I can hear it. Eighties rock, turned up loud, filling the air. The sky is a rebellious shade of deep purple, peppered with thinning gray clouds.
It took me an age to decide what to wear. In the end I settled on a pair of big hoop earrings, a white, strapless bandeau top and a pair of loose-fitting cargo pants in camo green, my midriff on show. I tried not to dress with anyone in mind, and I’ve never been ultra girly, but now, the thought of AJ being at Scotch & Smoke terrifies me.
Will he be angry with me for coming out this way? I almost cancelled with the others twice today, knowing that there’s every chance Evelyn will find out I’ve been here.
The Uber drops us off about fifty meters from Scotch & Smoke and we finish our journey on foot.
I’ve not experienced anything like this. Coming out to a saloon bar that’s literally in the middle of nowhere, to a town that’s been half-abandoned and is crumbling. Yet the line going inside is orderly, the mood buoyant.
With our wristbands firmly in place, it doesn’t take long for us to get inside. I can barely move for bodies. Conversations are animated. The music is even louder inside. Everyone is having a good time.
‘I don’t even know this song!’ I shout to Nabila over the noise after we enter the bar.
‘This is AC/DC!’ she shouts back giddily. ‘This is my dad’s favorite!You Shook Me All Night Long!’
It doesn’t take long to order drinks, despite the crowd around the bar. There are plenty of staff on duty, and three tattooed heavies in leather-studded vests appear to be acting as security.
‘IsOnly Rapturelike a slogan or something?’ I ask Aubri minutes later, taking note of two people in yellow T-shirts behind the bar.
‘Means you have to be from around here to get served by them,’ she tells me. ‘We’re just tourists in these parts.’
I nod in understanding. The crowd here is an eclectic mix. Biker guys and girls, college varsity students, and everything in between. I look around me and realize that, apart from my accent, I pretty much blend in with everybody else, and it fills me with relief. A shiver goes down my spine. Fear? Or something else. I don’t remember ever being on a night out quite like this one.
Later, we move to the edge of a makeshift dance floor where enthusiastic patrons thrash to the beat of Guns N’ Roses. That’s when I see her, collecting up glasses and going back and forth to the bar.
Nicole Escribano.
In high school, Nicole paid me precious little attention, just like everybody else, but she was one of the few girls from Rapture in our senior class, and therefore friendly with AJ’s crowd. She looks the same, her petite frame possibly a fraction curvier than when I last saw her five years ago. I’m still looking at her when our eyes meet, and I instantly look away, down to the bottle of beer in my hand. A split second later, she’s making a beeline for me.
When she reaches me, there’s a big smile slapped on her face. Her makeup is extensive. She has perfect hair and bright pink nails, and her voice is one hundred per cent Southern belle.
‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ she yells. ‘It’s you!’
‘It’s me,’ I repeat, and wonder if she even remembers my name.
She puts down her pile of empty glasses. ‘Hollie Palmer. I didn’t know you was back in town! I mean, your stepmomma’s a bitch, no offence. How you been? I love your hair!’
Absent-mindedly, I touch the tips of my fingers to the side of my head and my recently dyed hair. ‘Thank you.’
‘You get it done professional?’
I feel my cheeks flush. I can’t afford a professional dye job. ‘Actually, I just buy a box from the drugstore.’
‘You serious? It looks fantastic! I love the pink! And you lost the glasses.’
‘Eye surgery.’
‘Fancy! Really opens up your face. You know, some of the Rapture guys from high school are here tonight. You should come say howdy!’
I came to have fun. To let loose with friends. To stick two fingers up at my dad and Evelyn for making me leave my apartment.
What I really want is to see AJ. In the quieter moments, he’s all I think about.
But would he welcome my appearance after our little road trip? Or is it something he’d rather forget?
I don’t get a choice, because Nicole grabs my hand and starts pulling me toward the back of the bar, where I know the pool tables are situated.
I shout to Nabila and point. ‘High school people,’ I say and she nods in understanding.
