Unbroken, Chapter two part one

I don't give a damn 'bout my bad reputation

You're living in the past

It's a new generation

And I only feel good

When I got no pain

And that's how I'm gonna stay

And I don't give a damn

'Bout my bad reputation.’   Joan Jett and the Blackhearts – Bad Reputation.

It’s cold out and I can feel my hair frizzing in the breeze so I tie it back with the elastic band I keep around my wrist for emergencies just like this.   My phone buzzes in my pocket and I retrieve it to see a text from Niamh, telling me to meet her at the bus stop.

I get there ten minutes later, after having stopped in the corner shop to buy a miniature whiskey. The alcohol helps to warm me.  Niamh’s sitting alone, her legs stretched out in front of her.  Her hair is wavy as usual but she’s back combed it too, giving it twice as much volume.  Her eyes look almost black under the street lights and the glitter on her eyelids sparkles in the dim glow.   I smile to myself when I see the heels she’s wearing.

“I give it a half hour before you take them off and ask to swap shoes.”

Niamh grins at me as I reach her and sit down.  The area’s dead.  There’s no-one else brave enough to be out in this freezing weather.  The houses across the road look abandoned with the lights off and curtains drawn.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks, applying mascara using the back of her phone as a mirror.  It’s a pretty good job for someone who leaves everything to the last minute.

“It means you’re a grumpy drunk.”  I laugh, nodding towards the vodka bottle she’s got balanced between her knees.

“Want some?”

I grab the bottle without a second thought and take a swig, feeling the familiar burning sensation as it slides down my throat.

 “You can have the rest of it,” she says.  “I drank most of it on the way over.”

I laugh after swallowing another large mouthful.  “Lightweight.”

She frowns at me before standing up.  Her heels click on the pavement as she walks to the kerb.  She’s wearing her favourite baggy cardigan; the one that looks just like my nan’s.  I told her this the day I met her but she still wears it.  She obviously doesn’t care what I think and that’s why I love her so much.

“I just don’t wanna puke up before I’ve got inside.”

“Good point,” I say, setting the almost empty bottle on the floor before I join her at the kerb.

She holds out her hand to me and I take it so we can cross the road together.   Once we reach the pavement I drop her hand and wipe my own along my leggings. 

“Man, your hand’s all sweaty,” I say.  “Are you nervous or something?”

Niamh bites down on her lip before moving to suck her lip ring.  It’s a habit of hers.

“Maybe.”  She shrugs.  “Do you reckon Drew will be there?”

“Isn’t he always on a Friday night?”

Niamh smiles.  “He’s such a babe though.”

The whiskey and  vodka has given me a light buzz and I swing an arm around Niamh’s shoulders, knocking her bag.  She laughs before pushing the strap back up her arm.

“You know who is a babe,” I say, waggling my eyebrows at her.  “Chace Milligan.”

Niamh stops, pulling me to a halt too.  “Oh yes.”

We both share matching grins and start walking again.

“He was on TV when I left.  God his eyes make me melt.”

“You’re in l-o-v-e,” Niamh chants gleefully.  “The girl with the heart made of stone is in love.”

She’s shouting now and I move my hand from her shoulder so I can clamp it over her mouth instead.  It’s the alcohol, I’m not really in love.  She giggles from behind my hand and I suddenly realise that nineteen year olds do giggle.  But only when they’re tipsy.

“Because I know it’ll never happen,” I inform her, sounding cynical.

Niamh stops laughing and pushes my hand from her face.  She’s wearing a frown underneath.

I ignore her and reach up to tighten my ponytail as we find the back of the small queue lining up outside of Dexter’s.   The area doesn’t seem so dead anymore.  The bright lights of the club shine onto the pavement, lighting up the faces of all the people outside.  It’s loud with laughter and chatter.  I can smell cigarette smoke and alcohol and perfume.  Way too much cheap perfume.  I wrinkle my nose.  I recognise a few people waiting outside, but no-one I really care enough about to bother saying hello to.  They’re all posers.  People who only care about where they’re seen  and who they’re seen with. 

I feel a hand on my arm and turn to see Niamh rolling her eyes at me.  Her eyes are huge compared to the rest of her face.  She reminds me of a doll with delicate features; a small nose and pouty lips.  Being half Spanish her tan skin only makes her stand out even more.  I look horribly ordinary standing next to her.   

“Maybe we can go to London one day.  Stalk him?”

I smile, watching a car pull up alongside the club.  “Sure.  I should probably get another job first though.  You know, so I can pay for a train ticket there.”

“And back?”

I snort.  “There’s nothing for me here.  Except Mum, but I’ll ring her every day, just to make sure Declan isn’t getting away with too much.”

It’s always when we’re drunk that we come up with crazy plans to travel.  Last time, a few nights ago, we’d agreed to save up for a trip to Mexico.  God knows how we decided to go there, but it isn’t going to happen so it doesn’t matter.

“Oh my god,” Niamh says, sounding suddenly breathless and I know why.  The driver’s door of the car that’s pulled up opposite the club entrance, is opening.  Seconds later, Drew steps out.  The atmosphere seems to heighten as the girls in the queue start flicking their hair and whispering to each other.  Niamh’s doing the same, muttering under her breath and checking her lipstick in the mirror of the van behind Drew’s car.

I sigh as I watch her getting flustered.  She’s trying to poof her hair with one hand and spray perfume with the other.

Drew’s only in view for a short moment before he enters the club.  I can hear the girls standing in front of me, gushing about his sexy hair and trying to decide whether his gold chain is real or not.

The queue begins to move again and Niamh returns to my side, looking a tiny bit dejected.  Tiny being a massive understatement.

“I like your dress,” I say, noticing the little black number that she’s squeezed herself into.  Not that she actually had to try.  She’s a bean pole, really.  Straight up, straight down.  Not like me.  The curse of curses runs in my family.

Niamh offers me a huge smile.  “Why thank you,” she replies in an awful attempt at a posh accent.  “It’s designer.

I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

“No.  But we can pretend , okay?”

We both burst into another fit of giggles just as we reach the front of the queue.  I can hear the music pounding from behind the closed double doors and a rush of excitement flows through me.

“Ladies.”  Spencer, the burly bouncer separating us from the party, holds his hand out with a gruff smile.

Niamh and I surrender our entry fee to him before he steps out of our way, inviting us inside.

“And be good this time, hey Riot?”

I’m halfway down the stairs when I turn around.  Spencer’s giving me a serious look, but I know he’s only saying what he’s been told to say.  Really, he loves it when I get into trouble.  It gives him something to do.

“I’m on my best behaviour,” I reply with a wink.  “As always.”

Niamh’s already gone on inside and I find her at the bar.  She’s ordering the barman to line shot glasses in front of her and I smile when I see the way she’s twirling her hair in a flirty manner.  She’s recovered from Drew-gate already. Tonight’s going to be fun.

Dexter’s is the only decent bar/ club around this area, which is why there’s always a queue.  They play alternative rock and indie music.  Pop punk and metal.  They even throw in some dub step towards the end of the night but I’m usually so far gone by then that it all sounds like noise anyway.

The drinks are cheap here and Niamh waves a hand at me as I reach for the money in my pocket.

“We’re celebrating, remember?” she says with a mischievous grin as she leans towards me so I can hear her over the music.  One of my favourite songs is playing, which only adds to my happy mood.

“Cheers,” I shout, raising a shot glass full of purple liquid to my lips. 

We both down the drinks at the same time and come up with a grimace.

“Again,” she says, thrusting another shot my way.  This time it’s a red liquid that I swallow in one.

“Man,” I say, my eyes on the vacant chairs and tables dotted around the outside of the room.  “This place is empty.  Even the booths are free.”  My lips are inches from Niamh’s face and I can smell the vodka on her breath and her perfume.  It’s a mixture of sweet and sour.

“It’s early,” she replies.  “Besides, there’s more room on the dance floor.”

We drink the last of the shots and I suddenly realise, when I amble to the small dance floor, that the last injection of alcohol has gone straight to my head.  And my legs.

I laugh to myself as I sway to the music.  I like this song too.

“Hey, Riot!”

I spin around, which isn’t a good idea in my current state, but I hold onto the wall to stay upright. Once my eyes are focused again I smile at the person next to me.

“Hey, Drew.”

He’s making his way over to the DJ booth and I follow him, dragging Niamh along behind me and then positioning her beside me so that Drew has no choice but to notice her.  I smirk as I notice a group of girls giving us deathly glares from the other side of the room.

“Hey, Niamh,” he says, a smile spreading across his face.

Niamh grips my hand harder.

“Hi, Drew!”

The music’s almost unbearably loud next to the speakers and we’re all shouting to be heard over the drums and the guitar.

“What you playing next then?” I ask, squinting to see him as the spot lights blink on and off in front of my face.  Niamh’s still clutching my arm but she’s gone quiet.  She’s the biggest loudmouth any other time, but when she’s around a hot guy, especially one she likes, she goes mute.  A bit like me, when I’m not full of vodka.

Drew reaches up to scratch the dark stubble on his chin, the lights glinting off his studded belt when his shirt lifts above the waistband of his skinny jeans.

“Some New Found Glory?  Paramore?”

“Papa Roach,” I offer. 

He nods.  “Good choice.”

We’ve got just enough time to move back into the centre of the dance floor where more people seem to have gathered, a lot of them Drew-ogling girls, before the song I’ve requested starts blaring out of the speakers.

I close my eyes against the room and pump my hand in the air every time the guitar screams out.  I only open them when the song has finished and I see others have done the same.   The small room, probably no bigger than your average lounge, is suddenly swarming with people and I grin. 

“Niamh?”

She’s not beside me and I panic for a second before I spot her at the bar talking to the same barman as last time.  He’s lining up more shot glasses.

“Don’t you think we should slow it down?” I ask.  My ears are buzzing and if I move too quickly the room starts to spin.  The photo prints on the wall won’t stay still but when I blink hard they stop moving, as do the posters and flyers behind the DJ booth.

“But I’m not drunk enough yet.”

On a normal drunk-o-meter, we’re both over halfway, but I know that Niamh needs to be a little higher on the board if she’s going to have the guts to speak to Drew.  She’s watching him with a frown as girls storm the DJ booth, wanting their own little piece of Drew.

“Okay, one more,” I reason.  “And then we’re dancing again.”

Author's note - So this is where you get to see a bit more of Sadie and Niamh and what they're like.  The whole 'Riot' thing started kind of by accident, but I like it, so I hope it works.  The piece is rated to be on the safe side, for language and alcohol.

Edit - I've added in some more descriptions, mostly about Drew and Niamh.  Please let me know if you think it works or not.  I'm not sure if it's in danger of becoming info-dumpy.

Thanks for reading and I'd love to hear your opinions.

xDudettex