Short Story from Mick Donnellan – “Disco.”

She came into the room and nearly knocked me dead. Legs‚ hair‚ all that. Some party. Full of clowns and bad drink. But at least there was her. Tried to talk her and she gave me a look that said: Are ya fuckin serious?
I was.
But I didn’t have time to tell her. Her fella landed over. Howya fixed. Who’s this cunt? All that. Left them at it. Went to the fridge. How did I end up here? Seen her in Tesco. Spotted her at the frozen fish. Size eight and serious perfume. She drove a Toyota Yaris. I followed her in the Mondeo. Her blonde head going back and over while she talked on the phone. Got to a big house. Garden. Plenty of new cars outside. Looked like a party. Made myself welcome. No one asked questions. I liked that.
Lots of I-phones going around. And shite talk.  Fridge free now, not too bad. Walked over, opened her up. There was Grey Goose Vodka. Wired into that. Hit the belly good. Fired hard in the blood stream. Focused the brain on the task at hand. She was still talking your man. He was a gobshite. You could tell. A young one tried to talk to me with: “What do you do yourself?”
“Bits and pieces.” I said. “And you?”
“I’m in sales.”
“Hows that goin for ya?”
She was about to answer when I walked away. Went to the jacks. It was fancy. Lots of handsoap and mouthwash. Big shtuff books on the floor. Polished off the bottle of Grey Goose. Had it with me. When I opened the door to leave – she was there. Her eyes. She smiled. Went to walk past me‚ then she stalled and asked: “…who are you here for?”
‘Me?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’m Mike.’
‘Hi Mike. I’m Christina.’
‘Christina?
‘Yeah. Who do you know again?’
Then downstairs there was a shout. ‘Christina! Dave’s here!’
This seemed to distract her. She was excited. About Dave. Whoever the fuck Dave was. There was rain outside now. Belting on the windows. A candle burned somewhere. The scent of warm sheets and me and her maybe. She turned to me again and I wanted to kiss her. Those lips.  ‘Have we met before?’
I said: ‘I don’t think so.’
‘I don’t think you were invited.’
‘I wasn’t. I followed you from Tesco.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘I’ve never been stalked before.’
‘Do ya like it?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
‘I could rape you later if you like.’
‘No thanks. But thanks for the offer all the same.’
Pause. I said. ‘I don’t want this conversation to end.’
She blinked. Long eyelashes. ‘I’m afraid it has to. Should I call the guards?’
‘Do you want to?’
She leaned in close. The smell of her breath. Her chest against mine. ‘Not just yet.’
Then downstairs again. ‘Christina! Come on and meet Dave! Where the hell are ya?’
She took off down below. A cyclone in her wake. What now? The Grey Goose kicking in a big way. There was loud cheers. Went back down. The stairs like a road slippy with oil‚ my feet threatening to do wheelspins and put me tumbling. Got to the bottom. Plush carpet and pringles on the table. Bob Dylan on the speakers with A hard rain is going to fall.
‘How do you know Christina?’
I looked round. It was her fella. Stubble. Red hair. Bad teeth. Eating Doritos. Eyeing me up. I studied his throat. Where I might have to slit it later. Said: ‘She say I know her?’
‘Yeah. Yeah she did. But I’ve been goin out with her for years and she never mentioned you once.’
‘Did she not?’
‘No. You her ex?’
‘What the fuck’s it to you who I am?’
‘It’s my house. I like to chose my guests.’
I looked around. There was a fat bitch in the corner with legs like a snooker table and famous Dave was in the corner telling a loud story about Sushi. I said: ‘All your guests seem like fuckin eejits…’
‘Get the fuck out.’
‘You serious?’
‘Yeah. Fuck off.’
I said: ‘Just like that?’
‘How do you want this to go? Really. Think about it.’
‘I could be mental, and you’re talkin to me like that?’
‘I’m shakin already.’
‘Do you know what the problem with cunts like you is?’
‘No.’ He said. ‘Tell me‚ please.’
‘You’re all the fuckin same.’
After the door closed. The night closed around me like a fist. I was at the car when she called. ‘Where the fuck are you goin?’
Those jeans. The hair below her shoulder.
‘Your fella kicked me out.’
‘John?’
‘Whoever.’
‘Meet me in a hour.’
‘Where?’
‘Genesis niteclub.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
The Mondeo was cold. Took a few minutes to heat her up. Turned on the wipers. Life. Drove. Parked. Went to Genesis. Strobe lights and dry ice. Bouncers and over priced cider. When she came. Her hair was wet. We fucked in the toilet. Got kicked out. Went back to my place. Fucked some more. She was insatiable. John didn’t have it. I know cos after she said: “John doesn’t have it. What have I been doin all these years?’
‘Waitin for me?’
‘Were you really going to rape me?
‘Probably. I don’t know.’
‘Where are you from?’
There was a loud lash of wind outside and a glass broke on the road‚ somewhere in the distance of the night. Car brakes screeched. A low throbbing somewhere in my blood. The sheets smelled of oil and honey and her. Some fuckin world.

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