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“Hell no. I think she’s brilliant.” The man with ‘President’ on his cut interrupts. “We need her at your patching-in ceremony. And I’m getting you a new cut tomorrow. I think we just found your new biker name, Aladdin.”
“Fuck.” My brother lets out a long groan. “Next, you’ll be telling them you’re Jasmine.”
The laughter erupts again.
“Oh my god, this is priceless. You got any other siblings, a genie, or a Jafar hidden away?” One of the men chuckles.
“Fuck no.” My brother raises his middle finger at the man.
“Al.” I tell him off, “Don’t be rude. It’s funny if you think about it.”
“At least Jasmine’s a normal name. Aladdin isn’t,” my brother sulks. The men laugh again, and I roll my eyes.
“He said the same thing at school when they found out. Mind you, those boys were nasty to you about it. These ones seem to just tease. And you don’t have those thick-rimmed glasses anymore, so they can’t break them.”
The blonde woman walks past again, and I reach out for another beer and hand her my now empty bottle. Who knew after a few sips of beer it actually goes down rather well? All the men look at me in silence.
“What?” I pout, taking a long swig of the beer. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten.” I look at the man with the big brown eyes. He’s sitting there with the hint of a smile on his face. “I answered your question, and you never answered mine. Why are you called Heat?” He opens his mouth to answer me, but he doesn’t get a chance, for AC/DC’s ‘You shook me all night long’ comes over the music system, and I head for the dance floor, calling behind me,
“This is the best song ever.”
“Jasmine.” My brother catches up with me. “Are you ok?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Any feelings of anxiety have gone. I’m completely buzzing from the beer, wine, and antidepressant mixture I’m on. It’s the best I’ve felt in ages, and I’m going to roll with it.
“Ok, look, I’m just going to go and sort a few things for the prez. You need anything you ask him or Heat. They’ll look after you while I’m not here. You understand?”
“Heat, Prez. Yep.” I start dancing on the spot, my body itching to get lost in the rhythm. It’s been forever since I danced.
“Only them.”
“Only them,” I repeat and shake the beer bottle in my hand. It’s empty. I look at my brother’s, which is still half full, and before he realizes what’s happening, I exchange them and push my way toward the middle of the dance floor. It’s sticky under my feet, and I don’t even want to ask why. If I think about it, I know it’ll bring on a full-blown panic attack. While I’m enjoying myself for the first time in years, I’m going with it.
I allow the music to take over my body and start grinding to the beat. My head’s very foggy, now, with the alcohol. I have no doubt I’ll wake-up tomorrow with a headache to end all headaches.
I feel someone step up close behind me. The ever-present panic, which resides just below the surface, begins to rise. My breath hitches, and I feel the air come out of my lungs, raggedly. I turn ready to fight or run. Most probably I shall do the latter, but I'm met with the soulful brown eyes of Heat.
“I like to cook,” he says, his deep voice reverberating through my body.
“Pardon?” I look at him blankly.
“My name. I like to cook, and it involves heat,” he explains.
“If you can’t stand the heat, get out of my kitchen,” I reply and bite my lip. Something in the way he’s eyeing me up and down tells me if I were in Heat’s kitchen, I couldn’t stand it.
“Exactly.” A smile lights up his face, and I can’t help but return it. The panic of a few moments ago dissipates. “I need to go check on the prospects. If you need anything, you ask the prez. Got me?”
I roll my eyes. He’s just like my brother.
“Prez. Got it.”
Heat swaggers off, and I can’t help but look at his backside. He’s wearing tight jeans, and they make my mouth water because his ass looks splendid in them. Who the hell is this crazy woman I’ve become, and where is the neurotic one?
I sigh and turn back to my dancing. The alcohol has thoroughly soaked into my system now, and I’m starting to miss parts of the songs as they play. Another pair of hands wrap themselves around me, and I allow the hard body to sway against mine. I’m deeply lost in the music, and together with the buzz of the wine and beer, I forget about my anxiety and allow it to happen. Eventually, the music changes to a slow song and the man’s hands are all over my body. I’m beyond caring; I’m virtually in a walking coma. He grabs my hand and leads me from the dance floor. I follow him on wobbly legs.
The woman constricted by anxiety is gone.
“Have faith in what will be.”
