Blackness, cut through with icy blue lasers and LEDs criss-crossing the ceiling high above, hit Jamie first. Music, something loud and piercing from back in the day, pulsed through him. The Prodigy, ‘Firestarter’. The packed dance floor bounced with wild silhouettes of bouncing braids, arms and spilling drinks raised above heads. Jamie registered in seconds that maybe this was a wee bit wilder than the Edinburgh clubs he used to go to (when he was probably way too young for clubs and booze and all the rest of it).
He had to squint in the flashing lights breaking through the dark to keep eyeball on Ally as she made for the bar in strobing, juddering movements like a figure in a silent movie.
She’d hopped up onto a bar stool at the blue glass brick bar that was lit from inside to resemble blocks of sparkling ice.
‘They took the ski slope theme and ran with it, then?’ Jamie shouted when he reached her.
‘I’m getting a cocktail,’ she shouted back, not hearing him.
‘Order for me as well,’ he bellowed, pulling his Visa card from his shirt pocket. ‘I’m not up on cocktails.’ Was Ally eyeing his shirt? Approvingly, he hoped.
He’d made an effort not to dress like an off-duty cop. The phenomenon was a bit of a running joke at the Edinburgh police station where all the officers clocked off and immediately jumped into black shirts and black leather jackets as though irony wasn’t a thing.
He’d gone for his softest slubby white henley, a pair of what Karolyn had advised him were ‘nice’ dark trousers, and his favourite French-blue chore jacket that he’d had for years but looked after really well. He’d polished his brown leather boots too, suspecting the Ptarmigan had a ‘no trainers’ policy. A quick glance at the heaving bodies throwing frenetic Keith Flint shapes on the dance floor told him he’d been wrong about that. He was sure he even spotted a pair of Crocs out there.
He settled himself on the stool while Ally got the attention of the bar guy. She ordered something by pointing at the menu then peace-signing that she’d like two, please.
When she was done, she fixed her attention on Jamie.
‘Hope you like Irn Bru margaritas,’ she shouted.
‘I’ve no idea if I do.’
‘They’re deadly,’ she yelled back.
‘Do they make you do that?’ he said, pointing to the dance floor, but she mustn’t have understood as she leaned closer and asked if he danced.
‘Course I do.’
She seemed to think for a moment, in two minds about whether she was going to dive in amongst the bodies or not. She chose to prop her elbows on the bar, accept her drink from the bartender and tell Jamie, a little sadly, ‘I used to love dancing.’
Jamie paid for the drinks after a protest from Ally and some fencing with their Visa cards to see whose would make it to the card device first.
‘I’ll get the next round,’ she yelled over the noise, slumping a little more, sipping at the thin cocktail straw.
Jamie looked at the salted rim of his luminous orange fizzy drink with its frosted lime floating on the frothy surface and accepted his fate.
It was strong and sweet. He took a second long draught, clearing half the glass.
‘Woah! Anybody would think it was you who’d had been run off their feet repairing all day.’ She’d shifted her stool so it was nearer to his and she could make herself heard over the new song the DJ was playing from the booth at the other side of the floor. Dry ice billowed around their feet.
‘I’m still not over Friday when some crazy lady was making me run all across the town calling emergency meetings. I’m kind of worn out.’
‘She sounds intense.’ Ally’s painted red lips curved into a smile as she took the thin straw between them once more. Jamie decided he’d better not stare.
‘Ach, she was all right,’ he said, making to nudge her arm in a chummy way, but not actually making contact. Good! Professional. Respectful. If anyone from the station happened to wander in here tonight they couldn’t accuse him of anything like misconduct. This was a friendly drink, nothing more. He wasn’t sure he’d made that clear when Ally opened the front door to him earlier that evening.
‘Do you want to do something?’ he’d stammered at her doorstep. ‘With me. A drink or something. If you want to. Because I do.’ He’d definitely winced, because he distinctly remembered Ally stifling a chuckle before saying ‘Sure’ and throwing in a casual little shrug that said she could take him or leave him. Nevertheless they’d swapped numbers and left one another with a feeling of glowing triumph at the sudden turn of events.
If only Ally hadn’t turned up to meet him at the nightclub steps wearing that light cotton pinafore dress thing, with the buttons all the way down the front and the clingy, milky-coffee coloured sleeveless top underneath. Her legs were bare and she had grungy boots laced up around her ankles. Phenomenal, his brain had said at the sight.
He had to stop himself now from lifting a finger to touch the swinging, shimmering strand of thinnest silver that hung from her earlobe. Funny how he hadn’t noticed her wearing earrings before. The silver shimmer ran down her jaw and touched her neck when she moved. He wasn’t going to look at that either. He fixed his eyes on hers.
‘Hold on, did you just say you’d had a rough day?’ he said, genuinely wanting to know what it was that kept cutting her happiness short just when it bloomed in her cheeks. There seemed to be something Ally couldn’t help remembering and it was bringing her down. ‘Was it that guy you mentioned, the day we met?’ he tried.
Her body visibly tightened, just for a moment. ‘What?’ she very obviously bluffed. ‘Are you talking about Gray?’
‘Want to tell me about him?’
