.
The crowd went wild.
Two enormous bouncers appeared.
The rest of the rugby team intervened and a fight broke out.
Fiona dragged Zoe away and they watched as the team made a break for it, running for the doors.
‘Your dress!’ yelled Zoe to Fiona.
‘Is okay, is okay,’ Fiona replied, swaying from side to side.
But Zoe was fixated on the fact that she needed to get it back. Still dressed in Josh’s t-shirt and kilt, his ginger moustache hanging half off, she stumbled after them.
She didn’t pay any attention to the cold air of the midnight street nor registered the quiet after the ear-ringing noise of the club. She had the messianic zeal that only the extremely drunk can achieve. The single-minded focus that enables someone barely able to string a sentence together to find a chip shop open at four a.m. on Titan.
She couldn’t see the men so took a chance and headed left.
‘Zoe! Wait!’
Up ahead was a crowd of people. Had she found them?
‘Gimme my dress back!’ she yelled as she approached with Fiona, Valentina, and Sam hot on her heels.
The group was a mixed bag. A young woman was sitting in a shop doorway, surrounded by male and female friends who looked far too young to be out on a school night. A small amount of blood was on the floor, and she was having her foot bandaged by a man wearing painter’s overalls. A policeman was standing next to them.
‘There you bloody are!’ Fiona yelled at the men. ‘You’re late!’ She turned to Zoe. ‘Finally! The stripper’s turned up!’
Zoe looked at the policeman. He was young, fit, and good-looking, but that didn’t mean she wanted to see his truncheon.
‘My name is PC Killen—’ he began.
‘And you’re going to make a “Killin” tonight with this horny hen!’ screamed Sam.
However, Zoe had reached her limit.
‘Noooo!’ she cried, launching herself at the policeman.
‘Zoe! What the fuck are you doing?’ yelled Fiona.
Zoe knocked his helmet off and attached herself to him like a limpet. ‘I don’t want to see your willy! Don’t take your clothes off!’
‘Off! Off! Off! Off!’ chanted Sam.
‘My name is PC—’ the man cried as he fell to the pavement with Zoe still attached.
‘Love truncheon!’ cried Sam. ‘And Zoe’s been a very naughty girl.’
‘Zoe! Get off him! That’s not the stripper!’ Fiona screamed.
But Zoe didn’t register anything. She was suddenly on her front, her arms behind her in handcuffs.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ screeched Sam, launching herself forward to help her friend. She tripped over Zoe, fell into PC Killen, then backwards to the pavement, holding her prosthetic nose.
