In Jaggers Bar: Lost property
‘Great evening then, thanks a lot for dragging me along.’ Rafe’s cheek is almost rubbing on mine as he puts his mouth up to my ear, and he still has to yell for me to hear him over the shouting and the techno music.
Thursday night’s Cocktail Happy Hour was in full flow when we got here, and the place was heaving. I have no idea about the hour, because it already seems to have lasted forever. As for the cocktails, they’re strong enough to make your head spin with the first slug. Then you man up. Unlike everyone else in the place, I’m just having the one. But you know those times when the more you drink, the more you want?
‘Quick, grab those seats!’ Rafe’s grip is tight on my shoulder as he steers me through the crush of bodies, and shoves me up onto a purple plastic bar stool.
I take it he’s being ironic when he says about a great evening. No-one could actually be enjoying this mayhem.
At some point he’s stripped off his jumper, and now I’m sitting beside him, I can see that under his ragged T-shirt, he’s pretty ripped. I squint as I try to make out the logo on the fabric folds.
‘If found return to the farm,’ Rafe says helpfully, then sighs. ‘Not what I’d usually wear out, I wasn’t expecting anyone to even see it, it’s supposed to be a joke.’ Which is so funny for someone as un-funny as Rafe that it sends me into a fit of giggles.
I know what he means though. I wasn’t expecting anyone to see my skimpy vest either, but it’s so damned hot in here, it was a choice between stripping down and showing off half my bra, or expiring.
‘Top up of margarita?’ Cate squeezes in from behind with a jug as I put down my glass. One slosh later, my glass is full again.
So much for not drinking. The last thing I remember eating is a banana at breakfast time, which is probably why I’m feeling a bit light headed now. ‘Last one.’ I yell, as Cate whirls out of view. As for Rafe getting legless, he hasn’t actually started drinking yet.
‘That has to be the sixth time you’ve said that.’ Rafe’s lips twist into a smile. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll carry you home.’
‘No.’ That really doesn’t sound right. Seven cocktails? Maybe that’s why the neon signs around the walls are beginning to blur. I lean over a little unsteadily to Rafe, and end up grabbing his arm to get my balance. ‘You’re supposed to be carrying Immie home, not me.’ As I release my grip on his biceps, it’s the most natural thing in the world to share this with him. I grab his knee, as I push myself back into position on my stool, and stage whisper. ‘You know, you two are supposed to be an item,’ I confide.
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