Shattered: A Shade novella by Jeri Smith-Ready Read Free Book Online Page B

the urge
to inch away.
    ‘There
must be something you miss about the States,’ he says.
    ‘You
mean besides my girlfriend?’
    He
glances at Martin without turning his head. ‘Is he serious or just winding me
up?’
    ‘I
told you Zach was my mate. That wasnae a euphemism.’
    ‘Why’s
he here, then?’
    ‘For
the music. And there’s nae chance he’ll cheat on his
girlfriend in this place.’
    ‘We’ll
see about that.’ Bright Eyes keeps his gaze locked with mine as he sips his
beer.
    My
face heats, but in a good way. Flirting will make me feel like myself again.
‘Am I in danger of distraction?’ I ask him.
    ‘Not
from us.’ He looks past my shoulder and tilts his chin up. ‘Those burds , maybe.’
    I
turn to see them entering, led by one in white lace, suspenders, and sequins. A
hen party, crashing the place. Well.
    They
parade past us to the other end of the bar, squealing and laughing. I crane my
neck to watch. After my incarceration, my eyes are hungry for all sorts of
beauty.
    Then
I return my attention to the lads, who regard me with dismay, except for Martin
who, as always, regards me with amusement.
    ‘Sorry,’
I tell them. ‘What were we talking about?’
    A new
song comes on, one I’ve not heard, and the blond lad closest to me says, ‘It’s
my favourite – ’ mon ,
Martin!’ My best mate looks back with concern as he’s dragged away, but I wave
him off.
    Bright
Eyes and Possibly-Robert share a glance, then look at me. I shake my head. ‘ Youse go on too. Maybe I’ll join you for the next.’
    I
stand alone by the bar watching the crowd on the dance floor, including –
okay, especially – the hen-party girls. My interest in them, however,
soon fades to annoyance. They were clearly pished out
of their minds before they arrived, and now they’re taking up more room than
groups of lads twice their size. The bride-to-be keeps whipping her long
sparkly veil into people’s faces as she spins. Those wee beads must sting on
impact.
    The
song changes to a slower, more sensuous tune. I avert my eyes from Martin and
his lad as they grind away at each other – not because it makes me
uncomfortable, but because Martin’s such an awful dancer, it’s a struggle not
to laugh.
    ‘Another Irn Bru ?’
    I
turn at the sound of the bartender’s voice, then follow his gaze to the empty
bottle in my hand. I’ve peeled off the entire label, which lies shredded at my
feet. Perhaps I’m more anxious than I thought.
    Enough
caffeine. ‘ Tennent’s this time,’ I tell him.
    He
hesitates, probably deciding whether to ask for my ID. Technically the drinking
age is eighteen, unless the drinker’s buying a meal, which I’m not.
    ‘Please,’
I add with a smile I hope doesn’t look desperate. My personal charms are rusty,
to say the least.
    ‘Of
course.’ He flips a pint glass and grins at me as he moves to the tap. I watch
the pale lager fill the glass and suddenly remember that all my meds say DO NOT CONSUME ALCOHOL . But one pint
shouldn’t hurt, right?
    ‘What
are you doing here?’
    I
turn to see a ginger-blonde nearly my height and perhaps a few years older. Her
dark green dress plunges deep at her neck and rises high on her thighs.
    I
self-consciously kick aside the pile of Irn Bru -label remnants. ‘I could ask you the same question.’
    ‘This
place has got the best DJ in the city, they say. And Corrine – that’s our
bride – she just wanted to dance and not be molested by lads who think
she’s out for one last secret shag.’ As she speaks, she slides a fingertip just
inside her dress’s neckline, her red nails reflecting the lurid bar light as
they descend. ‘So what’s yer excuse for coming?’
    I
lean my elbow on the bar, feigning casualness. ‘What makes you think I don’t
belong here?’
    ‘You’re
the first lad tonight who’s looked through my clothes instead of at them.’
    I
glance away. ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘I’m
not.’ She shifts closer, inside my personal