* * *
I’d never imagined taking drugs with people from work, but then I’d never imagined working with people who took drugs; I guess it would only be a problem if they didn’t and they found out you did. I made sure to get some speed to go with the pills I would be taking with me, a night on just ecstasy would probably involve lying down somewhere at three in the morning, no use in a club that shut at six. I wanted to make sure it went perfect. The only potential flaw in the plan was not inviting Kyle. I knew I should have asked him first, I just felt I’d be more comfortable with Al there and I didn’t want to take two people, bearing in mind Tamara and Warren had initially only invited me. Fortunately Kyle had to work, although I didn’t make it easy for him by not asking him until two days before, and even then checking to see if he was free at the weekend before I told him where I was off to. I promised myself I’d take him to the next one. Then I promised myself that wasn’t a lie.
When the Saturday finally came we took a taxi to Warren and Tamara’s flat in Carlton. I rang the intercom and rather than letting me up, everyone came downstairs to leave with me. There were only three of them.
“Are we meeting the other bloke on the way?” I asked.
Warren laughed, “He’s not coming now. The twat was on it all last night, he didn’t get to sleep until lunchtime today. This isn’t the first time he’s not been able to wait one more day before getting mashed.”
So it was just the pair I already knew, and Natalie, who I could just make out in the dark was another skinny brunette. Unusual in a town where blonde, natural or not, was the norm. Those of us who hadn’t met before introduced ourselves, then we headed towards the train station; with an hour journey in front of us it made sense to get it out of the way. I could have easily had a beer in one of Carlton’s pubs first to calm the pre-rave nerves. As a compromise we stopped at an off-license to get some drinks for the train so we’d have more time to explore the bars in London.
The Liverpool Street train arrived at the same time we did, and in the full light of the carriage I got a chance to take a proper look at the newest member of our gang. I realised I liked her a lot.
“So where you from?” Natalie asked me. In the background I could hear Al begin chatting to Warren and Tamara.
“Kirk-Leigh,” I replied. “You?”
“Mansbury. Have you heard of it?” She took a bottle of fizzy blue alcoholic drink and started looking through her handbag for a bottle opener. I took the bottle from her and she cringed when she thought I was going to open it with my teeth. She was suitably impressed when I used my lighter levered against my thumb.
“Yeah. It’s not that far from Kirk-Leigh is it,” I said.
“So you met Tamara and Warren at work then?” Natalie asked.
“Yeah. What about you, how did you meet Tamara?”
“The same, through work. The last place Tamara worked”
“Oh we’ve got something in common then.”
She smiled a yes at me. For someone who normally found it as difficult to talk to girls as I did, I thought I was doing quite well. I looked over and Tamara was smiling too. I wondered if she’d planned to set us up all along. Well done her if that was the case, but then what about the other bloke who was supposed to be coming? Maybe I was just a last minute replacement for him on this double date. Or maybe he’d never existed at all and they’d invented him to trick me into coming along. I much preferred the sound of that last possibility.
Natalie slowly ran her fingers through her long hair, the ultraviolet yellow paint on her nails contrasting perfectly against the dark auburn backdrop.
“So have you been raving before?”
I laughed, tinged with a cocky snigger, “Loads of times.”
“Oh yeah, which ones? Have you been to Bagleys before?”
“No, first time tonight.”
“What about Fabric?”
“Not been to Fabric either. This is the first time I’ve been out in London.”
“You must have been to The Sanctuary?”
“What in Milton Keynes?”
“Yes.” Her eyes lit up.
“Not been there either.”
“Where have you been?”
This shouldn’t have been a hard question, but it was. It took me a moment to come up with an answer.
“I went to a rave in a barn once where there was an aeroplane.”
“Where was that?”
“I’m not sure. In a field somewhere.”
“How many arenas were there?” she asked. “There are five at Bagleys tonight.”
“Er....one. Well it wasn’t really an arena. It was just a barn, there were a few hundred people there, if that. I don’t even know who was DJing.”
“Aww,” she cooed at me, “so this will be your first proper rave.” She reached out with her warm hand and pinched my cheek, gripping it and jiggling the skin; then smiled again as she looked me dead in the eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.”
We chatted together as a fivesome for the rest of the journey, Natalie and I opposite each other on the green fabric benches next to the window; with Warren sat next to me and Tamara facing him. Al had a chair to himself on the other side of the isle. We asked each other the things you’re supposed to ask: Have you always lived around here? What school did you go to? Have you got any brothers or sisters? Questions with answers that tell you everything about the person you’re talking to, without actually telling you anything about the person themselves. It was a struggle sometimes for me to have a normal conversation, and I hadn’t even started on the drugs yet.
We soon pulled into Liverpool Street station.
“What are they like at Bagleys with searching you and that?” I asked.
“Oh they’re really strict there mate,” Warren replied.
“What are you doing with yours then, putting them in your sock?”
“Nah I’ve seen the bouncers make people take their shoes and socks off.”
“How am I supposed to get my gear in there then?”
“Dunno mate, think of somewhere they won’t search you.” Warren slowly smiled at me as he talked; my night darkened as I realised what he was suggesting.
I spotted the station toilets. “Wait here two minutes.”
Then I looked at Al. He shrugged his shoulders before following me in. On the third attempt I found a cubicle with a toilet that wasn’t filled with chocolate milkshake. I heard the door to the next cubicle along shut too.
“Al?”
“Yeah.”
“Just checking it was you.”
Reaching into what people who have sex would call the condom pocket in their jeans, I pulled out my supply for the night. Two pills wrapped in a piece of paper and a gram of speed in a small clear plastic bag. I contemplated the moral implications of what I was about to do. I had decided I’d want the whole package to be as small as possible, throwing the paper in the toilet and putting the pills in the same bag as the speed. If I was happy for them to mix with each other in my stomach then I should be happy with them being mixed together now. Then I turned my attention to the little plastic bag, so easily lost; how far should I put it in? Surely there was no need to insert it, just clenching it between my cheeks should suffice. Even if it would mean walking to the club like a six foot tall penguin. I dropped my trousers to my knees, followed by my boxers. If only I’d been wearing briefs I thought, I could have just tucked the package in. Too late now, a lesson learned for next time. Then I realised something else; when I get in the club and retrieve the package it is going to have spent time somewhere not nice. I needed to wrap it in toilet paper so that the paper could be discarded when I got in the club, meaning the little plastic bag would be OK to put back in my pocket. I looked down and was greeted by an empty cardboard toilet roll tube staring back at me.
“Al.”
“Yeah?”
“Is there any toilet paper in your cubicle?”
“No.”
r /> For fuck’s sake. Pull your boxers up, then your jeans. Put the bag back in your pocket, find a cubicle with toilet paper, take a handful, come back to this cubicle, and start again.
“Fuck this,” I mouthed to myself as a disinterest with the whole situation came over me, and poured the whole night’s worth of drugs in my mouth. The speed came out first, building a little white hill on my tongue, followed by the tablets that hesitated until I shook them; where I’d not fully opened the seal on the top of the bag. As soon as I came out of the toilets I grabbed the fizzy blue drink out of Natalie’s hand and washed the whole lot down.
“Sorted,” I said.
“Yeah?” Warren asked me.
“Yeah mate,” I laughed. “Well fucking sorted.”
Warren led the way through the maze that is the London Underground, taking us to the Metropolitan line, where we managed to get our own carriage on the tube train. Four stops later we arrived in King’s Cross and he and Tamara took us to a bar they knew from last time they’d had a night out here.
The girls went to the toilets together while Al and Warren helped me with the first round of drinks.
“So what do you think of Natalie then?” Warren asked me.
“Seems nice mate, bit out of my league though I reckon.”
“I dunno, she seems pretty keen on you. If I get a chance to talk to Tamara on her own I’ll ask her what she thinks.”
“She might just be talking to me to be polite.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself mate,” Warren said. “If she really wanted to she could have spent her time talking to Tamara and left me, you and Al to chat alone.”
I didn’t want to get my hopes up but a bit of me hoped he was right.
“I think you should listen to Warren,” Al added. “I’ve been watching her, she’s hardly taken her eyes off you.”
“What can I get you?” Warren asked.
“Nah I’m getting these in like I said,” I replied.
Warren laughed, “I didn’t say anything mate.
“What?”
“What can I get you to drink?” I looked to the left of me and there was the barman, stood impatiently, while either side of us at the bar stood other people waiting to be served.
My mind had wandered. “Stella please mate,” I said in what sounded like someone else’s voice. I wasn’t sure if all of my mind had wandered back.
“Anything else?” Of course there was something else, the four of us weren’t going to share the same drink all night. Fuck knows what it was though, I wasn’t even sure if the Stella was for me, it was only the fact that it seemed such a familiar thing to say in this situation.
Warren helped me out, “Three pints of Stella, a Bacardi and lemonade, and a vodka and Coke. Please.”