Ahead of the Darkness (3 page)

“Go on then.”

And just like that, I was in.

The bar was like nothing I had ever seen before, and I had worked in a few places. It looked like an old warehouse had been completely stripped and refitted.

When I walked in, the first thing I noticed was how long the space seemed. That, and the mass of bodies. The walls were covered in what looked like black cement, the floors, a rich, dark wood, mahogany perhaps. The few windows had been completely blacked out with paint, allowing only the golden warmth the long hanging light bulbs created. They hung from thick black cables that disappeared somewhere among the dark rafters, seeming as if they floated above your head. Huge three-and four-seater cushions of all different shapes and rich colours hugged three of the four walls. Not one of them was empty. The fourth wall at the far end bordered small stage and DJ booth. A man played the thrumming beats. More tall tables and bar stools were further in the room surrounding the wide space, but in the centre, the pièce de résistance, was the bar itself. It was, for lack of a better word, amazing.

I wormed my way through the throng of thrashing bodies to get a better look. It was a massive rectangular shape, longer at the front and back with shorter sides. It was possibly bigger than my room at Anne’s. The granite bar top went all the way around, caging in the staff. No stools, though— sitting at the bar was clearly not an option. In the centre, blocking off the view of the other side was every possible bottle of alcohol you could imagine, times two. The mirrored backdrop reflected the low-hung lights, turning the bottles into glowing pieces of art, all the multi-coloured liqueurs glowing.

I walked around to confirm that it was replicated on the other side, and that’s when I saw him. The guy from the gym. I quickly moved back into the crowd before he could see me and watched from afar. The image I had in my head from when I had first, but rather briefly, laid eyes on him did him no justice. I hadn’t realised how very tall he was until seeing him towering over everyone else. A good head taller than the rest of the staff, he looked at least 6’1”.

What I had originally thought was thick, golden chocolate-brown hair seemed almost black in the dimly lit club. His face was much more masculine than I remembered, with a strong, almost hard jaw. His eyes lacked the mischievous twinkle I'd seen but there was still a hint of amusement, most likely from all the drunken trollops throwing themselves at him. His full pink lips were in a perpetual smirk as he flirted shamelessly with them. Yet, there was no sign of his playful dimples. I frowned at my mistake, they didn’t exist.

I gave up on my perusal when I realised his white button-up shirt hid his form a little too well. The rolled up sleeves and thin black tie were a nice touch, though, and I couldn’t help but compare the carefree guy from the gym to the more professional bar guy. Both were equally dreamy, and together were a little much.

With all the warm bodies around me, I felt hot and sweaty. Well that was what I told myself at least. I steeled myself off in preparation and headed to the bar for a much needed drink. It wasn’t like he would remember me. I really needed to stop lying to myself.

“Aye, what’ll it be, then?” His eyes grew wide as recognition hit him. The dimple I’d thought imaginary wasn’t, after all. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s arse. If it isn’t the wee lass from the gym. I dinnae fancy seeing ye here, like.” His eyes slowly travelled the length of my dress, all the way down to my toes. His height gave him the perfect advantage and my body broke out in gooseflesh. I felt a little exposed, and vulnerable.

“You have quite a collection here.”
Get it together, A. It’s just a boy, a tall, Scottish boy, who’s looking at you, quizzically.
“Yes, that was me. I am not usually so, clumsy. I apologise, again, for falling on you.”
Twice ...

“Aye, it was nae bother like. I’m glad I was there to catch ye. The name’s Drew. Ye’re new round these parts, aye?”

“Yes. I just moved here, today to be precise.” I mumbled.

“Do ye have a name to go with yer pretty face?”

“Yes... Amelia.”
MERDE!
“I mean, um, Mia. No one calls me that ... Not since I was six... Mia, just Mia.”

“Well alright, just Mia, what’s yer poison?”

“Oh, I, hmmm, rum?”

“White rum? How do you like?”

“Simple, I guess. Rum and coke.” His dimple winked at me again as he made my 'poison’.

“This club, it is something else.”

“Aye, it took a while to get here, like, but now it’s the only place the folk wanna be.”

“You work here full-time?”

“Ye could say that.”

“Oh.”
Vague.

“There ye go, doll face.”

“Thank you.” I fumbled with my cash as I handed it to Drew. His fingers sent shivers through my hand as they touched. I smiled what I hoped, was sweetly and walked off, leaving him with my change. Twice in one day, but at least this time was a little more polite.

I found an empty table and watched the crowd dance to the thumping beats. It was hard to fight the urge to watch Drew as he worked, but every time I looked over at him he was either looking at me already, or caught me looking at him.

I finally had enough of the who-looked-first game, downed my drink and headed into the crowd. I used to love to dance, lose myself in the music and just feel. It was one of the only times I let myself go, especially in public, but with a crowd like this, no one watched you. Everyone was just in his or her own world, dancing to the thick beat.

It took me a little while to be able to let go, and I decided I needed more liquid courage to be able to fully enjoy myself. I weaved my way through to the other side of the bar where a short blond girl was taking orders. I wouldn't be distracted and flustered here.

Three rum and cokes later, I was letting lose on the floor. The rhythm was smooth and inviting, the way it wound through my limbs and out on the floor, stopping me from thinking, and letting me just feel. I felt every drum beat, every piano key, and every lyric as they weaved their way through my body and out my lips, humming and thrumming my way through the night.

It wasn't until my fifth drink I realised I’d been drinking on an empty stomach. I had been so mad when I left the gym that I’d forgotten to go to the supermarket and opted for a calming bath instead. The alcohol was hitting me hard and I’d lost track of time with a dead mobile as my only source.

In my lack-of-food induced drunken state, I thought enough time had been spend successfully avoided Drew’s gaze and that small talk would be a brilliant idea.

“Hello again, doll face. Ye dinnae like the way I made ye rum ‘n’ coke?”

“Huh? I can’tee understand yar, like”

He laughed, shaking his head at me. “Aye, that was terrible. How much have ye had to drink, lass?”

“Oh, you know, it’s all your fault. I’ve only had five... um no six, six rums and cokes, but I’m not a light-weight. At least, I think I’m not. I never used to be. I blame you for distracting me from eating.”

His laugh was thick and sent shivers down my spine. I could almost feel it vibrate from his chest. He grinned, shaking his head again, and slid me a glass of water. I had the small amount of sense left to keep my mouth closed, smiled weakly and took the glass. I drank it in one go while looking around at the now almost-empty club.

“Thank you ...”

“Drew. Ye're welcome Amel ... Mia.”

The sound of my name on his tongue did funny things to my head. I nodded quickly and scurried off before I could say anything else stupid.

I stumbled out into the cool night air. I had never been so glad for my ballet flats then at that moment, otherwise I would have definitely been arse over teakettle. I stupidly spent fifteen minutes trying to find my mobile in my little clutch. Giving up, I crumbled to the curb and dropped my phone as I sat. It had been in my hand the whole time.

Groaning, I picked it up only to discover it was completely dead and wouldn’t turn on.
Merde, I broke my phone! Oh ... wait.
I remembered a little too late that it had been dead for most of the night. I had no idea what the time was, and then it really hit me. I had no idea where I was and how to get back to Anne’s house. The address was saved on my phone. I groaned again loudly, and threw my head in my lap.

I couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid. Placing my hands on either side of me to push up to a standing position, a firm hand gripped my shoulder. I completely skitzed out, jumping up and spinning around much too quickly. The alcohol fuelling my body did nothing for my momentum and I tripped over my feet, twisting my ankle at the same time.

“Merde.”
Shit.
I had a terrible habit of swearing in French, especially when drunk.

That time I did go kettle over tea-cup, landing once again less than elegantly on my arse. Whatever mortification I had felt earlier in the day was nothing to what I felt at that moment when the gym/bar guy reached out his hand to me again.

“Ye really need to stop makin’ a habit of falling for me. Ye'll give me a big head like, and I might get the wrong impression.”

“You scared the living hell out of me! Who does that to a girl? Sitting by herself, in the middle of the...street.” I trailed off, realising how stupid I sounded. I reached for his outstretched hand and started to lift myself up, but as soon as my twisted foot hit the pavement I screamed and fell back on my arse.

“Baiser!” My eyes widened and my hand flew to cover my mouth. He almost doubled over with laughter.

“Did ye just say fuck, in French? And to think I thought ye were all prim and proper like.” He mock shook his head at my profanity.

“Bloody hell. Can you stop laughing at me for five minutes and help me up. LIKE.”

“Aye, dinnae get ye knickers in a wad, I’ll get ye from behind.” I couldn’t help the giggle-snort that came out at the comment.
Stupid drunk brain.

I could almost hear the smirk on his face as he slowly put his hands around my waist. He leant in, his rich scent making me dizzier, his warm breath tickled my ear as he whispered, “Don’t put pressure on the ankle. I’ve got you.” And he did.

His strong hands around my waist lifted me up, surprising me at how effortless it felt as he manoeuvred me on to my good foot.

“Now, I’m going to call ye a taxi. Ye do live near here, aye?”

“Yes, but I don’t know the address. It’s on my dead phone.” I showed him the proof of that statement.

“Aye, what am I to do with ye?”

“Leave me in the gutter?” I giggled drunkenly, forgetting again not to put pressure on my damaged foot. I staggered back into his chest— his very hard, warm chest.

“I cannae do that, love. So here’s what ye gonna do. I’m gonna take ye to my place, and we’ll charge ye phone up, turn her on and call ye a taxi. What say ye? I promise nae to molest ye.”

“I...”

I looked around and realised we were mostly alone, with only a few possible crazies lurking on the dark streets. With a busted foot, I wasn’t likely to get too far or go too fast. I didn’t really have much of an option, seeing as my alcohol-drowned brain couldn’t remember where I bloody lived.

“Is it far...?”

“Nae, it's only a block away, but I’ll help ye walk. Or carry ye, if I must. Ye dinnae look that heavy like.”

I had to snort at that. I had meat and a fair amount of muscle at 5’8” wasn’t that small, but my already messy head would not have handled him carrying me for any length of time.

“I’ll risk it and walk...thanks. You don’t look
that
strong. The last thing I need is for you to drop me on my drunken head. Somehow, I doubt that will help me remember where I live.”

He laughed, presumably at my stupidity, while shifting to my right side, never taking his left arm off me, as if I were made of glass and would break. He lifted my right arm over his shoulder and placed my hand around his neck, rendering him my personal crutch. I looked up at him, slightly confused as to how this would work logistically with the height difference.

“Walk with yer left leg and I will support your right, aye. Just put all your weight on me.”

“O...kay”

I stepped forward with my left and leaned into him with most of my weight as I moved my right foot, trying to put as little pressure on it as I could but it was still too much, and before I could steal myself off from the pain he noticed my wince. In a spit second he had swivelled me around behind him, ducked down and grabbed behind my knees and hoisted me up onto his back, only knocking my foot once. I squealed and flung my arms tightly around his neck.

“Aye, love, dinnae choke me. I nae gonna drop ye. I got ye.” And he did.

––––––––

T
he intense aroma of coffee woke me from a rare, dreamless sleep. I stretched and immediately closed my eyes against the throbbing in my head. I buried my face in the pillow. A subtle manly smell washed over me. I breathed it in deeply, then bolted up right. The earth-shattering head spin that came with moving so fast made me moan.

“Aye, Sleeping Beauty stirs. Do ye want some coffee?”

A slightly familiar voice yelled from somewhere on the other side of the door, and I noticed the soft hum of music.
Gym/bar guy??
I looked down and found myself tangled on a massive, black-suede king bed, completely naked.
Ah, merde!
I quickly pulled the sheet to my chin and scanned the room.

The walls were made of old, dirty reddish-brown bricks. Some looked like the cement had been sanded or chiselled off, giving them a sort of rustic beauty. There was minimal furniture, just a large black leather chair, shoe rack, two single shelved round bedside tables, a chest of drawers, and a wardrobe. They were all a deep-cherry almost-black wood. The floor was a nice touch; white-grey wood that made the simple space seem much larger than it was, and contrasted well with the dark furniture. It was all so clean and stylish— too clean and stylish for a guy. There wasn't one thing out of place
.

I couldn't help but hope I hadn't been kidnapped buy some crazy OCD clean freak, or wound up in a magazine spread. I dismissed the first thought as quickly as it came. The crazy ones wouldn’t work at a bar, they’d get too sticky. I hoped, at least.